Caught in the Middle (32 page)

 26 

Never before had Nick so appreciated a bath and a shave. He sloshed his straight razor around in the soapy water and then patted his face dry. Traipsing through Indian Territory was tough, but his return to civilization didn’t bring the relief he’d expected.

Garber looked smaller, more crowded than he’d remembered. Before, he’d never noticed the constant noise around him—the creak of wheels, the rattle of chains, the boisterous voices urging their teams through town. Even inside, muffled voices oozed through the thin walls, hard-heeled shoes thudded down the hall, and the piano in the parlor was rarely silent.

The buildings trapped the day’s dust—nowhere for it to escape. Same for the other odors that resulted from a mass of people and animals living in close proximity. Nothing like that on the mountain with Anne.

Except for Sammy’s diaper.

Nick dipped his comb in the pitcher of clean water and ran it through his hair. How was Anne doing this morning? He could hardly believe he was engaged, but it settled his heart.
Of all the unknowns, his relationship with Anne provided a spot of peace. It was right.

And he hoped the assurance of his love gave her some peace, too—particularly where the loss of Sammy was concerned. She’d think of the child every day of her life. She’d never forget him, but Nick hoped the memories wouldn’t block her joy for the other gifts God had in store for her . . . for them.

Nicholas slid his arms into his coat on his way downstairs. He’d thought he’d risen early, but Joel was already waiting for him in the lobby, a doughnut in hand.

“You aren’t going to believe this,” Joel said.

“Ian Stanford’s been arrested?”

Joel stopped chewing. “I wish . . . but he’s coming in for questioning today. That’s a first step.”

“Seriously? That’s more than I’d hoped for.” Nick lifted the glass dome and took a sugar-dusted doughnut for himself. “Did Sheriff Green find something?”

“Appears so. Evidently he and Harold got to the late Commissioner Garrard’s records before they were destroyed. They’re trying to gather up Stanford’s records, too. He’s not cooperating, but all signs point to him bribing officials. Did you know Philip Walton’s wife is now on the Stanfords’ payroll as a maid—probably the best paid help in the nation?”

“Mrs. Walton’s a maid? Didn’t you suspect that Ian’s interest in her was more than political?”

“That’s the rumor. And I’m surprised Ophelia lets a woman that beautiful anywhere near her home—especially with Stanford’s roving eye.”

Nick shook his head. “You know, for all of Ophelia’s faults, I do pity her. No matter how much money she has, she’d probably rather have her husband’s devotion.”

“I hope she doesn’t try to earn it now. There’ll be consequences if she’s caught impeding the investigation,” Joel said.

“Jail?”

Joel shrugged. “Depends on how much she was involved and how much she cooperates.”

“I wonder if it’s too late to talk some sense into her—convince her to come clean.” Nick studied the shiny toes of his shoes. “Speaking of women in trouble with the law, thanks again for your patience with Anne. She put you in a tough spot, and you were gracious to her. But just so you don’t think she’s getting away with her bad behavior, I’m making her marry me. Giving her a life sentence.”

“That’s rather harsh, isn’t it? And without a thought for my druthers.” Joel’s brow lowered in mock agitation. “Now Ma’s going to be all over me about being the last bachelor in town who hasn’t found a woman and settled down. Nice going, pal.”

Nick guffawed. “If it’s helpful, I’ll keep Mrs. Puckett informed of any single young ladies who are on the market.”

“I’d really appreciate it.” Joel’s beard stretched over smiling cheeks. “And while I hope y’all are happy, if you’re not, please let Ma know. It’d help my case considerably.”

“I’ll report every fight and disagreement—and there’s sure to be several.”

“Naturally. You need to be put in your place every now and then, and I’m grateful to Mrs. Tillerton for taking that duty on herself.”

The empty cot pressed up against the foot of her bed. Anne smoothed the seersucker coverlet, letting her hand drift over it as she had so many times before when it covered the small,
warm body that had lain near her. She wished Nick would come back, wished she had something to do besides fight the dangerous impulses that called her to throw away everything and go after the boy. Like an unruly dog she swatted down the temptation, only for it to bound up again and again.

Sammy is crying at this very moment, wondering why you
left him. Nick would understand. He loves you. He’d
come find you wherever you end up, but you can’
t leave your child with strangers.

She took a deep breath and pushed away the rebellious thoughts. She couldn’t break Nick’s trust. That night at the cave she’d been filled with peace, but now all she had left were empty arms and a terror that she’d made a horrible mistake. How had she convinced herself that leaving Sammy with the Hollands was best?

She startled at the knock on her door.

“May I come in?” Mrs. Puckett asked.

