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

  Other Books by Shirleen Davies

  Historical Western Romance Series

  MacLarens of Fire Mountain

  Tougher than the Rest, Book One

  Faster than the Rest, Book Two

  Harder than the Rest, Book Three

  Stronger than the Rest, Book Four

  Deadlier than the Rest, Book Five

  Wilder than the Rest, Book Six

  Redemption Mountain

  Redemption’s Edge, Book One

  Wildfire Creek, Book Two, Releasing Winter 2015

  MacLarens of Boundary Mountain

  Colin’s Quest, Book One

  Coming in 2015

  Contemporary Romance Series

  MacLarens of Fire Mountain

  Second Summer, Book One

  Hard Landing, Book Two

  One More Day, Book Three

  All Your Nights, Book Four, Releasing Fall 2014

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  Redemption’s Edge

  Redemption Mountain

  Historical Western Romance Series

  SHIRLEEN DAVIES

  Book One in the Redemption Mountain

  Historical Western Romance Series

  Copyright © 2014 by Shirleen Davies

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For permission requests, contact the publisher.

  Avalanche Ranch Press, LLC

  PO Box 12618

  Prescott, AZ 86304

  Redemption’s Edge is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used facetiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  Book design and conversions by Joseph Murray at

  3rdplanetpublishing.com

  Cover design by The Killion Group

  ISBN: 978-1-941786-07-9

  Description

  Redemption’s Edge – Book One

  Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Series

  “A heartwarming, passionate story of loss, forgiveness, and redemption set in the untamed frontier during the tumultuous years following the Civil War. Ms. Davies’ engaging and complex characters draw you in from the start, creating an exciting introduction to this new historical western romance series.”

  “Redemption’s Edge is a strong and engaging introduction to her new historical western romance series.”

  Dax Pelletier is ready for a new life, far away from the one he left behind in Savannah following the South’s devastating defeat in the Civil War. The ex-Confederate general wants nothing more to do with commanding men and confronting the tough truths of leadership.

  Rachel Davenport possesses skills unlike those of her Boston socialite peers—skills honed as a nurse in field hospitals during the Civil War. Eschewing her northeastern suitors and changed by the carnage she’s seen, Rachel decides to accept her uncle’s invitation to assist him at his clinic in the dangerous and wild frontier of Montana.

  Now a Texas Ranger, a promise to a friend takes Dax and his brother, Luke, to the untamed territory of Montana. He’ll fulfill his oath and return to Austin, at least that’s what he believes.

  The small town of Splendor is what Rachel needs after life in a large city. In a few short months, she’s grown to love the people as well as the majestic beauty of the untamed frontier. She’s settled into a life unlike any she has ever thought possible.

  Thinking his battle days are over, he now faces dangers of a different kind—one by those from his past who seek vengeance, and another from Rachel, the woman who’s captured his heart.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my dearest friends, Joe and Rayma-Lew. I hope you already know how much your friendship and love mean to me.

  Acknowledgements

  Thanks also to my editor, Kim Young, proofreader, Sue Hutchens, and all of my beta readers. Their insights and suggestions are greatly appreciated.

  As always, many thanks to my wonderful resources, including Diane Lebow, who has been a whiz at guiding my social media endeavors, my cover designer, Kim Killion, and Joseph Murray who is a whiz at formatting my books for both print and electronic versions.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Books by Shirleen Davies

  Redemption’s Edge

  Prologue

  May, 1865

  Persistent, thundering explosions enveloped the area in an unending drumming that caused otherwise courageous men to cover their ears and recoil on the ground. Bullets whizzed past as twelve pound cannonballs exploded all around them, shattering everything and everyone in their path.

  The incessant screams of those injured and dying intermingled with the shouts of officers who tried in vain to rally their men for a counterattack. The dark night sky became the backdrop for brilliant flashes of white and orange, which turned red as the smoke wafted upwards, choking the air and reducing visibility to a few short yards.

  The general controlled his horse with expert movements, while commanding those around him with stern, calm orders that belied his inner turmoil. His aide, a man two years younger, screamed, then fell from his horse, grasping his chest as blood soaked through his clothes.

  He had no time to stop and help the wounded soldier as others looked to him for a miracle he knew didn’t exist. Outnumbered and outgunned, his troops, although brave and battle seasoned, were no match for the onslaught before them.

  “Retreat!” His command rang out over the gunfire a moment before an explosion rocked the ground in front of him. He worked to control his horse, and almost succeeded—until a second explosion crushed everything in sight. The stallion bucked, panic overshadowing the general’s skill at directing the fifteen hundred pound animal. A third volley sent dirt, rock, and shrapnel in all directions.

