Redemption's Edge Page 7

Chapter Four

  “Good morning, Mr. Brandt.” Rachel slid off her horse, an older dun, and walked him into the livery.

  Noah Brandt, the town’s blacksmith, looked up, then stepped away from the horse he’d been tending. “Ma’am. What can I do for you?”

  “Old Pete lost a shoe.” She indicated the right front hoof. “May I leave him here with you?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That’d be fine.” Noah took the reins and led the horse to a back stall. “Can’t get to him until later today, though.”

  “That’s fine. I’ll stop back later.” Rachel stepped into the sunlit morning as a group of riders approached from north of town. It appeared to be King Tolbert with a few of the men from his ranch. She’d met Tolbert several times, and he’d extended invitations for supper on a couple of occasions. Her uncle had always refused. Rachel figured he had a good reason, although she found King to be quite appealing with exceptional manners and a charming wit. Regardless, her uncle had warned her to be careful around the man.

  “Good morning, Miss Davenport.” King stopped and tipped his hat.

  “Mr. Tolbert.” Rachel gave a slight nod, not letting the smile she felt appear. She wanted to heed her uncle’s advice, yet saw no real danger in the man.

  “I’ve been remiss in not pursuing a supper engagement with you. Would you be available tonight?”

  Rachel hesitated a moment before answering. “I do appreciate the invitation, Mr. Tolbert. However, I take care of my uncle and never know when a new patient will arrive.”

  “I’m certain your uncle will understand you taking one night away, Miss Davenport. Why don’t I speak with him?”

  “Oh, no. That won’t be necessary.” She pursed her lips, coming to a decision. “Perhaps one evening away will be all right.”

  “Splendid. I’ll pick you up at six tonight.” He tipped his hat once more, then rode down the main street, tying his horse outside the bank, while the others dismounted and milled about.

  Rachel noticed none made a move to head toward the general store or saloon. It seemed as if they were standing guard, watching out for their boss and any perceived danger. She shook her head at the thought of a threat against such a prominent rancher and continued on to the clinic. A wagon had arrived since she’d left so she hurried inside.

  “Uncle Charles?”

  “Back here, Rachel.”

  She stepped into the back room to see a small girl on the table, two adults and two other children standing around watching the doctor’s efforts to help.

  “What is it?”

  “This is Mr. and Mrs. Weston. Their daughter has a fever and can’t hold her food down.” Without saying another word, he motioned for Rachel to guide the family to the waiting room so they could work.

  “I’m Rachel Davenport, the nurse. It would be best if you and your children wait in the front.” She saw the reluctance on the mother’s face and understood her concern. “This is a small room and the doctor needs all the space to treat your daughter.” She led the parents and children to the other room. “I’ll be back to let you know how she’s doing. What’s her name?”

  “Janie,” Mrs. Weston replied in an unsteady voice.

  Rachel closed the door and joined her uncle beside the little girl.

  “We need to get her fever down.”

  Rachel went right to work, gathering what they needed. She’d begun applying a cold cloth to the girl’s face and chest when the door slammed opened.

  “Doc, you got to come quick. There’s been an accident and we need your help.” The dirt-covered cowboy pulled his old hat off when he spotted Rachel.

  “Son, I’ve got me a sick girl. I can’t go now.”

  “But our foreman, Hank Wilson, has been shot. Pelletier, the new owner, said to get you right away.”

  Rachel glanced up at the mention of Dax. “Perhaps you should go. I can take care of this.”

  Charles looked at his niece, then at the cowboy. “Where’s the bullet?”

  “In his shoulder, near his chest.”

  “Rachel, I can’t be in two places at once. You have good experience with bullet wounds. You take my bag and head out to the Pelletier ranch. See what you can do while I tend to the child. She has a high fever and may convulse. You don’t have as much experience with the reactions of young children to illness. I’d better stay with her. Take what you need from the cupboard.”

  “But—”

  “Rachel, you’re a solid nurse and, frankly, better than most doctors I’ve seen. You go. Do what you can for Mr. Wilson.”

  She bit her lower lip, deciding it would be futile to argue further. She grabbed her uncle’s medical bag, inserted a few items from the shelves, and turned toward the waiting man.

  “I need to get the buggy ready.”

  “You ride behind me, ma’am. It’ll be quicker.” The cowboy jammed the hat back on his head, grabbed the bag from her, and dashed out.

  “You’re sure…?”

  Her uncle glanced up. “Go. You’ll do fine.”

  She followed the man outside, offering a brief explanation to Mr. and Mrs. Weston before closing the door. Rachel grabbed the hand he offered and, in one move, he swung her behind him.

  “I’m Bull Mason, ma’am,” he called back to her as his horse galloped out of town.

  “Rachel Davenport,” she answered, but doubted he’d heard.

  It didn’t take long before she saw the ranch house in the distance. Bull stopped and helped her down, handing Rachel the bag before escorting her inside toward a downstairs bedroom. She walked into the room and halted at the sight of Dax leaning over the injured man, trying to stop the bleeding, while an older woman wiped the man’s forehead with a cloth.

  “General.” She nodded at Dax as she set the bag down and opened it. “Let me see.”

