Redemption's Edge: Book 1, Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance

by Shirleen Davies

  “I could borrow a horse and get it back to you later.” Rachel shifted to her side in an attempt to create more space.

  “No. I’ll take you back.” Dax didn’t say how much he looked forward to riding back with her sitting in front of him on Hannibal. He’d been thinking about it the entire time he’d watched her sleep, thinking about slipping his arm around her waist and holding her tight against his chest as they rode back to Splendor.

  Not that anything would ever come of it. He and Luke planned to stay a few weeks, get an understanding of the value, then put the ranch up for sale. Neither had a desire to be tied to a place in the northern reaches of the country, no matter how beautiful or tempting the majestic scenery or the woman who sat next to him. Someday, he might regret the decision. For now, it wasn’t a part of his future.

  “Tell me about Splendor.” Dax did have an interest in learning more about the town. However, what he needed now was to hear her voice.

  Rachel relaxed and leaned back in her chair. “Well, let’s see. It’s a wonderful town. Everyone is friendly and obliging, always offering what they can to help out a neighbor. About anything you need is available. Not extravagances, you understand, but the basics. I sometimes miss the type of merchandise available in Boston, but not often.” She paused a moment and closed her eyes. “Reverend Paige and his wife are perhaps the nicest people I’ve ever met. They have this…I don’t know…welcoming way about them. Everyone is accepted at their church.”

  Dax followed her lead and closed his eyes. “So tell me what you don’t like about it.”

  “Dust storms, although there’s been just one since I’ve been here. Apparently, they rise up in minutes and, before you know it, you can’t see three feet in front of you. A slight one blew through town the day you and your brother arrived, but they get much worse. When the storm blows through, it leaves grit and dirt everywhere.”

  They sat a moment in relaxed silence. Dax could hear her soft breathing and wondered if she’d fallen asleep.

  “The sunrises and sunsets.”

  “What?” Dax asked, his brows drawing together in a confused frown.

  “I love the way the sun peeks up over the eastern mountains and cloaks the town in a soft, yet brilliant light. At sunset, the sky can turn the most amazing shades of pink, orange, yellow, and violet. I’ve never seen anything like it. It truly takes your breath away.”

  He glanced over to see her smiling as if she were picturing the scene she’d described.

  “You’ll stay then?”

  “For a while, at least. I’ve been here since early fall, so not quite a year. According to the people who’ve been here the longest, the winters are the worst and I’ve lived through one already.”

  “Was it bad?” Dax had fought through harsh winters during the war and never imagined ever living through them again.

  She chuckled. “If you consider snow storms that last a week, leaving mountains of snow behind then, yes, it was a challenge. At the same time, it was exhilarating in a way I can’t describe.”

  Dax let her voice wash over him. Something about the tone and intensity worked on his senses, causing his body to respond. He shifted in his chair, attempting to hide his body’s reaction.

  “When the snow melts, the grasslands turn an almost translucent green. The countryside is thick and lush. I’d run my hands over it, marveling at the silky feel.” She ran a hand along the arm of her chair in a slow movement, almost stroking it.

  Dax watched her hand travel along the wood of the chair, caressing it, and let out a groan.

  “Are you all right?” Rachel gazed over at him.

  He cleared his throat and stood. “Yes. I guess I’d better see how Luke’s doing in the kitchen.”

  “He’s fixing supper?”

  “Let’s say he’s heating up some stew from last night and attempting to make biscuits. I’d suggest you do your best to ignore the results.” He held out a hand to help her up, taking a moment before letting it go.

  Supper didn’t take long. Leftover stew, biscuits, and coffee, but Dax couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Strands of her lush, auburn-colored hair had escaped the bun, framing her face. Her hazel green eyes flashed with warmth, irritation, or amusement, and he wanted to learn what triggered all of those responses. He found he wanted to learn everything about her.

  “Luke, you did a mighty fine job with those biscuits.” Bernice picked up the plates and started for the kitchen.

