Tilly’s stomach dropped and her body plummeted. Feathers beat against her face, and a bird cawed. She shrieked and flailed her arms, catching herself on the jagged floorboards. With her shoulders and arms clutching the edge of the break, her legs dangled beneath her. As Tilly clawed for purchase, the frightened bird escaped through a hole in the roof.
Victoria peered through the open door. “Are you all right, Aunt Tilly?”
“Fetch Mr. West,” Tilly shouted. “Quickly.”
She strained her head, seeking a better glimpse of the gaping hole beneath her. If she lost her grip, how far did she have to fall? Her fingers slipped, and she focused on holding herself aloft. She’d rather not find out the hard way.
Screeching and cawing, the displaced bird danced along the edge of the hole in the roof above her.
Tilly grimaced. “I’m the one who should be angry. If you hadn’t made a bunch of noise, I never would have investigated this part of the building. This is all your fault, really.”
The bird quieted, pecking its beak a few times before flying away.
Moments later, Nolan appeared in the doorway, a dark shape against the sunlight streaming through the open door.
“Don’t come any closer,” Tilly ordered. “The floor won’t hold us both.”
Nolan paused. “Hang on.”
“That was my plan.”
Victoria appeared behind him. “Will Tilly be all right? What about Caroline?”
“Elizabeth, stay back,” Nolan ordered. “Victoria, will you fetch me another lantern from the livery? We’ll finish searching for Caroline after we help your aunt Tilly.”
Tilly moved her hands for a better grip. Though her instincts urged her to flail her legs, she found if she kept still, her arms weren’t quite as strained. Nolan stretched out on the floor and crawled deeper into the building. The rotted boards groaned beneath his weight.
“Stop!” Tilly ordered.
At least ten feet separated them. Squinting, he peered through the floorboards.
“I can’t see anything,” he said. “This building doesn’t have a basement. You must be hanging over a sinkhole caused by all the rain. If that’s the case, it’s not a good idea to let go.”
“A sinkhole? How deep is a sinkhole?”
“Deep,” he replied ominously. “I’m coming closer.”
“Don’t! You can’t fall. We need you.”
“We need you, too,” he answered somberly.
Their gazes met and caught. Her whole body trembled. Tilly pointed her toe and stretched out one foot. She sensed she wasn’t far above solid ground, but she was too frightened to release her hold. Her arms strained and the rough splinters in the broken floorboard dug into her hands and the edges of the broken wood pressed against her armpits.
She pulled with all her might, struggling to drag herself over the edge. The rotted wood splintered, and she immediately stopped.
Flat on his stomach, Nolan scooted toward her.
Tilly frantically shook her head. “We’ll both fall.”
“Your hold is slipping. If the floor sags, I’ll stop.”
Her desire for rescue warred with her fear that the water-damaged floor would collapse, dropping them both into the unseen abyss below her.
She sought a better look and lost the grip with her left hand. She felt as though she might pull her right arm from the socket if she held on longer. She shut her eyes and braced for a painful landing. Nolan grasped her wrist, holding her steady.
Her eyes flew open.
“I’ve got you,” he said.
Victoria returned, a lantern held above her head. “I’m back. I need some matches.”
Nolan moved and Tilly’s heartbeat quickened. “Don’t let go.”
“I’m not letting go. I’m reaching in my pocket for some matches.”
“I’m not supposed to play with matches,” Victoria declared, a note of petulance in her voice. “You said so.”
“We’ll make an exception. Just this once.”
A delighted grin spread across her face. With a scratch of flint that spoke of practiced ease, Victoria lit the wick and replaced the glass chimney. Nolan grasped the handle and swung the light around.
“I have to come a little closer,” he said.
“Be careful.”
“I will.”
The floorboard strained and creaked. Tilly attempted to look over her shoulder.
“Look at me,” Nolan said. “Don’t look down. Just keep looking at me.”
She gave a hesitant nod.
When he’d breached the distance, their faces were mere inches apart. Tilly stared into his eyes, willing herself to remain calm, willing her arms to remain strong.
With a better vantage point, he dangled the lantern beside her. Inching closer, he pushed up on one elbow and glanced down. The grip around her wrist tightened.
