A Temporary Family

A suitable reply escaped him. Nolan finally settled on “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Are you talking about Papa?” Victoria asked.

“Yes.” Tilly covered the girl’s hand. “I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Victoria, her eyes solemn, only shrugged. “I don’t miss him as much as Mama. He was never home. When is Mama meeting us at Nanny and Poppy’s in Omaha? Will we visit you at your house after Mama arrives?”

Tilly’s lips whitened and made an exaggerated point of smoothing her napkin in her lap. “Your mother is only a week or so behind us. Of course you’ll visit me before I leave for New York. Your mother would never miss the opportunity to critique my efforts and find me wanting.”

“What does critique mean?”

Nolan glanced between the two.

Miss Hargreaves blanched. “Never mind.”

A bugle call sounded.

Instantly alert, his stomach muscles knotted.

Miss Hargreaves reached for his arm. “What’s that?”

“The cavalry,” Nolan said, stepping out of her reach.

“Is that good or bad?”

The arrival of his unexpected guests had distracted Nolan from his earlier unease. Had the cavalry been scouting him earlier? Captain Ronald, the leader of the local fort, had some odd notions. Nolan forced the tension from his shoulders and turned away from the four pairs of eyes staring expectantly at him.

“Probably nothing,” he said. “Everyone stay inside until I know whether there’s trouble or not.”

This had better be a routine check, because as long as Miss Hargreaves and her nieces remained at the relay station, the girls were his responsibility.

And if there was one thing the war hadn’t stolen from him, he took his responsibilities seriously.

* * *

After ten minutes, Tilly stood and tossed her napkin on the table. If only her brother-in-law hadn’t gone and died. Walter’s timing had never been good. Eleanor had married her father’s law clerk, a handsome fellow who might have made a good husband if it weren’t for the gold rush. Though her sister had wanted to remain living near Tilly and their father, as soon as the war ended, Walter had dragged Eleanor to the wilds of Montana in search of instant riches. They’d been gone nearly two years when he was killed in a mining accident.

Last month, Eleanor had written to say she was returning home to Omaha to live with Walter’s parents. Staying with Eleanor and Tilly’s widowed father was out of the question. Their father had never been much for disruption even before their mother’s death.

Eleanor had demanded Tilly’s assistance with their travels. Though frustrated by the delay in her own plans, Tilly had dutifully made the trip. Except nothing had gone as Tilly had expected.

Claiming she couldn’t finish tying up the loose ends of Walter’s passing with the children underfoot, Eleanor had sent Tilly and the girls ahead of her. Alone.

A fierce quarrel, conducted in hushed tones in deference to the girls, had ensued. In her usual high-handed manner, Eleanor had instructed Tilly to care for the girls better than Tilly had cared for her clothing and belongings as a child. The argument was old and recycled, and Tilly invariably lost. Eleanor was five years older and had an excellent memory. She’d dredged up every item of hers that Tilly had lost or broken over the years. When they’d reached the inevitable point in the argument when Eleanor recalled a borrowed dress Tilly had ruined with spilled punch, Tilly had thrown up her hands and relented.

Though not without a few muttered annoyances.

After all, if Eleanor thought so little of Tilly’s abilities, why entrust her with the girls? Eleanor had responded by pointing out that Tilly merely had to board the stagecoach in Virginia City, and disembark in Omaha.

The unspoken words had been cutting and obvious—even Tilly couldn’t botch such a simple task.

“I’m going to check on Mr. West,” Tilly said. “You three stay here.”

Elizabeth grinned. “I three.”

The child was inordinately pleased with her recent birthday.

“You should be very proud. It’s a very advanced age.”

Tilly stepped outside and glanced at the sky. A flotilla of angry clouds had formed along the horizon. Perfect. More rain. For the past week, there’d been nothing but rain, rain and more rain. The stagecoach had nearly gotten stuck more than once, and floating across the Niobrara River had been precarious against the swift tide.

Tilly paused midstride. A half a dozen cavalry officers on horseback had mustered in the clearing between the relay station and Main Street. Their uniforms might have been crisp and blue at one point, but the men were covered in a fine coat of trail dust. The gold braiding on their hats was frayed, and their brass buttons tarnished from wear.