  Blood stained everything in sight. A thunderous war cry left the general’s lips. His body thrashed as his weight tilted and his arms flailed in midair. He reached up, hands grasping for purpose, yet found nothing except open air.

  “General Pelletier, wake up.” The major’s hands gentled on the general’s body as the convulsions subsided. The thrashing stopped and the general’s eyes opened to a sliver of daylight penetrating the slim opening in the tent.

  “You’ve had another dream, sir.”

  Pell
etier remained motionless a moment, focusing on his aide, the man who’d died in his dream, then drew in a shaky breath as he pushed himself up.

  “How long this time?” He scrubbed a hand over his face and walked to a small table holding a metal bowl and pitcher.

  “A couple of minutes. Not long.” The major held out a towel as the general splashed water on his face and neck, letting it drip onto his sweat-soaked shirt.

  Brigadier General Dax Pelletier slipped into a clean shirt, tucked it into his pants, then pulled on the well-worn boots he favored. As he accepted the belt and sword his aide offered, a shout came from outside the tent.

  The major stepped into the sunlight and up to a young officer who stood at attention, holding the reins to his horse in one hand and a message in the other.

  “I’m looking for General Pelletier.”

  “I’m his aide. I’ll be sure the general gets it.” He took the message and looked at the man before him, who couldn’t be more than eighteen years old. “Go get yourself some food—and some sleep.”

  He returned to the tent. “A message for you, sir.”

  Dax opened and scanned the note, disbelief crossing his face. He glanced at his aide, then back at the words on paper. “Did you read this?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Lee surrendered to Grant at Appomattox. The war’s over.”

  Chapter One

  Boston, July 1865

  “I don’t understand why you can’t at least meet the young man. He’s from an excellent family.”

  “I’m sure he is, Mother.”

  Rachel Davenport continued to fold and stack clothes into a large trunk. Two others were already filled and waiting in the corner of her bedroom.

  “Perhaps you won’t feel compelled to follow your uncle west if you meet the right man.” Harriet Davenport clenched a handkerchief while watching her daughter clean out the wardrobe she’d been given as a young woman, before she’d grown up and volunteered to help all those injured men during the war.

  Rachel closed the trunk and hung her head, biting her lower lip as she tried to come up with the best way to express herself. No matter how she phrased it, she knew her mother would never understand her need to leave Boston, the life for which she’d been bred, and the comforts her family’s wealth offered. Rachel glanced around the room, remembering a wonderful childhood and loving family, and wondered why she couldn’t do as her mother asked—marry, have children, and settle into a comfortable existence as a well-kept wife.

  “I know my decision is a disappointment to you and Father.” She stood and walked to the window overlooking the rose garden her mother so carefully tended. “This is no longer the life I want. I have skills most women don’t and we both know I’ll never be hired in Boston, not with our name and status. Besides, this isn’t where I’m needed.” She turned to face her mother. “Uncle Charles has offered me a position in his clinic, a place where my skills will prove useful.”

  “My God, Rachel, it’s in the Montana Territory. Think about what it will be like—the hardships and isolation.”

  “It will be no worse than what I’ve already seen.”

  “Damn that war,” her mother muttered. “You should never have been involved, working with the injured soldiers, witnessing things…” Her already thin voice trailed off as if she, too, could visualize the carnage her daughter had seen.

  Rachel stood and walked toward her mother, grasping her hands, searching the eyes of a woman she loved more than she could express. “Please try to understand. This is something I have to do. Uncle Charles needs someone and I’m the best person to go.” She dropped her mother’s hands and stepped back. “Besides, I may get out there, stay a few months, and find I do miss my life here in Boston.”

  “Or get yourself kidnapped by those savages your uncle treats. Then we’ll never see you again.”

  “Mother, you know that’s not at all true. Where have you heard such things?”

  “I’ve read about them.” Her indignant response accompanied the defensive tilt of her head.

  “In what? Those dime novels your sister gives you?” A smile drifted across Rachel’s face at the thought of her mother curled up in the drawing room, reading about outlaws, cowboys, and Indians.

  “Well, they’re written by people who’ve been there, so they should know.” The annoyed reply almost made Rachel laugh.

  “That could be, although Uncle Charles has yet to mention anything more disturbing than ranch hands getting drunk and shooting up the town on a Saturday night.” She grabbed her shawl and took her mother’s arm. “I leave in two days. Let’s try to have a good time until then. Please. I don’t want to waste another minute arguing about a decision that’s already been made.”