  “Uh…thank you, ma’am.” He knew they were passable, but not much more.

  “Let me help you, Mrs. Wilson.” Rachel reached for the empty stew bowl.

  “Nope. You’ve done enough, and I appreciate it.”

  “She’s right. It would be best to get started back.” Dax grabbed his gun belt and strapped it around his waist, adjusting it low on his hips. He pulled on a worn great coat. “I’ll get my horse.”

  The ride back to town took longer with Dax keeping a steady pace, and not the full-out run as when she rode behind Bull. She sat in front, nestled between his thighs, one of his arms wrapped around her waist. The sensations she felt as his body moved against hers had Rachel playing word games, trying to think of anything except the hard-bodied, rugged man who held her close.

  “Relax, Rachel. If you don’t, you’ll be sore tomorrow.” His whispered words did nothing to stem the growing agitation at being this close to him.

  She took a deep breath and tried to relax her muscles, letting her back rest against his chest.

  “That’s it.” His breath washed against her neck, sending shivers up and down her spine.

  Within minutes of getting on the horse, Dax regretted the decision to ride back with her. He should’ve taken her back in the wagon, let her sit a foot away. Or, even better, asked one of the ranch hands to take her home. He had no business being this close to someone like Rachel, especially with his growing attraction to her. When the war ended, he’d made up his mind not to get attached to any one place or woman for a long time, perhaps ever. Rachel posed a threat to his resolve.

  She remained a mystery. Her sophisticated ways and upbringing hid a strength he found fascinating. Everything he discovered about Rachel made her more desirable. No matter her beauty, the grit she’d developed during the war, what he’d seen her do today, or his strong attraction to her, he had to hold himself in check.

  Although she hadn’t spoken much while working on Hank, Dax had learned they’d both grown up attending fancy balls, eating fine food, and enjoying undisputed social standing, where who they married meant more than emotions or love. None of those meant anything to him now. He had yet to figure out what did matter. Even as those thoughts rolled around in his head, he could feel his arm tighten around Rachel, pulling her closer, inhaling the rose scent of her hair.

  “Will you keep the ranch?” Rachel felt his arm contract and fought for breath. Not because he held her too snug. The sensations came from the incessant pounding of her heart, the tightening in her chest, and the feel of his body aligned with hers.

  He didn’t want to answer questions about the ranch. Each answer would lead to another question, then one more.

  “We’ll stay a while, then decide.”

  “Do you have family in Texas?”

  “No, we’re from Savannah. Luke and I moved to Austin after the war. That’s when we took jobs as Rangers.” He willed himself to focus on the road ahead and not the feel of her nestled close. “We wouldn’t have come up here if it hadn’t been for Pat’s request.”

  She settled a hand on top of his and squeezed lightly, thinking how lucky Mr. Hanes had been to have selected the Pelletiers as friends.

  Dax stifled a groan at the feel of her hand on his.

  He rounded the last bend to see lights from a few kerosene lamps still burning inside various buildings. The clinic stood near the center of town, the livery and school at the north end, and the church at the south end. In between stood the Wild Rose Saloon—or the Rose, as locals call
ed it—the general store, boardinghouse and restaurant, barber shop, bank, land office, gunsmith, jail, Western Union, and stage office.

  Dax stopped Hannibal in front of the clinic. He didn’t release Rachel right away. Instead, he pulled her close once more, then reluctantly let go and slid to the ground.

  “I’ll help you. Swing one leg over the horn.” He lifted his arms and grabbed Rachel around the waist, slowly lowering her and letting his eyes lock on hers, the steel color having turned a stormy, dark gray.

  She gazed up at him, her hands resting on his arms, and made no move to back away. The invitation he saw both warned and encouraged him.

  “I’m not certain how long we’ll be in Splendor, but I’d like to call on you, if you’d allow me to, Rachel.” He closed his eyes, surprised that he’d voiced what he wanted, knowing he had no business showing an interest in her.

