Tilly paced behind Nolan, carefully avoiding the growing pile of sawdust from where he was cutting through the wood.
Mindful of the girls, she chose her words carefully. “Eleanor has only just lost her husband this past year. What will we do if she passes through town before the other, you know, um, package we’re supposed to be looking for?”
“What package?” Victoria asked.
“Mr. West is anticipating the arrival of a gold package.”
Tilly hadn’t considered that Eleanor might be boarding a stagecoach as they spoke, anticipating a reunion with her daughters. Just what they needed—Eleanor stumbling into town and discovering her girls were being held hostage by a group of outlaws.
“We’re going to take this one day at a time,” Nolan said. “One stagecoach at a time, one trapped little girl at a time. Right now, our job is freeing Caroline. Then we’ll worry about dinner, then we’ll worry about this evening.”
“But what about—”
“One foot in front of the other, one step at a time. That’s the only way we’re going to survive. We have hours to worry about tomorrow.”
“You’re right.” Her eyes burned. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. This time next year, you’ll be living in New York City. You’ll be saving widows and orphans by the dozens, and this will be an exciting story you tell over dessert and coffee.”
“I hope so.”
“I know so.”
“Let’s try the pry bar again,” Tilly said. Anything to get her mind off the thought of Eleanor. “I’ll add my weight and we can push together.”
Despite the decay, the floorboards were proving remarkably difficult to saw through. The awkward angle wasn’t helping Nolan’s efforts.
Nolan took one side, and she positioned herself on the other. Together they bore down on the board. The bars slipped an inch before jamming again.
Tilly wiggled her fingers through the narrow opening. “That didn’t help much.”
“The building has settled more than I thought. The corner is really jammed. This is going to take more of an effort.”
Studying the problem, she frowned. “Let’s approach Snyder. He’s the most amiable. I’m guessing he was the muscle behind the breakout anyway.”
“It’s his muscle I’ll be needing.”
Nolan was reluctant to ask for the outlaw’s assistance, but he conceded they needed help. “Let’s go.”
They discovered the outlaw brushing down one of the stolen horses. After explaining the situation, Snyder rubbed his chin.
“I’ll see if I can help you, but they make those cells hard to bust out of for a reason.”
“How did you break out of jail?” Tilly asked.
“We used the birdcage.”
“The birdcage?”
“Charlie had this birdcage in his cell. He used to tell folks there was a bird inside. The guards let him keep it, because they figured he was loco. Then one day, he tells this guard that he’s got to give the cage to his brother. When the guard opened the door, Charlie clobbered him on the head.”
“Oh, my.” Tilly pressed her fingers against her lips. “Clearly, that’s not going to work in our situation.”
“Charlie unlocked all the other fellows.” Snyder resumed the vigorous rubbing of his chin. “He figured that having all those fugitives on the run would make it harder to catch us. He was right.”
“Clever,” Tilly said weakly.
Fifteen minutes later, with both Snyder and Nolan straining with effort, Caroline was freed from her temporary prison. Snyder collapsed on a bench and grinned, clearly relishing his role as the hero of the situation.
After a moment he appeared to gather himself. He stood and offered a gruff, “Don’t bother me again,” before storming out.
Nolan shrugged. “At least he helped.”
Victoria had spread out a blanket over the dirty floor, and she and Elizabeth sat across from each other.
When Victoria caught sight of the open cell door, her face fell. “Aw, shucks. I was just fixing to have a pretend tea party.”
“We can have a celebratory pretend tea party.” Tilly reclined on the edge of the blanket. “I’ll have a pretend scone with my pretend tea.”
A crack of thunder rattled the building, shaking dust from the eves. The girls shrieked and huddled together.
“Back to the relay station,” Nolan ordered gently. “This ceiling offers about as much protection as a sieve. The tea party will have to move.”
Moving quickly, they gathered their supplies. The girls dashed ahead of them, giggling and splashing through the gathering puddles. Nolan held the blanket over Tilly’s head as they hurried back to the relay station.
The meager cover offered little protection, and she was soon soaked through to her skin. They splashed through puddles and moisture settled in her boots. The girls quickly outpaced them.
Sheets of rain swept over their heads, and he prodded her to the side of the street, where they ducked beneath the sheltering eves of an abandoned building. The wind whipped the trees, tearing at the branches. Nolan lowered the blanket and shook off the moisture.
