Deep River (Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Book 7)

by Shirleen Davies

  When he didn’t answer, Caro stepped up next to him, resisting the urge to rest her hand on his arm. “You were planning to buy it, weren’t you?”

  “No.” He moved away, needing more distance. “I think I’ll head upstairs. Seems the fireplace in the main bedroom needs some work Merritt and Gus may have missed.”

  Standing still, she let out a breath as he walked up the stairs, perhaps the only part of the house not needing repair. She knew he’d lied about not having an interest in the place. His eyes always gave him away. At least with her owning it, he could visit or come to supper whenever he wanted. If what she hoped for didn’t work out, she’d sell it to him at a price he couldn’t refuse.

  Following him, she stopped, almost laughing at the absurdity of her thoughts. He’d made it quite clear he had no intention of visiting, staying for supper, or being a presence in her life beyond what he’d already done. After today, his promises would be fulfilled. He’d go about his business and she about hers. The thought brought a painful knot to her heart.

  “I heard the news.” Rosemary Thayer’s excited voice preceded her into the clinic as Clay McCord held the front door open. “I can’t believe Rachel didn’t tell me when we worked together the other day.”

  Closing the door, Clay followed her to the back, watching as she put away her coat. “She and Ginny had just learned the news themselves the day before. How did you hear?”

  “Dirk Masters and Travis Dixon stopped at the boardinghouse for supper last night. The Pelletiers had told their ranch hands about Rachel and Ginny being pregnant. Everyone in the restaurant cheered.”

  “It is big news.” His voice sounded far from enthusiastic.

  Rosemary turned to him, her smile fading. “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s not my business what my patients decide to do.”

  She leaned against the counter, the excitement of moments ago disappearing. “You think they should have waited to tell everyone.”

  “As I said, Rosemary, it’s not my business what the Pelletiers decide to tell others.”

  “You have an opinion, though. How am I supposed to learn if you don’t tell me what you think?”

  Snatching his coat off a hook, Clay slipped it on, considering her question. “Given what happened before, it may have been wise for Luke and Ginny to wait a little while. I need to take care of some business at the bank. Will you be all right without me for a few moments?”

  “The bank is just across the street. I’ll find you if someone comes in.”

  “I won’t be gone long.”

  Hearing the door close behind him, Rosemary started going through the supply cabinet, making notes of anything they needed to order. Finishing, she rinsed out a cloth, wiping down the counters while humming to herself.

  “Doctor?”

  Tossing down the cloth, she hurried to the front, stopping when she didn’t recognize the man leaning against a wall, cradling his left arm. “May I help…” Her voice trailed off when she saw the blood. “What in the world happened?”

  “Best I recall, I was shot.” Although he swayed a little, his voice sounded steady.

  “Let’s get you in the back so I can look at it.” It wasn’t easy helping the man who towered over her, but they somehow managed. “Can you get on the table?”

  “I don’t recall being crippled, ma’am. Just shot.” He leaned against the exam table, then pushed himself onto it with his good arm. “Probably just needs cleaning.” He grimaced as she probed the wound.

  “Well, Mr….”

  “Adam Mackey, ma’am. My friends call me Mack. And you are?”

  “Rosemary Thayer.” Without asking, she gripped the sleeve of his shirt, ripping it open.

  “Hey. This is a new shirt.”

  “Then I guess you shouldn’t have gotten shot.” Concentrating on the wound, she shook her head, taking a step back. Grabbing a clean cloth, she pressed it against the wound, glancing up at Mack. “This will need sutures. I’d better get Doc McCord.”

  “Can’t you do something about it?”

  “Sorry. I’m not trained for this. He’s just over at the bank. It will only take a few minutes to get him.”

  Dashing outside, holding up her skirt, she dodged a couple wagons and several horses, doing her best to avoid the deep, water-soaked ruts in the road.

  Clay walked out of the bank, spotting her. “Rosemary. Is everything all right?”

  “A man came in with a gunshot wound.”

  “You didn’t recognize him?” He took her arm, helping her back across the street.