Her stomach plummeted.
“How bad—”
The edge of the floor gave way, ripping the words from her throat. She barely had time to register the terror before her feet struck solid ground. As though in slow motion, Nolan fell before her. Since he’d been lying down, he hit the ground with the full length of his body.
A sickening thud sounded.
She immediately rushed to his side. “Are you all right?”
He groaned. “Told you. The fall wasn’t that bad.”
“Don’t joke until I know that you’re all right. Can you move your arms and legs? Does your chest hurt?”
“I was wrong.” He grunted and flopped onto his back. “This building does have a space under the floorboards.”
She studied their new surroundings. “Well, if you’re not hurt, we’d best see about finding Caroline. These buildings are dangerous. Someone could get hurt.”
“I think someone did get hurt,” Victoria offered helpfully from her vantage point above them. “Mr. West doesn’t look so good.”
“I’m not hurt,” Nolan insisted. “I’m simply catching my breath.”
“Are you certain?” Tilly asked. “You’re awfully pale.”
“Nothing to worry about.”
“You probably shouldn’t lie on the ground like that. You’ll catch your death in this mud.” She glanced around their surroundings and shuddered. “Who knows what else is hiding in here?”
Nolan righted the lantern at his side. “We’re so close to the river. They didn’t lay foundations beneath these buildings. The ground must have been too soft. They’ve placed footings instead.”
“Fascinating.” Her boots were rapidly sinking in the soft muddy earth. She tipped back her head and stared at the sky, which was visible a story and a half above, through the broken roof. “If we don’t get out of here before the rain starts, we’re going to need a boat.”
She reached for Nolan, slipping on the muddy floor.
He struggled upright, his hand wrapped around her upper arm for support, a speculative gleam in his eye. “Miss Hargreaves, you are a genius.”
* * *
There was no time to ponder Tilly’s brilliant deduction. With Caroline still missing, Nolan hoisted himself onto the splintered floorboards. His canvas pants caught on a jagged edge, ripping the material apart along the seam.
He assisted Tilly and protectively covered the hole in his trousers. She caught sight of his maneuver and quickly glanced away.
Victoria raised her hand.
“What is it?” Tilly asked.
“I think I know what happened to Caroline.”
Nolan whipped around. “Is she all right? What happened?”
Victoria tugged her lower lip between her teeth. “You better see for yourself.”
Nolan exchanged a confused look with Tilly. “Lead the way.”
After the horror of seeing Tilly nearly plunge to her death, discovering Caroline had locked herself in the abandoned jail cell paled in comparison.
Tilly pressed her palm against her forehead. “Victoria, why didn’t you tell us immediately?”
“Because one time Elizabeth got lost in the park. Mama was so excited when we found her that she forgot to be mad. I figured if you were worried first, then you’d forget to be mad.”
“While I understand your reasoning,” Tilly said, “in the future, let’s not dillydally.”
Victoria scuffed the floor. “All right. The door is stuck tight.”
Both Tilly and Nolan yanked on the bars, and they both came to the same conclusion: The door was stuck tight.
“Caroline seems fine for the moment,” Nolan mumbled. “I, uh, I need a minute. I’ll be right back.”
Tilly glanced at the place where his fingers clutched the fabric of his trousers together, and didn’t argue.
Changing from his filthy clothing went quickly. Scrubbing the mud from beneath his fingernails took longer. Three times he turned to leave, and three times he found himself back at the wash bucket. Only when his skin turned pink and raw was he able to return to the jail.
The first time he’d entered the building, he’d been panicked about Caroline and had barely glanced around. This time he took in his surroundings.
Ancient and faded Wanted posters hung haphazardly, offering rewards for men who were probably dead or jailed already. A map covered the opposite wall, the ink stained and blurred from a leak in the roof that had dripped down the paper. In the center of the room, the ceiling pipe had come loose from the top of the potbellied stove, and a pile of ash had formed beneath the separated chimney.
Caroline reclined on the rusty springs of a cot, the back of her head propped against the wall, her hands threaded over her stomach. She caught sight of Nolan and offered a cheerful wave.
“Hello again, Mr. West.”
“Hello again, Caroline.”
