last plan got us locked up in jail for fourteen months. I’m not swinging from a noose because you can’t hold your temper.”
The two men measured each other in silence, one deadly calm and sure, the other seething with barely concealed rage. Finally, muttering a vile imprecation, Charlie spun on his heel and stalked toward the partially closed door. The outlaw lifted his heel to kick the door, but the panel swung open before his boot made contact. The shock threw him off balance and he stumbled forward.
Tilly dodged his clumsy fall as she entered the room. Her face carefully impassive, she skirted past the prone man.
Charlie muttered another sharp curse, and Snyder chortled.
Dakota Red scowled at Snyder. “Don’t rile him up. He’s liable to shoot you, and I need a third man for this job.”
The humiliated outlaw sprang to his feet and slapped his hat against his thigh.
Nolan frantically searched Tilly’s face for any sign she’d had success in retrieving the gun, but he couldn’t read her expression. She’d pinned her hair in place once more, appearing cool and composed. Only someone looking closely would see the way she clutched her fingers together, hiding the fact that she was visibly shaking. Apprehension crawled up his nerves. He’d try again for the gun later. Snyder must have forgotten he hadn’t searched the room, because he didn’t show any sign of moving from his perch at the table.
Tilly took in the tension flickering between the three outlaws and scooted nearer to Nolan. “I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Aware the outlaws were monitoring their every move, he draped his hand around her waist and drew her near. She offered a stiff smile that might have passed as a grimace. Neither of them was particularly comfortable with the ruse, but until he thought of a better plan, they were trapped in the deception. The irony didn’t escape him. He was an unlikely suitor even before the war. Women had mostly left him stammering and bashful.
Others in the prisoner camp had anxiously awaited letters from home, but his mother had died and his father didn’t write well.
The perfumed letters caused the most ribbing amongst the men. Yet there was a melancholy edge in the prisoners’ good-natured teasing. At the time, Nolan had been grateful he didn’t have a sweetheart waiting for him. Anticipating the letters was agony, and receiving a missive was joy tempered with the sure knowledge of everything the men were missing. They were supposed to be grateful they were alive, and he was—other men perished by the hundreds each day. Except balancing on the cusp of living was its own torture.
Tilly slipped from his hold and patted his cheek, then ducked into the kitchen once more. Nolan touched the spot her hand had caressed. A simple gesture, the casual affection of husband and wife. He’d best follow her lead and stay on his toes, no matter how unnatural the actions.
As she sliced the loaf of bread he’d left on the counter, Nolan finished setting the table for the outlaws.
“Ain’t you setting a place for yourselves?” Dakota Red inquired from his sprawl.
“We’ll wait until you’re finished,” Tilly replied, her voice clipped. “The girls, remember.”
“Ah, yes. Them girls who can’t keep secrets.”
She finished slicing the bread and carried the board to the table. Once she’d returned to the kitchen, she rinsed her hands and draped the towel haphazardly over the counter. Nolan automatically lifted the discarded item.
Tilly glared at him.
He glanced down.
She’d been covering the knife she’d used to slice the bread.
His ears burned.
He folded the towel in fours and rested the neat square over the knife once more.
She reached for the leather handle of the water bucket. “I’ll be right back.”
As she passed before the table, Charlie stuck out his booted foot and caught her ankles. She pitched forward and landed hard on her knees. The bucket shot from her hands and something skittered across the floor.
Rage surging through his veins, Nolan automatically reached for Tilly. Snyder squeezed his throat, holding him back.
“Well, well, well.” Dakota Red stood slowly and crossed the room. “What do we have here?” He lifted the object from the floor, and the metal barrel of a gun glinted in the light of the kerosene lantern. “You’re full of surprises, ma’am.”
* * *
Tears of frustration sprang in Tilly’s eyes, as much from the pain of falling as in losing the gun. They’d been watching her so closely, she’d thought she’d have a better chance of hiding the weapon outside. She hadn’t counted on the outlaws’ cruelty.
Charlie hooked his arm beneath her shoulder and hauled her upright. She cringed from the steely look in his close-set eyes, and braced for a cuffing.
“Teach him a lesson,” Dakota Red declared.
“Him?” Tilly’s eyes flew open.
The outlaw smirked. “Well, I can’t hit a woman now, can I?”
Charlie wrapped Nolan’s arm behind his back, and Snyder pounded him in the gut with a burly fist. Nolan paled and went to his knees.
The outlaw released her and Tilly rushed to his side.
Charlie grinned. “I knew you’d try something. Got anything else you’d like to tell us?”
He reached for Nolan and Tilly put her body between the outlaw and the prone man. “Nothing. That was the only gun.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“I don’t care what you believe.”
She reached for Nolan.
“I’m all right,” he said, his voice strained.
He didn’t appear fine as he staggered upright. His complexion was ashen, and his face was contorted in a grimace of pain.
Nolan declined her proffered hand. “I don’t need your help.”
Her fingers trembled. He might not need her help, but she needed his...desperately. The only other time she’d traveled outside of Omaha had been for Walter’s funeral, and she’d had the guidance of her father. She’d thought Omaha slightly wild when compared to cities she’d read about back east. The gold-rush town of Virginia City had shattered her naive belief. She’d been shocked by the rough conditions and the hordes of dirt-covered men desperate for gold.
Eleanor had never voiced concerns over her living conditions, and Tilly hadn’t pressed her sister. Being surrounded by these hardened men gave her new insight into Eleanor’s challenges. Why hadn’t her sister ever confided in her?
“Girlie!” Dakota Red shouted, a malicious grin slashing his craggy face. “The fellows and I have a powerful hunger. Fetch them vittles.”
A