  She’d wanted him to ask, yet hadn’t allowed herself to hope. “I’d like that, Dax.”

  He continued to stare into her luminous eyes, wanting nothing more than to capture her lips with his. She didn’t move or turn away, continuing to hold his gaze. He bent lower before a gruff cough from behind drew his attention.

  Dax let his hands drop from her waist and stepped away before turning to see Doc Worthington in the doorway. He cleared his throat. “Good evening, Doc.”

  “Mr. Pelletier.” He looked around him at Rachel. “I wondered what happened to you. How’s Hank Wilson?”

  Rachel tried to control her breathing as well as her pounding heart. “Mr. Wilson is doing fine. The bullet didn’t do as much damage as I’d first thought. I took it out and he should make it, if the wound doesn’t become infected.”

  The calm tone of her voice surprised Rachel. Her insides were anything but still, her heart continuing to race from the brief contact with Dax. If her uncle hadn’t interrupted, she felt certain he might have kissed her. The disappointment surprised her. Her rational mind told her she hardly knew him, the attraction toward him too new. So much about what she felt stunned and confused her.

  “King Tolbert stopped by to see you.”

  “He did? I wonder…” Her voice trailed off when she remembered the invitation.

  “I guess you were supposed have supper with him tonight.” Her uncle’s eyes narrowed at her, disappointment clear on his face.

  Dax stepped away, saying nothing. He hadn’t thought about Rachel being courted by anyone else. The knowledge affected him more than he’d have thought, especially the name of the suitor—King Tolbert, the man most on the ranch suspected of ordering Drake to shoot Hank.

  “Well, I should be leaving.”

  Rachel watched Dax swing up on his horse in a movement so smooth, it seemed as if he’d done it a thousand times before which, of course, he had.

  “Mr. Pelletier…wait.” Rachel hurried to the horse’s side and looked up to see the same stormy gray eyes trained on her. “Thank you for bringing me home. I appreciate it.”

  “No problem, ma’am. You did a real good job on Hank. I’m the one who’s grateful to you.” He looked at Worthington and touched the brim of his hat. “Doc.”

  Dax rode off, knowing he’d been saved from doing something stupid. If Worthington hadn’t appeared, he would’ve had Rachel in his arms within seconds, keeping her there as long as she would have let him. It didn’t matter. She had an interest in Tolbert, and Dax had no place in his life for a small town Montana nurse, no matter how much he felt otherwise. The solitary ride back took much longer than the ride with Rachel. He pulled the great coat around him, settled his hat further down on his head, and ignored the tight feeling in his chest.

  Chapter Five

  “Who else could it be except Tolbert?” Bull Mason grumbled as he sat whittling a piece of wood. “That man’s been after Pat’s land for years. Hell, we’ve spent more time fighting his men than growing the herd. Someone needs to set him straight.”

  “How many acres you think he’s got now?” Joe, the newest ranch hand, asked as he sipped his evening coffee.

  “Maybe a couple thousand more than here.” Ellis threw out the last of the grounds and rinsed the coffee pot with water. “No one seems to know for sure.”

  “He runs more head and has double the number of men.” Rudolph, or Rude as he preferred to be called, had been on the ranch as long as Hank and Bernice. He’d met Pat when he’d first arrived in Splendor and liked the man right away.

  Dax and Luke leaned against the wall of the porch and listened to the conversation. They’d learned quite a bit about four of the ranch hands in the last few days. There’d been little time to get to know the others who sat with them, relaxing.

  Bull and Ellis had fought for the North during the war, both mustering out in 1863. Neither Rude, the oldest, nor Joe, the youngest, had fought, both already settled in Montana when the war broke out. If they had fought, their sentiments were clear. Neither agreed with the South’s determination to secede, splitting the country in two, yet no one voiced a word against Dax or Luke. They’d seen how the general, as they’d started to call him, had insulted Drake and stood his ground, Luke right alongside him. Their respect for the two had grown, even as their sentiments against the war stayed intact.