No one appeared angered by his lengthy delay, which only increased his guilt.
“Victoria was telling me about what happened to Aunt Tilly,” Caroline said. “I almost hid out in that building, but I was afraid of the critters. I think there was a bird nesting somewhere in there.”
Tilly rolled her eyes. “Yes. There was most definitely a bird nesting in the Pyrite Trading Company.”
“Did you figure out how the door became stuck?” Nolan asked.
“Apparently they were playing hide-and-seek. The jailhouse was the perfect location for hiding. Caroline slipped inside, and now the gated door won’t open.”
Though Tilly’s hem was blackened nearly to her knees, and dirt streaked her arms and face, she appeared singularly unconcerned by her appearance.
Shame tightened in his chest. He’d left Tilly muddy and bruised and Caroline trapped in the cell for longer than necessary because of his selfish urges. Recalling Tilly’s near miss, a helpless rage built inside him. The harder he tried to fight his urges, the harder they fought back.
“At least you had the sense to clean up.” Tilly glanced at her filthy hands and grimaced. “I’m going to rinse off my hands. I’ll change later, if you don’t mind the filth.”
“I don’t mind.”
He’d been raised a Southern gentleman, he’d fought a war as a Southern gentleman, but no gentleman would behave as he had.
He wasn’t a man with good sense; he was a man who couldn’t control his own compulsions. An admission of his flaw welled up from his soul and hovered on his tongue. He swallowed hard and tried to force out the words. He was a man of inexplicable impulses. He was a flawed man who didn’t know how to fight the urges that overwhelmed him.
How could he explain to someone else what was wrong with him when he couldn’t even explain the weakness to himself? Tamping down his frustration, he drew a deep breath and steeled himself. Another few days, and he’d be alone again. He needed the solitude to heal.
“This day has turned into quite an adventure,” Tilly said. A ghost of a smile drew the edges of her mouth upward. “I think Caroline was actually enjoying the peace and quiet until her sisters stormed in.”
“She appears remarkably unconcerned with her fate.” Nolan cast a sidelong glance at the trapped child. “She’s not scared or hurt?”
Though she’d seemed fine when he made his hasty exit before, he hadn’t exactly waited around to find out for certain. He’d been too focused on his own needs.
“She’s being quite brave,” Tilly said.
“I’m fine,” Caroline added cheerily. “I’ve never been locked in a jail cell before. I can’t wait to tell Mama.”
“Your mother is going to throttle me,” Tilly grumbled. “She’s never been overly confident in my abilities.”
Caroline giggled. “Mama told us all about the time you decided to run away from home. She said you made it all the way to the end of the lane before you got too scared and came running home. She said that you cried for an hour.”
“How nice of your mother to share that experience.” A flush of color crept up Tilly’s neck. “There was a very large, very frightening dog lurking at the end of that lane. I had every right to be afraid.”
Yanking hard, Nolan tested the jammed door. The corner had wedged into the rotted wood floor, and the tip was solidly imbedded. He kneeled and studied the latch.
Tilly leaned over his shoulder. “Is it locked or something?”
He turned his head toward her, and his gaze landed on her parted lips. “It’s not locked, it’s stuck,” he said, his voice thick. “The structure of the building has shifted. When the door closed, the corner dug into the floor. We’ll have to dig it out.”
In order to distract his attention from the slight flush of color on her cheeks, marred only by a streak of dried mud, Nolan mentally ticked off the array of tools he’d need from the livery.
She hoisted an eyebrow. “You know, we have the perfect men for this problem.”
“I don’t follow.”
“Who better to break someone out of jail than a bunch of outlaws?”
Nolan straightened and dusted his hands. “I’d rather keep that as a last resort.”
“Agreed. But keep in mind we may not have a choice.” She tilted her head. “Are you all right? You look a bit peaked today.”
“Tired, is all.”
“I don’t think any of us are sleeping well.”
He hadn’t slept more than a few minutes at a time since the arrival of Tilly and her nieces two nights ago. Though he’d attempted to keep his routine as normal as possible, he felt the pull of the nightmares, and he was worried about frightening his unexpected houseguests.