“You didn’t tell us you had guests,” a voice drawled. “Be careful, West, or you’ll lose your reputation as a recluse.”

The man speaking was clearly the leader of the bunch. He leaned slightly forward, letting the reins of his horse droop. The officer was handsome, with a straight nose and a strong jaw highlighted by his bushy muttonchops.

“Didn’t have a choice,” Nolan said.

The officer smoothed one hand down the front of his coat. “Introduce me.”

Her gaze slid toward Mr. West. He stood with his feet braced apart and his arms crossed over his chest. Of the two men, she much preferred the clean-shaven stagecoach employee. He was too rugged to be strictly handsome. His jaw was too strong, his nose too aquiline and his mouth too hard for what passed for true masculine beauty. His hair might have been blond as a child, but had darkened to a tawny brown with age. Yet there was something compelling about him, a mystery in the depths of those hazel eyes. If she had more time here, she’d relish the challenge of solving the puzzle of his clipped answers and taciturn silence.

Except she wasn’t sticking around any longer than absolutely necessary, especially now that Eleanor was returning. Being under Eleanor’s thumb these past few days had only reinforced Tilly’s decision. She was heartily sick of always being judged and found lacking.

Following the end of the war, when her father’s law clerks had returned, the work she’d done in their absence had been gradually removed from her oversight. She was bored and restless.

The cavalry officer grinned at her, and touched the brim of his hat. “Captain Ronald, miss. At your disposal.”

Tilly plastered a cheerful look on her face. His attention was less flattering than perfunctory. If Eleanor was here, she knew from experience that he’d hardly spare her a glance.

“Pleasure to meet you, Captain. I’m Miss Hargreaves.”

“Where’s Perry?” Nolan demanded.

At the growl in his voice, Tilly took an unconscious step back. Clearly there was animosity simmering between the two men.

“Perry is patrolling another area,” Captain Ronald said. “You’ll have to deal with me, much as it pains you.” He turned his attention toward Tilly. “Don’t you worry about the danger, ma’am. We’ve got extra patrols between here and Omaha. You’ll be as safe as a baby in a cradle.”

“Danger?” Shock rippled through Tilly. “What danger?”

“As I said, don’t you worry your pretty little head, ma’am.” The captain touched the yellow handkerchief knotted around his neck. “The mining company is sending a shipment of gold from Virginia City on one of the stagecoaches, and we’ve gotten word that Dakota Red and his brother are in the area. They busted out of jail and need money. Nothing for you to fret about, though. We’re sending out a decoy to trap them. When they hold up the wrong stagecoach, we’ll nab them.”

“That sounds rather dangerous.”

“Nothing my boys can’t handle.”

Tilly thought she heard a low guffaw, but when she turned toward Nolan, his face was impassive.

“Why the stagecoach?” Nolan demanded. “Why aren’t they shipping the gold on the riverboat?”

“The last riverboat sunk, and they haven’t replaced it yet. Why do you think your stagecoach traffic has doubled? There’s a lot happening in the world. You ought to get out of the wilderness once in a while, Nolan.”

The stagecoach man made a sound of disgust. “The mining company ought to wait on shipping that gold. That haul is as good as stolen.”

His conviction chilled Tilly. What if the outlaws robbed the stagecoach near Pyrite?

“I’m traveling with children.” She made a feeble gesture toward the relay station. “Are you certain it’s safe for us here?”

“Children?” The captain’s interest seemed to slacken at the mention of her nieces. “Dakota Red and his brother were spotted on the other side of the river. There’s only one place to cross, which means they can’t travel south without one of my men spotting them. This relay station is the best place to be, given the circumstances. You’re safe under my watch.”

He added a self-satisfied grin that was probably meant to inspire her trust.

“Thank you, Captain Ronald.” She offered an overly bright smile in return. Since there was little chance of them meeting again, she might as well humor the man. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she trusted Nolan’s assessment of the situation more than the cavalry officer’s opinion. “I appreciate both your concern and the protection of your men.”

“My pleasure, ma’am.” His sat up straighter, puffing out his chest. “If those boys so much as sneeze, we’ll know.”

“I’m sure your men are more than capable.” Despite the captain’s assurances, a nagging sense of unease lingered. “I appreciate your vigilance.”

