For the first time in days, the sun peered through the clouds. In order to distract the girls, Tilly set up a tea party in the abandoned town square. They rummaged a table from the hotel, and brought supplies from the relay station.
Once they’d set the table with a cheery cloth and chipped cups and saucers, they searched the surrounding area for wildflowers. They gathered daisies, black-eyed Susans, camphor and purple chicory.
Caroline put together an arrangement in an empty milk bottle. Tilly set the second half of the lopsided cake in the center of the table near the flowers.
The four of them took their seats around the cheery setting.
Victoria grinned. “Mama never does things like this.”
“Your mother is a very practical person,” Tilly said, shaking out her napkin. “I’m not certain tea parties in the outdoors are very practical.”
Elizabeth forked a piece of cake and scattered crumbs down the front of her pinafore. Caroline grimaced and Tilly shot her a quelling glance.
“We’re here to have a little fun. No criticizing each other.”
“Yes, Aunt Tilly,” Caroline grumbled.
Elizabeth took another messy bite and Caroline grimaced, but remained silent.
Tilly raised the chipped teacup they’d scrounged from the abandoned restaurant. “To your mother.”
The girls raised their glasses in unison.
After taking a sip, Victoria reached for her slice of cake. “Mama cries a lot.”
“I think she misses Papa,” Caroline said. “I miss Papa, too.”
Tilly slumped in her seat. She hadn’t been very charitable in her thoughts about Walter recently, but he was the girls’ father, and they loved him. Eleanor had loved him, as well.
Walter might have made some mistakes in his life, but he’d left behind a beautiful family. Perhaps Eleanor hadn’t been hiding her situation from Tilly out of spite, perhaps she’d been trying to protect her children from the truth. The girls deserved to remember him fondly.
“What do you miss most about your father?” Tilly asked.
“He let us do things that Mama didn’t approve of,” Victoria said. “He took us places Mama wouldn’t take us.”
Caroline giggled. “Do you remember when he took us to the dancing hall? There were velvet drapes on the windows and a crystal chandelier. There was a man practicing his piano, and Papa made him stop singing the words.”
Tilly raised an eyebrow. The song must not have been suitable for young ears. “That sounds like fun.”
“Mama met him on the front porch with her finger waving,” Victoria said. “I don’t think she liked that he took us there.”
“No harm done.” Tilly refilled her tea from the coffee pot they’d repurposed as a teakettle. “I’m sure the velvet curtains were very pretty.”
Elizabeth held up her empty plate with both hands. “More.”
“All right, one more piece,” Tilly said. “But that’s all.”
Elizabeth eagerly accepted the cake and shoveled a piece into her mouth.
Caroline shooed a fly from their flower arrangement. “I miss Mama. When will we see her again?”
“Soon,” Tilly replied. “Very soon.”
Lying to the girls sent her head throbbing. Nothing was certain for any of them.
Caroline choked back a sob. “I want to go home.”
Her heart breaking, Tilly stood and wrapped her arms around her shoulders. “Soon, I promise. Very soon.”
Victoria crossed her arms. “You’re ruining the tea party, crybaby.”
Tilly straightened. “Be nice to your sister.”
“How come I have to be nice to her?”
“Because you’re stuck with her for the rest of your life, that’s why.”
The two were stunned into silence before erupting into peals of laughter. Uncertain of the joke, but wanting to be a part of the fun, Elizabeth giggled.
Tilly joined them. “You will meet many people in your life, but your sisters will always know you best, because they’ve known you the longest.”
Following the brief spat, the rest of the tea party passed in smiles. For a moment Tilly forgot about everything that was happening. She forgot about the outlaws and New York City and the future.
She forgot about everything except Nolan. He was never far from her thoughts.
She stared at the half-eaten cake on her plate. Eleanor did know her best. She had quit on most things in her life. Tilly snorted softly. She was already quitting on the widows and orphans, and she hadn’t even packed her trunks.
She toyed with her fork and recalled the kisses she’d shared with Nolan. Wouldn’t Eleanor be surprised at how she changed?
Of all the things she’d quit on, she couldn’t imagine ever quitting on him.
* * *
The mood among the captives deteriorated rapidly. Though the outlaws kept mostly to themselves, their presence was a constant reminder of the ticking clock on the hostages’ fate. Each hour that passed took them further away from safety, and brought them closer to the ultimate danger. They endured days with constant rain and only the occasional break of sunlight through the relentless cloud cover, exacerbating the unrest.