As long as he kept to his routine, he was largely in control of his disquiet. Except his routine had been completely disrupted these past few days, and the changes were taking their toll on his endurance. Tilly didn’t understand why their presence was disruptive, and there was no way of explaining without admitting his own instability.
She kneeled beside him. “Where can we find some tools for a jailbreak?”
He retrieved the pristine handkerchief from his breast pocket and gently dabbed at the spot of mud on her cheek. She gasped and scrubbed at the spot with her fingers.
“Did I get it?” she asked. “I must look a mess.”
“Let me.”
He finished cleaning the spot, and his gaze dropped to her lips once more. His heartbeat quickened and his breathing turned shallow.
A tumult of conflicting emotions warred within him. He was drawn to her, and yet he wanted to run from the terrifying longings she stirred inside him. She evoked yearnings he’d never felt before, and couldn’t act upon. He couldn’t drag anyone else into his waking nightmare. Maybe in a few years, when he’d overcome the impulses, and the nightmares abated.
He’d never been an extraordinary man, even before the war. He’d been a simple farmer like his father before him. Yet he mourned that simple man—the man he’d been before the war.
He folded his handkerchief in a neat square and replaced the material in his pocket.
Her expression softened. “Are you certain you’re all right? You have an odd look in your eyes.”
“What kind of look is that?”
“Troubled.”
He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. She was far too perceptive. In that instant he understood why Bill had confided in her. There was a sense of peace and belonging about her. Her forthright manner invited confidence.
When he’d seen how she affected Bill, he’d vowed to keep a barrier between them. He’d been too late from the beginning. She’d already stolen past his defenses, and he vowed to redouble his efforts. The less she knew about him, the better. He didn’t want her looking at him as though he was a madman.
“I’ll cut the door free,” Nolan said, his voice harsher than he’d intended. “The wood of the floor is soft, shouldn’t take too long. I’ll fetch my saw.”
“I’ll go along.”
“I can manage.”
“I know you can manage, but I want to fetch Caroline some water and a snack.”
“Yes. Of course.”
“All right, girls.” Tilly clapped her hands, gathering their attention. “Be good while we’re gone. One crisis at a time, if you please. My nerves can only handle so much. We’ll be right back.”
“Mama says her nerves are shot, too,” Caroline said from the cell. “How come your nerves don’t last when you’re an adult?”
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“I hate that answer.”
Tilly sighed. “Your present circumstances should offer a clue.”
“You mean parents can’t keep their nerves healthy because kids are always getting into trouble and stuff?”
“There’s much more to it, but that’s a good place to start.”
Nolan smothered a grin.
Tilly patted both Elizabeth and Victoria on the head. “Stay out of trouble.”
Together Nolan and Tilly walked the length of the street toward the relay station. They parted when they reached the livery.
As Nolan entered the darkened barn, Dakota Red jerked upright from his nap on a hay bale.
“What’s going on?” He mumbled, his eyes only half-open. “What are you doing, stagecoach man?”
The outlaw blindly waved his gun and Nolan ducked.
“Put down that gun, you fool. You’ll kill me.”
“Don’t sneak up on a man if you don’t want to die. Whaddya doing in here?”
“We’ve found the lost girl. She’s gotten herself stuck in the old jail cell. We need some tools.”
“Tools? I ain’t giving you no tools. How do I know you won’t try and use them against me? You could murder me while I sleep.”
“Then don’t sleep.” Nolan gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. “Someone has to free the girl from that jail cell. It’s me or you. Your choice.”
“Watch your attitude, boy.” A vein throbbed in the outlaw’s forehead. “You’ve been doing real well up until this point, stagecoach man. Remember how I said that we’d be building trust? This is another opportunity for you and me. You can fetch your tools, but if you abuse my goodwill, I’ll let Charlie shoot you between the eyes like he’s been itching to do. You follow me?”
“Yep.” Nolan swallowed back his pride. Antagonizing the outlaw only meant Caroline would be trapped longer. “I’ll just be about my business.”
Dakota Red leaned back against the hay bale once more, tugging the brim of his hat over his eyes. “Make it quick.”
Nolan quickly fetched what he needed and left the outlaw to his slumber. Tilly waited for him near the double doors, her arms laden with a basket and a blanket.