  Savannah, Georgia, July 1865

  Dax stood at the entrance to what used to be his home. It had once been a large, imposing, two-story house on several acres at the edge of Savannah, over a mile from the waterfront where the family kept their shipping fleet. A fleet Sherman’s troops decimated during their siege a few months before.

  Atlanta fell, and Savannah followed four months later. The massive devastation of both cities crushed both military and civilian morale. When Dax looked away from his home toward the center of the city, the scenery changed little—burned buildings, blocks leveled by Union artillery, starved citizens scavenging for food, and heartbreaking despair. The two great battles during the last months of 1864 signaled the eventual end to the Confederacy’s fight.

  He walked around the rubble to the back, stepping over the charred remains of furniture that had been in his family for several generations—a family of fur traders who’d become merchants and prosperous seamen, transporting goods between U.S. cities and European ports. Little remained. Everything of value had been taken, and all else burned.

  Dax opened the gate into the family cemetery and knelt beside his mother’s grave. She’d died within months of Dax enlisting in the Confederacy at the start of the war. His younger brother, Luke, enlisted a year later, leaving their youngest brother, André, to help their father run the business and the home. André had died of pneumonia the previous summer, followed by their father within months. Only Dax and Luke remained. Dax sat back on his heels, idly picking out grass around the cross-shaped marker and trying to accept the loss of so many.

  “I promise, Mother. I’ll find Luke. If he’s alive, I’ll find him,” Dax whispered.

  “You won’t need to go far.”

  Dax twisted at the sound of the familiar voice behind him and jumped to his feet.

  “Luke.” His voice sounded husky with emotion as he enveloped his brother in a bear hug, then stepped back to let his eyes wander over the man he hadn’t seen in almost three years. The youthful features replaced by those burdened by the sight of too much death. Eyes that once sparkled with mischief were now flat and hard.

  “In the flesh.”

  “And that?” Dax nodded toward the cane Luke held in his left hand.

  “A shot to the leg. It’s almost healed. I returned home in March to recuperate and found this.” His arm swept over the devastation. “The neighbors, those who are left, told me of father and André. I hadn’t heard.”

  Dax clasped Luke on the shoulder, pain for all they’d lost consuming him. He had little stomach for rebuilding a new life at the source of his greatest loss. As the oldest surviving son, he knew his responsibilities now included Luke, no matter that this brother was a seasoned twenty-five-year-old ex-major.

  Dax strode to one of the stacks of rubble, picked up a broken piece of china, then threw it back onto the pile. “Where are you staying?”

  “With the Yanceys.”

  Dax cast a knowing look at Luke. “So you’ll finally succumb to Violet’s charms and marry her?” Perhaps it would be for the best if Luke settled down and began a family.

  “Violet? No, Dax. I have no plans to marry. And even if I did, she’s not the one I’d choose.”

  They walked to the
front, Luke climbing into the carriage he borrowed from the elder Yancey, while Dax mounted Hannibal, the imposing stallion who’d seen him through the war and saved his life on numerous occasions.

  “You will stay with me. The Yanceys will be glad to have you, and it will give us a chance to talk of the future.” Luke tapped the horses.

  Dax rode alongside, unsure how to explain to Luke he had no plans to stay and rebuild what they’d lost. He’d deed his portion of the land to his brother, then set out to find a new life elsewhere, where the skills he’d acquired during the war would be useful. Luke reveled in the social life of a large city, while Dax had preferred to spend his time at the docks, captaining the family ships and expanding their holdings.

  The war had changed more than the landscape. Sometime over the long years of battle, Dax had lost his consuming drive to achieve, build the most prosperous shipping fleet in Savannah and help lead Georgia to the glory he felt it deserved—the showplace of the South.

  For now, he’d enjoy Luke’s company and the hospitality the Yancey’s offered. He wouldn’t wait long—a week, maybe two—then he’d tell Luke of his decision to leave Savannah forever.

  “You’re sure of this, Rachel? It’s not too late to change your mind and stay here in Boston. I’m certain Charles will understand.” Rachel’s father, James Davenport, gripped his daughter’s last piece of luggage, a satchel she’d keep by her side during the long trip. It held money, two changes of clothes, sundries, a couple of books, and her diary. His voice shook, indicating the depth of his emotions at losing his daughter a second time—once to the war, and now to the western frontier.

  Rachel turned to him with the warm smile he’d become used to seeing over the last two months. Today, however, it didn’t exhibit its usual glow. Sadness rimmed her eyes, even as determination defined her features.

  “This is something I must do, Father. I know my decision is hard for you and Mother, and there’s no adequate reason I can offer. It’s just something I must do. Please understand and wish me well.”