  “I’ve never seen him before. Introduced himself as Adam Mackey.”

  “He must be new in town.” Pushing open the clinic door, he moved aside as Rosemary walked in. “Let’s see what we can do for Mr. Mackey.”

  Chapter Seven

  Big Pine, Montana Territory

  Brushing the dirt off his coat, Dutch stomped his boots on the boardwalk, his gaze settling on a restaurant not far down the street. He needed food, a room, and to get a telegram off to headquarters.

  Taking off his hat, Dutch slapped it against his thigh, stepping through the door of the restaurant.

  “Sit down anywhere.” A woman with graying hair swept her hand toward the dining room.

  Looking around, he selected a table near the front, the dirt-encrusted window providing a peek of the street outside.

  “You have a choice of meatloaf or stew today. Both come with biscuits and coffee. What will it be?” The wafer-thin woman set a cup down, filling it with the thickest, blackest coffee Dutch had seen since the war ended.

  Lifting his brows, he glanced up at her.

  “I can make fresh if it’s too strong for you.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t bother. I’ll have the meatloaf. Jam with the biscuits.” Nodding, she left him alone.

  Taking a sip of the murky brew, he winced, forcing himself to swallow it.

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Dutch set down the cup, glancing up to see a wiry, older man with silver hair standing next to his table, a badge visible under his heavy coat.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in Big Pine.” Without invitation, he pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m Parker Sterling, the sheriff.”

  “Dutch McFarlin.”

  Parker nodded at the woman as she set a cup of coffee in front of him. “I’ve heard of you. Pinkerton Agency, right? Tom Horton, Luke Pelletier, and you helped bring in those outlaws when my deputies and me were in Moosejaw a couple years back.”

  Dutch nodded. “I had to leave before you got back.”

  “You have a reason for coming to town?”

  “On my way to Splendor. Why? Are you expecting trouble?”

  Chuckling, Parker studied his cup. “I’m always expecting trouble.”

  “Anyone specific you’re looking for?”

  The sheriff waited until Dutch’s food was placed in front of him, then sat back, not answering the question, choosing to ask his own. “You have business in Splendor?”

  “Thinking of visiting Luke. Have you been there?” Dutch dug into his food, unable to ignore the growling in his stomach any longer.

  “Nope. My job here gives me little time to travel. I know the sheriff, his deputies, and several others who come here for supplies not available in Splendor.” Parker leaned forward, settling his arms on the table. “Is your visit part of an assignment?”

  Swallowing a bite of meatloaf, Dutch forced down another sip of coffee. “It is. The information I received from my boss makes it look like a simple job.”

  Parker snorted. “There are no simple jobs this far west. I’d suggest you check with Gabe Evans, the sheriff in Splendor. He’s a good man.” Shifting his gaze out the window, his body tensed, seeing two men enter the bank across the street.

  “What is it?” Dutch followed his gaze.

  Standing, Parker kept his gaze trained outside as he pushed his coat out of the way of his gun. “Nice meeting
you, McFarlin. Come see me before you leave,” he called over his shoulder as he walked to the door.

  Dutch pushed his plate aside, tossed money on the table, then followed the sheriff outside. “What did you see?”

  “Two men I’ve never seen before walked into the bank across the street. Something about them…” His voice trailed off an instant before they heard shots coming from inside the bank. Cursing, Parker pulled out his gun, hearing women scream, seeing pedestrians scatter at the sound of more gunfire.

  “What do you want me to do?” Dutch slipped his gun from its holster and checked the cylinder.

  Focused on the bank, Parker readied to start across the street. “I’ll cover the front. You make your way around back.” As he approached, the door swung open, the two men running outside. Parker took cover behind a wagon, Dutch coming up beside him. “I thought I told you to go around back.”

  “And miss all the fun?” Dutch trained his gun on the men, both shooting wildly as they tried to make it back to their horses. “Don’t you just hate stupid men?” He fired, downing one man, then focused on the other, who’d turned to aim toward where he and Parker hid. Squeezing the trigger again, the second man screamed before collapsing to the ground.