The previous evening, the outlaws had stayed up well into the night, and their antics had kept everyone awake. They’d even fired off gunshots at one point. The girls had proved remarkably stoic in the face of the disruption. According to the stories Nolan had heard from the girls, they’d passed far rowdier evenings in Virginia City. The adults were not as understanding of the disruptions.
Bleary-eyed and annoyed, Nolan stumbled into the kitchen and discovered Tilly awake and making coffee. At least he hadn’t suffered a violent nightmare the previous evening, and for that he was grateful.
Instead he’d dreamed of crowds of people. Hundreds of nameless, faceless people brushing against him. He’d spotted Tilly in the distance. She’d smiled and waved and he’d walked toward her. At every turn, someone had blocked his path, and she’d been swallowed by the crowd.
In desperation, he’d shoved his way through the mob, pushing and elbowing the press of humanity. He’d caught a glimpse of her and followed her through an open door, only to discover he was locked in a tiny room with only a single candle in the corner. The flame flickered and disappeared, plunging him into darkness.
He’d woken in a cold sweat, but at least he hadn’t thrashed or taken a swing at the shadows.
He stood on the threshold, unwilling to disturb her. She’d donned the green calico dress she’d worn the day of her arrival. Humming softly, she tucked a lock of her chestnut hair behind one ear. A smile softened her expression, and she gazed into the distance with a contemplative look on her face.
He held his breath, keeping quiet, leaving her to her pleasant thoughts. There’d been few enough enjoyable interludes for any of them lately. She was looking to the future, no doubt.
Growing up, he’d always taken the few minutes before sunrise to plan the day ahead. He’d wake with the morning light, his hands threaded behind his head, his gaze fixed on the familiar crack in the ceiling. Looking back, he’d always been thinking and planning, experimenting with new farming methods and new seeds. He missed the familiar surge of anticipation. He even missed the arguments with his father.
His father had been content with the old ways of doing things, while Nolan had been focused on the future. In a twist of irony, he’d gradually become his father—always looking backward. He desperately wanted to turn back the clock and become the man he’d been before.
Following his release from the prison camp, he’d thought he could recapture the person he’d once been. He’d thought he could brush aside the ill effects from his internment as easily as brushing travel dust from a coat. Instead, the changes had settled into the very marrow of his bones. He’d grown around them. Like the old cottonwood tree on his farm that had threaded its roots around a misshapen boulder until the rock had all but disappeared from sight. He’d absorbed the changes the war had brought, and he couldn’t cut himself free without hacking off a part of himself, as well.
He’d spent the past several years trying to free himself, yet he feared the transformation was too ingrained. Like the old cottonwood tree that was forever entwined with the boulder. There was no excising his past.
Tilly stifled a yawn behind her hand. “The girls are already stirring. I’ll keep watch while you work on the boat.”
Drawn to her, he moved closer. Over the past few days, he’d seen the beauty within her, and his first impression of her had altered. How could he have ever thought her looks were somewhere between plain and pretty? She was lovely. How had he missed her dazzling radiance at that first meeting?
Snared by the strength of his feelings, he remained stock-still. A prudent man would put some space between them, at least until the intensity of the moment passed.
Nolan took another step nearer. “The damage to the boat is worse than I remembered. I’ll need more time than I originally thought to complete the repairs.”
She turned her wistful gaze on him. “What time is the stagecoach today?”
“Noon.” His stomach clenched. Another stagecoach pulling through town was another chance to reach help, and another chance for disaster. The injury to Captain Ronald had brought home the precarious nature of their situation. “You and the girls should leave. Now. While the men are sleeping. I’ve got two saddles. You can be on your way in less than a half hour.”
“What about you?” She clutched the edge of the stove. “I won’t leave you behind.”
“I can’t leave the captain. He’s injured. He can’t ride yet. We said we’d take the first opportunity that presented itself, and this is an opportunity. Wake the girls and leave. Get as far from here as you can. They’ll be slow to follow.”
“And then what?” She pushed away from the stove and pressed the heels of her hands against her forehead. “I don’t know where I’m going. I’ll be wandering through Indian country alone with three girls. It’s too dangerous. They’d catch up with us before we reach safety.”
“You’re in as much danger staying here.”
“I can’t leave.”
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want to face the danger alone.” She dashed at her eyes. “Now you know the truth. I’m a coward at heart.”
He had a sudden need to comfort her. To pull her toward him. To cup her head in his hands and pull her lips to his own.
“You’re not a coward. The idea of letting you out of my sight terrifies me. I only want what’s best.”