If something happened to the girls, she’d never forgive herself. Both her father and Eleanor had been frustrated by her irresponsibility in the past. Their criticism was exaggerated, though not entirely unfounded. She wasn’t exactly irresponsible, she was simply distracted easily. While the two of them could focus on one task to the exclusion of all else, Tilly preferred flitting from activity to activity. Her lack of commitment drove them to distraction.

“Aunt Tilly!” Victoria hollered from the doorway of the relay station. “You’d best come quick. Caroline is sick again.”

“Oh, dear. Duty calls, Captain Ronald.”

“Don’t let me keep you.” The captain touched the brim of his hat, a slight hint of distaste marring his handsome face. “We’ll scout the area. Those outlaws will be in custody in no time.”

“Much obliged, Captain,” Tilly said.

The captain signaled to his men, and the unit broke into a canter.

Tilly hastily returned inside. To her surprise, Mr. West was close on her heels.

Caroline had slumped over the table. Her arm was hooked over her head. “I feel worse, Aunt Tilly.”

“I gathered as much,” Tilly soothed.

Caroline was a replica of Eleanor at that age.

Because of their age difference, following the death of their mother, Eleanor had taken over the role of matriarch in the family. Eleanor had been a strict parent, stricter even than their father. Now the task of caring for Caroline fell to Tilly, though she was ill-suited for the role. She knew one thing for certain—she was going to be a far less severe guardian than Eleanor.

“I’ll fetch you some water,” Tilly said, uncertain how else to assist her niece.

She’d never been one to play house and care for dolls the way Eleanor had. She’d never been much for courting, either. Eleanor had always been the sister who attracted romantic attention, while Tilly had been the sister that men befriended. Usually in the hopes of getting closer to Eleanor.

Tilly had the uneasy feeling that her sister’s marriage had not been entirely happy. Though Eleanor had always denied any discontent, with each subsequent visit home, she’d become a shell of her former self. If the life Eleanor had been dreaming about since she was a child had done that to her, Tilly wanted no part of marriage. She refused to suffer the same fate as her sister.

“There’s a room in the back,” Mr. West said. “Caroline can rest there.”

Relief rushed through Tilly. “Thank you, Mr. West.”

“Call me Nolan.”

He scooped Caroline into his arms and carried her down the corridor. Grateful for his assistance, Tilly trailed after them. The room he’d chosen was sparsely furnished with only a bed and a small table, but the space was spotless. He rested Caroline on the counterpane.

Tilly touched his arm, and the muscles tensed beneath her fingers.

“Is she going to be all right?” she asked. “Do you think we should send for a doctor?”

“The nearest doctor is in the village of Yankton, and that’s a two-day ride. There’s a fellow who comes through town once in a while, but I never know when.” Nolan pressed the backs of his knuckles against Caroline’s forehead. “She’s not running a fever. It’s probably just something she ate.”

Bill Golden appeared in the doorway, concern etched on his grizzled face. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Tilly considered her options. Travel by stagecoach was uncomfortable in the best of circumstances. The air was stifling, the bumpy conditions grueling and the chance for rest all but impossible.

“I don’t think she can travel.” Tilly wrapped her arms around her midriff. “Can you wait until she’s better?”

“I’m afraid not.” Bill scratched his forehead. “This here is a mail coach. The mail has to go through. The passengers are secondary.”

“When is the next stagecoach?”

“Thursday.”

“We can’t wait until Thursday.”

“I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”

Tilly’s shoulders sagged.

Nolan scowled. “I can’t have a bunch of greenhorns underfoot.”

Her stomach knotted, and she pictured Eleanor’s disapproving frown. The simple task of boarding the stagecoach in Virginia City, Montana, and exiting once they arrived in Omaha, had suddenly become a whole lot more complicated.

She clasped her hands before her. “Surely you can stay an hour or two. I’m certain Caroline will be much improved by then. This town doesn’t appear fit for children.”

“She’s right.” Nolan set his chin in a stubborn line. “This lady has no business being here.”

Her spine stiffened. This lady? This lady?

The way he said the words made her sound singularly incompetent. She narrowed her gaze. At least Eleanor and her father had a basis for their criticism. She certainly hadn’t traveled all this way to take orders from a man who knew nothing about her capabilities. The stagecoach man had no foundation for the contempt in his voice.