“We’ll wait here until the rain lets up,” he said.
A leaf had caught in his hair. Tilly raised up on tiptoes and plucked it free. The serrated edges of the leaf caught in his hair, and she placed a steadying hand on his shoulder.
Their faces were inches apart, and his gaze grew intense. She wasn’t quite certain who closed the distance between them. Their lips touched and heat flared between them. His hand slipped over her shoulder, caressing the nape of her neck. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed closer.
Emboldened by his response, she angled her head, increasing the contact between them. She felt him tremble against her and her stomach fluttered. A gust of wind sent a smattering of rain over them, but she barely registered the discomfort. His heady scent surrounded her, a mixture of leather and coffee.
Thunder crashed and they both started, then separated. His eyes were wide and dilated and his breathing was almost as harsh as her own.
She touched her lips in wonder.
He raked his hand through his hair. “We should go.”
Her emotions reeling, she blindly took his hand. He sheltered her with the blanket once more and they dashed the distance.
She reached for the door but he caught her arm. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. We shouldn’t have.”
“But—”
“I’ve got chores. I won’t see you tonight.”
He was gone before she could say more, her words lost in the clatter of rain beating against the building.
She touched her cheek with trembling fingers. He’d felt it, too. He must have. Something had changed between them, and there was no going back.
* * *
Nolan stayed away from the relay station until the outlaws finished dinner and stumbled down the stairs. He watched as they made their way across the rain-soaked ground. There was no avoiding the inevitable. He’d kissed Tilly. Or she’d kissed him. He wasn’t really certain. She certainly hadn’t resisted. Neither had he.
He couldn’t help the flare of masculine pride. What man wouldn’t want the attentions of such a vibrant woman? The next instant, reality struck. He couldn’t bring anyone into his world. He couldn’t subject another person to his rigid routines and his obsession with cleanliness and order.
Despite his good intentions, the feel of the soft hair on the nape of her neck lingered on his fingertips. He rubbed them together, as though imprinting the memory into his very skin.
In the time he’d lived with his father immediately following the end of the war, he’d taken to obsessively counting the number of plates in the cupboard. He didn’t know why. He only knew he had to count them, and then count them again. He’d seen the mingled look of disgust and disappointment in his father’s eyes.
Don’t let anyone else see you doing that, his father had said. They’ll think you’re mad.
Nolan took a deep breath and entered the station. He’d act as though nothing had happened. He suspected Tilly would do the same. They’d met under extreme circumstances, and her emotions were heightened. If Caroline hadn’t taken ill that first day, he doubted Tilly would have remembered his face, much less his name.
The realization left him with an odd pang of regret.
He opened the door to cries of distress.
Victoria and Elizabeth were engaged in an angry tug-of-war over a rag doll.
“Mine!” Elizabeth sobbed.
The older girl put her weight behind the next yank, ripping the doll from the toddler’s fingers. “No, mine!” she shouted.
Tilly came from behind the kitchen table. Tendrils of damp hair clung to her cheeks, and she swiped at the sweat beading her forehead.
“Stop it, both of you. Those men ate all the food and I’ve got to prepare a second dinner. I don’t have time for your fighting. Can’t you simply get along?”
She caught sight of him and a pleased grin lit her face.
“Nolan. How are you?” Sounding breathless, her hand fluttered before landing on her hip. “I meant to ask if you were hungry. Are you hungry?”
Elizabeth broke into loud, hiccupping sobs, saving him from having to reply.
“Mine!” the toddler repeated.
Victoria set her lower lip in a stubborn pout. “You always take my things. You’re a baby.”
“Not a baby!” The toddler took a swing at her sister. “You baby.”
Nolan kneeled between them. “That’s enough, you two.”
Victoria hugged the rag doll to her chest. “I wish Elizabeth was a boy. Because a brother wouldn’t take my dolls.”
He smothered his chuckle with one hand. “Brothers are annoying in other ways.”
Elizabeth threw her arms around him and clasped her fingers behind his neck, sobbing into his shoulder.
Tilly flashed a grateful smile. “Thank you. They’ve been arguing since we returned from the, uh, from the jail.”
Her lips parted and her nostrils flared. Neither of them moved for a moment, though a delightful blush stained her cheeks.