“Do you truly think the girls and I are safer if we run now?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then work on the boat.” Her movements jerky, she set two mugs on the table. “It’s safer for us to stay and wait and escape together. We can travel faster that way, and we certainly won’t get lost.”
She laughed hollowly.
He took another step closer, crowding her nearer to the stove, halting her agitating pacing. “I only want to do what’s best for you and the girls.”
“I know.” She covered her eyes and inhaled a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I haven’t slept well in days. I feel as though I’m going mad.”
The walls were closing in around them all. They were living on borrowed time. He knew well enough what she was feeling, how constant fear was invading her thoughts.
Human beings were incredibly malleable, adjusting to even the most appalling living conditions. Yet everyone had their limits.
“Living in fear is exhausting,” he said.
“How did you survive Rock Island?” She flattened both palms against his chest. “How did you live in the uncertainty without going mad?”
He started at the shock of the contact. “You don’t. Not entirely.”
Her fingers were long and tapered, with neatly trimmed nails. The faint blue veins on the backs of her hands reminded him of how fragile she was, how delicate. He was acutely aware of her, entranced by her gentle touch.
Her fingers trembled against the rapid beating of his heart.
“Why do you say that?” she asked in a breathless whisper. “You’re not mad.”
“You’ve seen how I live.”
“If keeping tidy is a sign of madness, then half the world would be in a sanitarium.”
“There are other things. I sometimes count things.” She was looking at him with far too much admiration. She deserved the truth of his nature. “Obsessively. I count them and count them again.”
“I don’t understand.” Her fingers curled into the material of his shirt. “What was the last thing you counted?”
“The day you discovered the raccoon in the stove. I counted all the plates. I prefer even numbers.”
She didn’t appear disgusted, only curious.
“Why?”
“I suppose because even numbers signify order. I feel I have some control of the world around me if I can create that order.”
“I envy you.” She lifted one shoulder in a careless shrug. “I’m remarkably unmoved by disorder. I’ve never told anyone this, but there’s a part of me that needs chaos. I worry that if I had control over events around me, then I’d be responsible for their outcome. My sister always said that I was irresponsible, and I’m starting to think she was right.”
“You’re not irresponsible.” He’d seen how she doted on her nieces. “We’re simply opposites, you and I.”
“Perhaps we have something to teach each other.”
“There’s nothing from me you want to learn. I’ve gotten worse over the years. I can’t stand the thought of losing control. I thought I would heal, but I’m not.”
Her smile was sympathetic, and he searched for any sign of pity. He could tolerate her disgust more than her pity.
“It’s no wonder you’ve gotten worse living in this wilderness with nothing but your own thoughts to keep you company,” she said. “I can’t imagine anything worse.”
“You don’t understand.” Her censure of his living conditions brought an unexpected flare of anger. “I shouldn’t have spoken so candidly.”
Her posture tensed. “You’re right. I don’t understand.”
He rubbed his forehead. Attempting to explain the inexplicable was a waste of time and breath. He appreciated her caring, but he knew the truth of his condition. Remaining isolated was his best chance of recovering.
His father’s own words came back to haunt him: They’ll think you’ve gone mad.
“I shouldn’t have pried,” she said.
“It’s all right.” He’d erased the adoration from her eyes. There was no need to share any more confidences. “You were only trying to help. Some problems simply can’t be fixed.”
Tears sparkled on the edges of her eyelashes. “I’m afraid.”
“I know.” Without pausing to consider his action, he reached out and caught the moisture on the tip of his thumb. “I won’t let anything happen to you and the girls. I’d give my life for you.”
“I know.”
“Would you...?” She tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “Would you hold me? Just for a moment.”
He opened his arms and she collapsed against his chest with sob. “I don’t want to go to New York anymore. I want to go home and crawl under the covers and sleep for a week.”
Holding her trembling against him was sweet torture. His feelings for her were unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He’d known infatuation, he’d known longing. Never before had he known this soul-deep yearning.
“You’ll go home, Tilly, I promise.” He would not break that vow. His own life meant nothing in comparison. “Whatever I have to do, I’ll see that you go home.”
He rubbed her back in soothing circles and her arms tightened around his middle.
“I’m tired and confused.” She sagged against him. “There’s always been somebody telling me what to do and when to do it. There’s always been somebody criticizing my actions. First it was Eleanor, and then my father. Nothing I ever did was good enough for either of them. I’ve lived my whole life wanting to be independent and self-sufficient. I thought once I was away from them, I’d be different. Better, somehow. But I’m the same person, making all the same mistakes. Except without the benefit of someone correcting me.”