A storm rumbled in the distance.
“I heard what that outlaw said to you,” she declared. “I hope all three of them rot in jail. Dakota Red is a bully. If he didn’t have that gun, he’d be nothing more than a nuisance. I bet you could sock him good.”
Her confidence in his ability bolstered his male ego. “Maybe.”
A light misting of rain peppered their cheeks. Tilly swiped at the moisture. “I’ve never seen this much rain in my life. Has the river ever flooded?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here a year.”
The spring had been unnaturally wet, blanketing the countryside in emerald green. While he’d explored other areas of Nebraska, none had quite the same feel as the Niobrara River Valley. Though the sand hills had their own unique beauty, they were nothing but stark, rolling hills. The Platte River Valley was drab and uninspiring, endless prairie flatlands with a few trees breaking up the barren, unrelenting horizon.
The Niobrara Valley, in contrast, was lush and rolling, with secluded valleys and knots of cottonwoods. Not long after the turn of the century, Meriwether Lewis and William Clark had camped near Old Baldy and captured a prairie dog for President Jefferson. Over the past year he’d poured over reprinted copies of their journals, fascinated by their travels.
Tilly marched down the street, her long strides matching his. Everything about her was graceful and efficient, with a minimum of adornment. Yet there was a spark in the details—the contrasting red calico of her yellow dress, the long braid wrapped around the simple knot at the base of her neck, her vivid eyes the color of a Virginia bluebell.
They reached the jail and she pushed open the door. The air was dank and he kicked a loose brick before the door, propping it open for a breeze.
The children had trampled through the mess, leaving sooty footprints across the floor. There was no pattern to the steps—the trails crisscrossed and doubled back on each other, some faded and some dark. His skin crawled. Nolan backed toward the exit. Perhaps he could retrieve a broom and a dustpan.
Tilly grasped his sleeve. “Don’t lose your nerve now. Left to my own devices, I’m liable to bring the building down around us.”
She trekked through the ashy footprints and he trailed behind her, missing the worst of the dust.
The sheriff’s office was the same as any other he’d seen over the years. A front room for the sheriff to drink, smoke and gossip with the townfolk, and a back room that held the jail cell.
Elizabeth and Victoria sat crosslegged outside the bars. Caroline sat on her knees in the enclosure, her arms before her, her hands limp.
Elizabeth playfully poked a stick through the bars.
“Stop this instant,” Tilly shouted. “What on earth are you doing?”
“She’s a bear,” Victoria said, affronted. “We’re pretending like she’s a bear in a cage.”
“Well that’s no way to treat a bear or your sister. Find another game.”
“She doesn’t mind.”
“I mind.” Tilly planted her hands on her hips and scowled. “You are not allowed to poke each other with branches. Even in jest.”
“You’re not as fun as you were when we started this trip.”
“You have no idea.”
Victoria tossed aside her stick and curled her fingers together. “This place is filthy.”
“Agreed,” Tilly replied. She pinched the edges of a dented spittoon and tossed it aside. “Every building in this town is a disaster. Apparently the inhabitants simply dropped their belongings and fled. I guess people don’t care about leaving a good impression when they’re abandoning a town.”
“Mama cared,” Victoria said. “She cared about leaving a good impression. Mama said she was leaving the bank a clean house.”
“The bank?” Tilly asked. “I think you mean the people buying your house.”
“Mama hates the bank. That’s all I know.”
“If cleanliness is next to godliness, your mother is seated at the right hand of the Lord, that’s for certain.”
Carolina and Victoria giggled.
Tilly grasped the bars and poked her nose through the opening. “Just a little while longer, Caroline. Don’t worry. We’ll have you out of there lickety-split.”
Nolan shook off the past and focused on the current situation. Not only did Caroline seem unconcerned by her confinement, but she also appeared to be enjoying her role as the center of attention. With two siblings, no doubt the opportunity was rare.
Caroline folded her hands over her stomach. “Did you bring some water?”
“Yes. And some sandwiches. We’ll make a party of your entrapment.” Tilly dug through her basket, retrieving the wrapped lunch. “Mr. West has an idea on how he can free you.”