Anne stood and clutched her hands behind her back. “Sure.”

Mrs. Puckett strode directly to the cot and dropped onto it. She gathered the blanket to her face and inhaled. “It still smells like his talcum powder.”

Could she confide in Mrs. Puckett? Anne sighed. If she couldn’t, then she hadn’t learned a blessed thing. “What if I made a mistake?” Anne backed against the wall, then slowly slid down it until she rested on her haunches. “What if they aren’t treating him well and he’s miserable?”

Mrs. Puckett clutched the blanket to her chest. “You liked them when you were there, didn’t you? What were you thinking when you left Atoka?”

“That I was doing the right thing. My heart was being
pulled out of my body and trampled, but I thought they’d be best for him.” Anne brushed her knee, even though her buckskin britches were clean. “It just seems like I should do something to stop the hurting. Why just sit here and take it?”

“I wish I could stop the hurting for you, dear girl, but missing Sammy is going to sting, no way around it. The only remedy for it is to offer your suffering up to God. The hurt is part and parcel of the sacrifice you’ve made.”

“I know they don’t want me up there hovering over him, but I wish I knew if he was doing well. I still feel that he’s my responsibility.”

“Go on and write to them.” Mrs. Puckett lowered the blanket. “Ask them how he’s doing. If I judge them correctly, they’ll want to ease your fears.”

Anne brightened. “I could, couldn’t I? I’d like to hear how he’s eating, if he’s mastered handling a cup on his own yet . . .” She stood. “You don’t think they’d mind, do you?”

Mrs. Puckett rose and hugged Anne to her side. “I have stationery downstairs. They’d be delighted to hear from you.”

Was he doing the right thing? Nick prayed he had noble motives, prayed he was trying to help Ophelia, not gloat over her fall. A word of caution. That’s all he had to say. A reminder that she could easily be caught up in this crime and be found a coconspirator.

Clouds obscured the noonday sun. Leaves chased along the street gutters, racing to tangle in the shrubs. A man paused from harnessing his team inside his carriage house to watch Nick stroll by. What had Ian said about him? What had transpired while he was gone?

People would believe what they wanted to believe. Once Ian and Judge Calloway were arrested, Nick’s name should be cleared, but that wasn’t his primary concern. His first duty was to see that the citizens of Blackstone County had an honest government committed to meeting their needs and that ruthless men were held accountable.

Nick stepped up the brick walkway to the Stanfords’ mansion. How proud he’d been to receive his first invitation to their home. How important he’d felt doing business in Ian’s oak-lined study. He never thought he’d come to the house under these circumstances.

The electric buzzer sounded when he pushed the button, an angry clamor that reflected the welcome he expected to receive. The door swung open. Theo, the butler, appeared. His eyes narrowed as he sneered.

“You have no business here.”

“I have no business anywhere thanks to your boss, but I’d like a word with her just the same.”

Theo’s chest puffed out even rounder than it did the night Anne attacked him. “That’s impossible. Of all the gall—”

“Who is it, Theo?” Ophelia descended the staircase, her lime dress flouncing as if she floated on sea foam. She squinted at the open door and seeing Nicholas, her face went white.

“How dare you!” But instead of retreating she barged toward him, pushing through Theo to present her hurt, reproachful expression at close quarters. “Is that how you show your gratitude for our help over the years? By sharing all your nasty suspicions with the sheriff? Without us you’d have nothing. You’d be nothing. And instead of helping, you try to ruin us.” A vein protruded from her temple, angry blue even beneath her rice powder.

“I’ve haven’t tried to ruin you.” How different she looked now, as if years had passed since he’d last seen her. “This isn’t about revenge. I’m here to talk some reason into you. You might find leniency if you’ll cooperate. And we both know you’re fully capable of directing this railroad. If you can stay out of trouble, you’ll keep it running.”

Ophelia righted herself. She tugged her sleeves down to her wrists. “Are you saying that you had nothing to do with these charges?” Her green eyes narrowed. Her sharp brows made dark gashes across her forehead.

“I’ll answer the questions they ask me.” Nick leaned against the fancy end table. He tapped his hat against his leg. “And I’m asking you to do the same.”

A cabinet door slammed in Ian’s office. Ophelia turned her head toward it, a wrinkle of annoyance puckering her brow before she could hide it from him.

Nick moved toward the office. “Is Ian here? I thought he was in town.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Ophelia’s voice echoed in the spacious foyer. “We should cooperate more fully with the investigation. We have nothing to fear . . . nothing to hide. And I should know. Ian doesn’t spend a dime of NTT’s money without my knowledge.”