“I think you’re doing fine, Tilly. Better than fine. You’ve been superb.”
“Independence is far more grueling than I imagined.”
She tipped back her head and met his gaze. He touched her forehead with his own and let his lips rest against her sun-kissed apple cheeks. Their noses bumped, and he felt her smile. Her breath whispered against his face. The longing within him deepened, and he traced his lips toward the corner of her mouth.
She turned her head and caught his lips against hers. Her hands slid up his back and she deepened the tender embrace. Melting warmth flowed through his veins, and he shook from the force of his raw emotions.
Noises stirred from where Captain Ronald was sleeping. Nolan loosened his hold. He desperately wanted to ignore the interruption and shut out everything that stood between the two of them. For just this moment, he could pretend he was whole again. He could pretend all the world was new. Instead, he nuzzled her lips and set her away from him.
She stared at him, her cheeks flushed, looking as charmingly dazed as he felt.
The captain limped into the room. “Is there coffee?”
Though Nolan had already put a space between them, they both jumped in guilty confusion.
“On the stove,” Tilly replied. She turned away and fumbled with the burner setting. “Should be ready soon.”
The captain hobbled toward the promise of morning coffee. “What’s the plan for today?”
“The boat,” Nolan replied, surprised to find his voice calm and modulated against the rapid tempo of his heartbeat. “Repairs.”
“The boat? What good is a boat again?”
“They’re keeping a close watch on the horses. The river is our best chance. The boat is small, little more than a dinghy, and in bad repair.”
“Have you crossed the river lately?” The captain gave a negative shake of his head. “The current is dangerous. I’ve never seen the water this fast or deep. Is there no other way?”
Nolan flicked a gaze toward Tilly. “The girls can’t travel without horses. You’re injured. It’s miles by land to Yankton. We can make the trip in a fraction of the time by river. Unless you think help is coming, this is our best option.”
“I doubt help is coming.” The captain sat back in his chair. “At least not in time.”
Tilly fiddled with the bun at the nape of her neck. “Time is in short supply.”
She turned her back, and the captain looked between the two with a keen scrutiny. “I can see you’ve thought this through.”
Nolan braced one hand against the wall and worked his foot into his boot. “The outlaws have been in one place too long. They’re growing desperate. When the gold doesn’t arrive as expected, they’ll be infuriated. We have to be well out of their path when that happens.”
“You’ve made your point.” The captain slumped in his chair and stretched out his injured leg. “What an abominable mess. I snared myself with my own trap. My pride has taken a blow, I can tell you that much.”
“Your pride is the least of our worries. I need to make the repairs without attracting attention. They don’t watch us very closely, but they do watch us. They’ll notice if we change our routine.”
“Why don’t the both of you go before the outlaws wake?” the captain said. “I’ll keep an eye on the girls. I’ll send one of them to fetch you when the men stir.”
Tilly nodded eagerly. “I’d like that. I want to feel useful.”
“You’ve been more than useful,” Nolan assured her. As much as he wanted space between them to sort out his deepening feelings for her, he also wanted her near. “We should go. Quickly. We can assess the repairs and gather supplies before the men are fully awake.”
“Thank you.” Her eyes shimmered with gratitude. “I’ll fetch my boots.”
She returned quickly, her cheeks flushed with anticipation. Though Snyder dozed at his watch post, they took the extra precaution of slipping around the back of town, just in case.
Once inside the dilapidated barn, Tilly gasped. “Are you certain that can be repaired?”
The boat had been propped against the wall. There were two large, jagged holes in the bottom boards. The paint was chipped and flaking, and the bow was warped. Under the best of circumstances, the project was daunting.
“It will float,” Nolan replied grimly. “But it’s going to take patience and time.”
“The two things we don’t have.”
“If we plan to accomplish the impossible, then we’d best get started.”
“You think we can achieve the impossible?” She flashed him a teasing smile. “I’m supposed to be the optimist.”
“You’ve changed me.”
The flippant words hung in the air. Her eyes held a mutual understanding, and warmth passed between them. The moment of sharing soon evaporated, and he turned his back to hide his confusion. He was changing.
Was he healing?
He reached for a wooden box and his hand came away dirty. He absently retrieved his handkerchief and rubbed at the smudge. The stain remained. He scrubbed until the spot grew red and painful. Unable to breathe, he hung his head.
Some wounds ran too deep to heal.