  “What are we going to do, General?” Bull asked, not looking up from his whittling. “We can’t let Tolbert get away with this.”

  “I don’t have a good answer for you. I will say, whoever shot Hank won’t go unpunished.”

  “What do you want us to do in the meantime?” Ellis crossed his arms and leaned against the porch. Of all the men, he found it hardest to shift his allegiance from Pat to the Pelletier brothers, but Dax sensed that once they’d won his trust, he’d be a strong ally.

  “Luke and I will be going to town tomorrow for more men. Joe, you’ll stay here to watch the place while the others join the rest of the men, round up the herd, and bring them closer to the house.”

  “We won’t be able to graze them all close in for long.” Bull stood and shoved his hands in his pockets.

  “More men would allow us to split the heard into smaller groups and keep them close.” Luke spoke more to Dax than the others. The plan wasn’t much different from guarding prisoners during the war.

  “Bring them in tomorrow. We’ll split the herd into small numbers as we hire more men. Ellis, you’ll ramrod tomorrow.” Dax straightened his tall frame. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

  Luke followed him inside. “You think Ellis is the right choice? Seems Bull might be a better pick.”

  “You’re right, but Ellis is the one doing the grumbling. Besides Rude and Hank, he’s been here the longest. I want to see how he handles the others. By tomorrow afternoon, we’ll know how he does and perhaps more about how far we can trust him.”

  “Do you have any idea who may have shot Wilson?” King Tolbert asked as Drake relayed the news one of the men had heard about the Pelletier foreman.

  “Nope. Could’ve been anyone.”

  King Tolbert sat behind his desk, deciding how to handle the new owners of the Hanes ranch. He thought he had plenty of time. The sudden death of Pat Hanes changed things, as did the unexpected passing of the land into someone else’s hands. He’d thought the property would go up for auction, which would mean a cheap price compared to what Hanes had paid for each parcel.

  It still burned how the absentee landowner had been able to steal property out from under him. King lived in the valley, knew everyone, yet each time a rancher had trouble, they reached out to Pat through Hank Wilson. Never had anyone contacted him. Those sales had allowed the Texas Ranger to build a ranch into something to rival his own holdings.

  From what Drake had told him, the Pelletiers came from old southern money. Drake didn’t appear to fear the two brothers, but King could sense the caution in his man when he spoke of them. One, an ex-general. The other, an ex-major. Drake said he knew Dax better, having served under him. He knew less of the younger one, but he heard stories from others. Both had superio
r fighting skills, although Dax made more calculated moves, while Luke tended to be somewhat brash in his actions. Drake warned King that both had reputations for never giving ground. Well, Tolbert would see about that.

  “The new owners won’t take kindly to their man being shot, And no matter who pulled the trigger, they’ll look to me. What else have you heard?”

  “The Pelletiers plan to ride into town this morning to hire more men. They’ve got the others bringing in the herd, circling them close.” It had been a good move to insert one of their men into the Pelletier ranch. They’d learned much over the last few months.

  “That’s good. Means they’re scared.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it, boss. Those two just don’t give up. I’m thinking their plan is to grow the herd, maybe get the place ready to sell. A few hundred more head of cattle and more men would challenge what you have. Some Englishman with money could swoop in and snap up that property real quick if they plan it right. They’ve still got property in Savannah, and jobs in Texas. Why would those two want to stay here? No, I think they’ll get the best price they can for the place and move on.”

  King listened to Drake’s comments, not sure he bought into them. He felt certain once they learned the true potential of the land, they might make the decision to stay and build up the ranch. It would be, in King’s mind, an unwise decision if that’s what they did. He wouldn’t tolerate anyone else taking more land from him or keeping what he felt should rightfully be his. They weren’t ranchers—hell, from what he’d learned, they didn’t know the first thing about the cattle business.

  “How many men are they after?”

  “Don’t know for certain. My guess is at least a half-dozen.”