“You don’t have a choice, Mr. West,” Tilly challenged. “If Caroline is unable to travel, we’re staying put, and that’s that.”

“I’m in charge.” The stagecoach man propped his hands on his lean hips. “And I’ll have the last say.”

Chapter Two

So much for being in charge.

The day following the arrival of his unexpected guests, Nolan glanced up from placing a harness on the peg in the livery. A scrape sounded and Victoria appeared in the opening of the livery doors. Her two dark braids rested against her shoulders, and her blue calico dress was clean and neat with a starched apron tied around her waist, an improvement over her younger sister.

Nolan brushed at the phantom blueberry stain on his knee.

The girl jammed her hands in the pockets of her apron, stretching the material taut. “Whatcha doin?”

“Oiling the harnesses.”

“How come?”

“Because dry leather cracks and breaks. Oiled leather is stronger.”

“What happens if the leather breaks?”

“The horses get hurt.”

“Can I help?”

“I’m finished,” Nolan said.

Victoria grasped the oil can. “What’s this?”

“Machine oil.” Nolan reached for the tin and replaced the base in the circle in he’d drawn on the workbench. “For machines.”

He nudged the handle until the tin faced north.

“Oh.” Victoria plucked a tool from the wall. “What’s this?”

“Pincers.” Nolan retrieved the tool and hooked the handle on the nail in the silhouette he’d drawn on the wall. “For shoeing horses.”

“Are you a blacksmith?”

“No. But sometimes a horse will throw a shoe on the trail. I can do some basic repairs.”

“It sure is quiet in this town.”

“I like quiet.”

“Hmph.” Victoria tapped her chin. “Do you have any matches? I want to light a fire.”

“Stay away from fire.” Nolan slid his hand over the box on his workbench. He surreptitiously stowed the matches in his pocket. “Even with the rain, the buildings along Main Street are nothing but dry tinder.”

“I just wondered.” Victoria shrugged. “Aunt Tilly found some oil lamps.”

“Where did she find them?”

“She and Elizabeth are exploring the town while Caroline sleeps.”

“Your aunt sure keeps busy.”

“Mama said that Aunt Tilly needs activity like some other folks need water or air.”

“You don’t say.”

He’d managed to cover his outburst the previous afternoon with relatively little notice. He’d set up a cot in the livery, and let his guests take over the relay station. Mostly he’d spent his time avoiding Miss Hargreaves. She had a look in her eye that didn’t bode well. She kept staring at him as though he was a knot she wanted to unravel. He wouldn’t let her get to him like she’d gotten to Bill.

“I like Aunt Tilly,” Victoria said, “but I miss my mama.”

He was curious about the circumstances, but reluctant to pry. Pulling answers from a seven-year-old didn’t sit well with him. “I’m sorry about that.”

“Mama stayed behind to sell our furniture and stuff, but that’s not what she told Aunt Tilly,” the girl said matter-of-factly. “I don’t think Mama wants Aunt Tilly to know that we’re poor. Mama even sold our horse and our dollhouse. We’re going to live with our nanny and poppy in Omaha because Papa spent all our money and left us with a worthless gold mine. Mama said that she wasn’t surprised our pa died. She always said that gold fever was going to kill him. Can you catch gold fever?”

“No.” Nolan cleared his throat. “Sorry about your pa, too.”

He tugged on his collar. That was more information than he’d intended to learn. While he figured Eleanor ought to confide in her sister, pride was an emotion he understood all too well, and he certainly wasn’t the man to pass judgment on someone else.

“I’m glad you can’t catch gold fever,” Victoria said. “I don’t think Mama liked Pa very much. She complained that he worked all the time and made us live in Virginia City.”

“I’m sure she liked your pa just fine. Sometimes folks say things they don’t mean.”

An ear-splitting scream sounded from the direction of the abandoned hotel. Nolan’s chest tightened.

Victoria took off through the double doors in a dash but Nolan quickly outpaced the child. He crossed the street and vaulted over the boardwalk railing, then shoved open the door of the hotel. Frightened chatter reverberated from the recesses of the building.

He wove his way through the abandoned tables and chairs that littered the dining space and pushed into the kitchen. A small hand tugged on the hem of his shirt, leaving a purple print. A muscle throbbed in his temple.