She was remembering.
Their gazes caught and held and her eyelashes fluttered. His gaze dropped to her lips before he forced his gaze away. So much for pretending as though nothing had happened. There was an intimacy between them now, a familiarity that would be impossible to ignore. Especially considering the close quarters and their precarious situation.
Caroline touched his shoulder. “I can make Elizabeth a doll,” she said quietly. “That way she has her own, and won’t take Victoria’s.”
“That’s a very generous offer.” He held Elizabeth away from him. “Is that all right with you?”
The toddler blinked, the tears on her lashes glistening in the light from the kerosene lanterns. “My doll.”
Caroline twirled a length of her hair around one finger. “I have some cloth and a sewing kit, but I don’t have any yarn for the hair. You’ll have to wait for that.”
“Isbeth doll.”
Elizabeth faced Victoria and stuck out her tongue.
Nolan frowned. “Be nice, or Caroline won’t make you a doll.”
The defiant tongue immediately retracted. “I good.”
Nolan gathered the outlaw’s discarded dishes. His brief relief at a small victory quickly faded, and his frustration simmered as he considered his supplies. He was well stocked for one man, but he hadn’t prepared for a relay station overrun with people. If the coach containing the gold didn’t come through town by the following week, they’d have to send for more supplies, which was bound to attract notice.
Though he usually assisted with cleaning the kitchen after supper, the girls and Tilly made another batch of blackberry muffins. The sisters laughed and giggled, their earlier animosity forgotten.
Despite their obvious joy, his head throbbed. The outlaws had littered the floor with food. Snyder had left a larger halo of crumbs than Elizabeth. Because of the constant rain, dirty footprints marked nearly every inch of the floor. He hadn’t oiled the harnesses that day, and Dakota Red had prevented him from moving the horses to the upper pasture. The outlaw feared he had an ulterior motive for the transfer.
Near as he could tell, the girls were using every pan in the kitchen for their muffins. A bowl hit the floor, raising a plume of flour dust. The pounding in his temples grew more intense. For the past year, he’d spent nearly all of his time alone. He’d probably spoken more words in the past two days than he had in the past two years.
The sudden jolt from solitude to being surrounded by constant commotion was jarring. Not to mention his unexpected attraction to Tilly had him wrapped up in knots.
She stifled a yawn behind fingertips purpled from berry juice. “It’s been an eventful day,” she said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Nolan glanced into the kitchen and back at her. “Aren’t you going to clean up?”
“Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?” His left eye twitched. “The kitchen is in a shambles.”
“It will still be in a shambles in the morning.”
“Breakfast will be late.”
“I’m not overly concerned with ensuring a bunch of murderous outlaws are fed on time.”
Bowls and spoons were stacked haphazardly in the dry sink, flour footprints tracked across the floor. She’d tossed the leftover muffins together and draped a towel over the heap.
Nolan rubbed the back of his neck. He was exhausted. He hadn’t slept a full night in days. Fatigue had wormed into his brain and strangled his emotions.
“Good night,” he said, his tone clipped.
Tilly tilted her head at the abrupt response. “I promise, we’ll clean up our mess in the morning. I’m exhausted.”
She appeared undecided, then yawned once more and turned away. Her steps dragged and her shoulders drooped. He shouldn’t be angry. The fault was his. Leaving a mess for a few hours was hardly cause for panic.
Fearful of waking the girls, who were liable to create another catastrophe, Nolan silently scrubbed the kitchen. He arranged the muffins in a pan, and neatly folded a towel over the surface. He scrubbed the dirty dishes, wiped down the counter, replaced all the clean dishes in their designated locations and alphabetized the cooking supplies once more.
When he’d finished the kitchen, he set to work on the rest of the living spaces. Even with a limited amount of luggage, the three girls created an alarming level of mayhem. When he’d finished sweeping and dusting, he methodically wound each of the timepieces located in the relay station.
When the clocks chimed three in unison, he stepped back and surveyed his work in the dim light of the kerosene lantern. Every surface gleamed.
He had restored order.
For however long his work might last.
Both physically and mentally exhausted, he collapsed on the cot in the third bedroom of the relay station. Threading his hands behind his head, he crossed his ankles. He’d done it. He had restored order.
He could sleep in peace.