  Parker ran toward the downed men, holding his gun steady as he nudged each. Kneeling, he checked for pulses, then stood as Dutch stopped beside him. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your shooting, McFarlin. They’re both dead.”

  He snorted. “I’m not known for wounding the men I aim at, Sheriff. Do you recognize them?”

  “Never seen either one before.”

  Holstering his gun, Dutch reached down to grab a sack of money still clutched in the hand of one man. Feeling its weight, he handed it to the sheriff. “What made you suspect them?”

  “Instincts. We’ve been expecting the Dawson gang to show up any day. You ever heard of them?”

  Dutch shook his head. “Where are they from?”

  “I don’t know for sure. They were part of another group who went after one of the deputies in Splendor. From what I know, two citizens were wounded. Afterward, Louis and Clem Dawson formed their own gang. They’ve been going after banks, rustling cattle, and stealing horses. Indications are they’re heading this way.”

  “Do you think these men worked with the Dawsons?” Dutch swiveled around, letting his gaze wander over the gathering crowd and nearby buildings. Seeing nothing, he turned back to Parker.

  “They aren’t Clem or Louis. Could be part of their gang, or raiders working on their own.”

  “Thank goodness, Sheriff.” A balding man of medium build pushed his way through the crowd, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two bodies. Pulling out a handkerchief, he patted his forehead, spotting the bag of money in Parker’s hand.

  “Put this where it will be safe, Watson.” The sheriff held the bag out to the banker, looking around. “Anyone inside the bank get shot?”

  “Two. Doc’s with them now. The wounds don’t seem too bad.” Watson looked at the dead men again. “Better than these two anyway.”

  Spotting two of his deputies, Parker motioned them over. “Jeff, I need you to get the undertaker.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jeff hurried off.

  “Gideon, check these two for anything we can use to figure out who they are.”

  The young deputy nodded, dropping to his knees to look through the clothes of the first robber. Older, with gray stubble, he had a shocked look frozen on his face.

  Wincing at the blood, Gideon checked the man’s pockets, finding some money, tobacco, and an old photograph of a woman and child. Turning it over, he saw their first names scrawled in an uneven hand, but nothing to indicate the outlaw’s name. Moving to the other body, he repeated his actions, finding a letter and pocket watch.

  “I found something, Sheriff.” He handed them to Parker, then stood to make room for the undertaker, who’d pulled his wagon to a stop.

  Parker spoke to the undertaker before reading the letter Gideon found and checking the pocket watch. Turning to Dutch, he waved the letter in his hand. “Seems we have the name of one of the robbers. Nothing about where they’re from, but at least there’s something to mark the grave. We’ll bury them next to each other. Maybe someone will come through Big Pine someday and tell us who they are.”

  “You don’t think they’re with the Dawsons, do you?” Dutch asked as the undertaker, Gideon, and Jeff loaded the bodies into the back of the wagon.

  “Wish I could believe otherwise, but no. My guess is these two were on their own.” He looked at the people still standing around. “Time to go about your business. There’s nothing more to see here.”

  Dutch pushed his hat back, scratching his forehead. “Let me know if I can do anything more. If not, I’m going to send a telegram off to my boss, then find a room.”

  “The Imperial Hotel is the best place in town.”

  “Thanks, Sheriff. I’ll stop by before I ride out tomorrow.”

  Parker held out his hand, grasping Dutch’s. “I owe you, McFarlin.”

  Releasing his hand, Dutch shook his head. “You don’t owe me a thing. Glad I could help.”

  Splendor

  “I wasn’t sure you’d gotten my telegram.” Caleb shook Mack’s hand, noting his bandaged left shoulder. “What the hell happened to you?” He indicated for Mack to sit in one of the empty chairs inside the jail.

  Mack shook his head as he sat down. “Damned if I know. I was about two hours away from Splendor when someone took a shot at me. Next thing I know, I’m waking up on the ground, my shoulder on fire, my horse twenty feet away. As far as I can tell, whoever shot me didn’t take anything. Left a hole in my shoulder and rode off.” Anger and confusion laced his words.