The toddler seemed to have an endless supply of blackberries.

“Ti-wy,” Elizabeth said.

The little girl appeared unhurt, and his heartbeat slowed a notch.

“It’s all right.” He patted her head. “I’ll take care of this.”

Tilly perched atop a single chair with a broom held protectively before her.

“What is it?” Nolan demanded. “What’s happened?”

“In there.” Tilly gestured with her broom handle. “There’s something in the stove.”

He motioned with his hand. “Hand me the broom.”

While he’d known the hotel was equipped with a kitchen, he’d never explored the building. An enormous cast-iron stove took up most of the limited space. The chimney pipe exited through the ceiling, and light showed around the space.

Opposite the chimney, a bench and shelves lined the wall. The room smelled of neglect and dust coated every surface. The untidy mess triggered his unease, and he searched for something to ground him.

Disorder in the spaces surrounding him had a way of seeping into his mood. The previous owner had left behind only a few dented pots and pans, along with some chipped plates and cups. He snatched a bandana from his back pocket and pinched the edge of a plate between the unsoiled fabric. With his fingers protected from the dust, he stacked one dish atop another, then repeated the process.

“What are you doing?” Tilly wore a scarf wrapped around her hair, pulling the chestnut mass away from her face. “I wasn’t shrieking my head off because the cupboards are in disarray!”

He nudged the handle of a cup toward the north, neatly folded his bandana and stuffed the square back in his pocket. “What’s the matter?”

Even the simple task of straightening the plates had a calming effect.

She urged him forward. “Take a look.”

The space between the workbench and the stove was narrow enough that she rested her hand on his shoulder and peered around him. The warmth of her touch seeped through his shirt and landed somewhere near his chest.

He grasped the broomstick once more and stuck the end through the oven handle. As the cast-iron door fell open, the rusted hinges squeaked. Tilly’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

Something growled.

An enormous raccoon bared its teeth.

Nolan surged backward.

Tilly shrieked. From her perch on the chair, she leaned around Nolan and kicked shut the door. “I told you something was in there.”

“You can’t just trap the animal.” He splayed his hand to hold her back. “It’ll suffocate.”

Memories settled over him like a bleak dirge. He’d once spent an entire month in isolated confinement for a minor infraction of the rules. A month in complete and utter darkness with nothing but the scuttle of rats for company. His throat tightened painfully and he searched the open shelving behind Tilly’s head. There were four plates, an even number, and the handles on the cups faced north. Restoring order forced calm. If he spun the last plate clockwise, he wouldn’t even see the chip on the edge.

Tilly’s face swam before him. “Thank you for coming to our rescue, Mr. West. That animal startled me. Not what I was expecting to find during our explorations.”

“Explorations?” he said.

“Yes. Aren’t you simply fascinated by this town? Think of all the stories people left behind. Haven’t you ever wondered about who lived here and what they dreamed about?”

Frustrated by his inability to control the actions of others, he offered a curt “No.”

“I do.”

There was a gentleness and a guileless optimism about her that had been missing from his life for a very long time. An eternity. Part of him wanted to reach for the soothing comfort of her limitless hope in the world, but any thoughts in that direction were folly. He needed the distance. Nolan tore his gaze from the vulnerability in her clear eyes and stared at the dusty shelves.

Four plates. An even number. Even numbers symbolized order. With Tilly and the girls staring at him, he couldn’t very well scrub the dusty surfaces. They’d think he’d gone mad for tidying an abandoned building. He’d wind up like his aunt Vicky, who lived near his aunt Edith in Cimarron Springs. Aunt Vicky kept fifteen goats and dressed them up on special occasions. He needed to be alone because hiding his affliction only increased his anxiety.

“I wouldn’t waste time thinking about a bunch of strangers,” he snapped. “I don’t know why you’d want to meet a bunch of fool people who built a town without checking to see if there was actually gold in the river.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” she said, a thread of hurt weaving through her voice. “Still, they must have loved adventure to go to all this trouble for a chance at gold.”

The adventure hadn’t turned out well for her brother-in-law, but Nolan doubted she’d made the connection. That was the problem with optimists. They ignored the facts that didn’t fit their rosy picture.