“Let’s see.” He rubbed his chin with a thumb and forefinger and made a show of considering the situation. “I have some dynamite back at the house.”
Blanching, Caroline shot upright. “Isn’t that dangerous?”
Victoria giggled.
“He’s teasing,” Tilly said. “You’re teasing, aren’t you?”
Mostly. Dynamite would definitely bust the lock. If it had been him trapped in the cell, he’d take the option immediately. He couldn’t stomach confined spaces.
“I’m teasing,” he said.
The mere thought of being trapped sent his heart hammering in his chest. He covered his unease by studying the spot where the bars had jammed into the floorboards. Sweat slicked his palms and he set down the pry bar. The metal was stronger than the floor, which meant he might be able to force them loose.
He braced the bent tip on the bar, then leaned back, levering his weight against the action.
For the next fifteen minutes, he attempted to pry free the door without success.
Tilly studied her nails. “Can’t you simply unscrew the hinges or something?”
“They’re welded shut. It’s not good for business if you can simply unscrew the hinges.”
“I suppose not.” She tossed him a withering glance. “Do you need a break? I’ve brought a sandwich for you, as well.”
“I can’t take a break until Caroline is free.”
“Sure you can.”
Her casual acceptance of the situation baffled him. “I’ll have to cut through the floor. That could take hours.”
“All right.”
“Didn’t you hear me? She’ll be trapped in there for hours.”
“She’s got food, she’s got water and she’s got company. She’ll survive for a few hours.”
The second year of his confinement, a prisoner in their barracks had struck a guard with a rock. In retaliation, their meager rations had been halved. Close to starvation, he’d slipped beneath the fence and stolen slop from the kitchen refuse. His transgression had cost him a lengthy stay of shackled, isolated confinement. He didn’t know how long they’d kept him in that tiny box—he’d lost all track of time and place.
Sweat beaded on his forehead. “I can’t be here.”
As casually as he could muster, Nolan strode past the curious stares of Tilly and her nieces. Once outside, he hung his head and took several deep, heaving breaths.
A moment later the door opened beside him.
“Mr. West,” Tilly called. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
He fisted his hand against the chipped paint exterior of the jail and straightened. “I need a different tool.”
Anything to buy himself some time before going back inside. The mere idea of being confined behind the bars sent his skin crawling. He loathed feeling like this—helpless and frustrated by impulses he didn’t understand. He’d never had these troubles before the war. While he’d never had much affection for small spaces, he’d been able to overcome the difficulty. Since his time at Rock Island, the fear left him vulnerable.
“You needn’t be ashamed, Mr. West,” Tilly said. “Lots of people are claustrophobic. Thankfully, Caroline isn’t one of those people.”
“My fears shouldn’t matter. I’m not the one locked inside there.”
“I’m terribly frightened of heights. When someone else approaches a precipice, my hands sweat and my heart pounds. Even if I’m nowhere near the edge myself, watching the other person breach the distance is frightening.”
“You don’t need to placate me.”
Her sympathy only exacerbated his shame. He should be stronger.
“Why don’t you stay out here for a few minutes? Breathe the fresh air and don’t think about closed spaces. I’ll keep the girls busy. Everyone has something that frightens them. My father’s cousin is frightened of horses. She fell off a horse as a child, and she doesn’t ride. I think that’s why she lives in New York City. She can walk everywhere. Every family has an eccentric member.”
He was about to take over the role in his family, an idea that was far from comforting. “My aunt Vicky has fifteen goats.”
“That doesn’t seem odd.”
“She dresses them on holidays.”
“My point exactly.” Tilly grinned. “Every family has an eccentric member.”
Anxiety knotted his stomach. He didn’t want to be the “Aunt Vicky” in the family. The person that folks talked about with a mixture of amusement and pity. He’d rather live in solitude than suffer that fate.
“I’m all right,” he said. “I can finish. As soon as I’m done here, I have to prepare for the next stagecoach.”
“The next stagecoach.” Tilly blanched. “I just realized something.”
Immediately concerned, Nolan straightened. “What?”
“For all we know, Eleanor might be on the next stagecoach,” Tilly said. “She doesn’t know what’s going on, which means she’s liable to get us all killed!”