  “Nothing missing?”

  “Nope, and I didn’t see any tracks indicating they’d checked on me. It was almost as if they were using me for target practice.”

  Cash and Beau came in from outside, bantering back and forth, stopping when they saw Caleb talking to a man neither recognized.

  “Cash, Beau, this is Adam Mackey. He served with me under Gabe. Mack, these are the other two deputies, Cash Coulter and Beau Davis.”

  “Call me Mack.” He stood, shaking each offered hand

  Beau walked over to the stove and filled a cup with coffee. “Help yourself, Mack. What happened to your arm?”

  “Got shot on the trail from Big Pine.”

  Beau shared a look with Cash. “Did you see them?”

  “No.” Mack repeated what he’d told Caleb.

  Beau glanced at Cash. “Do you think it could be the Dawsons?”

  Cash shook his head. “From what Sheriff Sterling said, they’re rustling cattle and robbing banks. Doesn’t seem they’d shoot someone without trying to rob him.”

  “They’re the same ones who shot Noah and Bull,” Beau reminded him.

  Cash poured himself a cup of coffee. “That was on orders from the Pendervilles. Still, I guess anything is possible. What brings you to Splendor, Mack?”

  “I got a telegram from Caleb after he received Gabe’s message.” Mack shifted in his chair, resting his right arm over the back of it. “He mentioned the colonel needed two men, and I’d been considering a change.”

  Beau leaned his hip against the edge of the desk. “What were you doing before?”

  “I was a deputy in Kansas City, Missouri. I’d already made the decision to quit and join Caleb as a Texas Ranger. Then I got his telegram.”

  The door banged open, Gabe entering, an irritated expression on his face. “What the…”

  Mack stood, holding out his hand. “Colonel. It’s good to see you again.”

  The scowl on Gabe’s face turned into a broad smile as he grasped the outstretched hand. “Adam Mackey. Caleb said you might join us, but I didn’t quite believe it.” Shrugging out of his coat, he slipped it onto a hook, then turned back to Mack. “That why you’re here?”

  “Yes, sir. Assuming you’re still in n
eed of another deputy.”

  “Consider yourself hired.” Gabe took a seat behind the desk, leaning forward. “What happened to your arm?”

  Mack explained what he remembered, watching as Gabe’s eyes narrowed to slits.

  “You said it happened about two hours east of here?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Gabe stood, grabbing his coat. “I’m going to send a telegram to Sheriff Sterling, warn him about what happened. Could be just some drunken cowhands or a stray bullet.”

  Cash shook his head. “You don’t believe that, do you, Gabe?”

  “No. I don’t know what happened, but I plan to find out.”

  “You’ll join us at Suzanne’s for supper tonight, won’t you, Caro?” Isabella smoothed her hand over a bolt of fine fabric in Allie Coulter’s shop.

  “I don’t know. You and Travis have so little time together. I hate to intrude.” Caro stepped next to Isabella. “I believe you should purchase a piece of this beautiful brocade. The color is perfect for you.”

  Isabella smiled. “You’re trying to change the subject. Travis plans for us to be there at five o’clock, and I expect you to join us.” She turned to Allie standing at the counter, finishing with another customer. “Allie, I believe I need some of this brocade.”

  Allie walked over to the table, picking up the roll of fabric “Of course you do, Isabella. Do you want me to sew you a dress out of it?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Setting the roll down on a table, she measured a length, then looked up. “I have the perfect pattern in mind. Travis won’t be able to keep his hands to himself.”

  Isabella’s eyes danced with laughter. “You shouldn’t be saying such things, Allie.”

  “I don’t know why not. We all know how he feels about you. Why he hasn’t asked you to marry him is a mystery to me.” Allie crossed her arms, her gaze shifting to Caro. “I do believe you need a new dress, too. One that will make Beau realize the real reason you came back to Splendor.”

  Caro’s mouth opened, then closed, her face flushing. There’d be no point in denying what Allie meant. She let out a sigh before raising her chin. “Beau isn’t interested in me any longer.”