  Even under the circumstances, Dax couldn’t keep a wry smile from forming. It vanished when Rachel pulled back the bandage to examine the wound.

  “Rifle shot?”

  “Appears so.” Dax stood and pulled the chair away to give Rachel more space. “What can I do to help?”

  “Hot water, alcohol, bandages—and wash your hands if you’re planning to help.” She didn’t look up, focusing all her attention on the injured man.

  “All right. Everyone out.” Luke herded the others out of the room. “I’ll get the water and alcohol. Bernice, will you grab some bandages?”

  She nodded and scurried away, returning a moment later with a handful of makeshift bandages and a couple of towels, handing one to Dax, who’d finished washing his hands in a basin on the nightstand. Luke walked in with a pan of hot water and a bottle of whiskey, then left, closing the door behind him.

  Most of the men didn’t leave. Instead, they congregated outside on the porch, talking of the shooting and possible man, or men, behind the action. The only other person with Hank on the western edge of the property was Bull and from his description, the person who pulled the trigger rode a large roan, like the one Drake had ridden onto the ranch several days before.

  “Was there anyone else with him?” Luke asked as he leaned against the porch railing, arms crossed.

  “Not that I could see. Odd, as I figured him for someone who’d give the order, not pull the trigger.” Bull rubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw.

  “But you’re sure it was him?”

  Bull paused a moment. “He sat on a big roan, dark hat—same as Drake. Wish I could’ve seen his face.”

  “May not be good enough for the sheriff.” The others looked up at Luke’s comment, then glanced at each other.

  “We don’t have a sheriff. Haven’t since ours showed up dead a few months ago. Shot in the back.” Ellis threw the piece of leather he’d been working on to the ground.

  “The town can’t find a replacement?” Luke asked.

  “No one wants the job.” Bull walked down the steps. “I’ll be in the barn.” Even though the ranch often used Noah Brandt as a blacksmith, Bull could do a good job
when they couldn’t get to town. It was often the way he chose to think and blow off steam.

  Luke watched Bull disappear into the barn. He thought over the man’s words and wondered how hard it would be to attract a lawman to this isolated town at the foot of the Territory Range. The land mass stretched north and south between the border of Montana and Idaho. It seemed a good place for anyone who wanted to start over or get lost. Luke wondered which category he and Dax fell into.

  “There it is.” Rachel mumbled more to herself than to the other two who hovered over the bed. She made a slight sound of satisfaction as the bullet clinked into a metal bowl. “Alcohol.” She reached over to accept the bottle Dax offered and poured a generous amount on the hole, then looked up at Mrs. Wilson. “He’s fortunate. The bullet went more into the shoulder area and didn’t clip a lung. Overall, if there’s no infection, he should be ready to ride in a few weeks.”

  “I’ll let the men know.” Dax walked to the door, then turned back. “Nice work, Miss Davenport. Thank you.”

  The door closed behind him, allowing Rachel to take her first deep breath since she’d arrived. She didn’t know what about the man triggered such intense reactions in her. She’d never experienced anything like the surges of heat, racing heart, and halting breath that seemed to occur around Dax Pelletier. Rachel had seen many men in her job as a nurse. He was, quite simply, the most compelling man she’d ever met.

  It had been all she could do to keep her focus on the injured man and not the feelings an innocent touch of his hand would arouse. The reaction unnerved her. She’d wanted to reach over and stroke his arm, touch his face, but held her curiosity in check.

  “Miss Davenport?”

  The sound of her name pulled Rachel out of her rambling thoughts. “Yes?”

  “I can sit with my husband now. You’re probably exhausted. Why don’t I fix you some coffee or tea so you can relax a bit?”

  Rachel let out a sigh. “Tea would be wonderful.”

  Minutes later, Bernice returned and handed her a cup.

  “He’ll be in pain for a while. I can leave some laudanum, if you’d like.” She sipped at her tea and felt the tension flow out of her.

  “Hank has no use for that kind of stuff, but you can leave it.” Bernice sat down and took hold of her husband’s hand.

  “I believe I’ll get some fresh air.” Rachel walked out the front door to see that everyone had dispersed. She chose a seat in a large rocker and leaned her head against the back, closing her eyes. She must have lost track of time because when she opened them again, the sun had begun to set and Dax stood over her, a slight grin on his face.

  He’d been watching Rachel for a long time, her face now eased of the tension he’d seen while she worked on Hank. She seemed to be in a deep sleep, her eyelids fluttering as the cooling breeze washed over her face. At one point, she started, then settled back when whatever menace haunted her had passed. He’d wanted to stroke his knuckles down her cheek, feel the softness and the warmth. More than anything, he wanted to kiss her, feel her lips against his.

  “I’m sorry. I must’ve dozed off.” She started to rise, then stopped as Dax placed a hand on her arm.

  “No hurry. Supper’s almost ready. You need to eat before we head back to town.”

  “Town? Oh, I’d forgotten. I rode out with Mr. Mason.”

  “I’ll be taking you back.” Dax took a seat next to her, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankles, folding his arms over his chest.

  She stared over at him, swallowing a lump in her throat, already dreading such close proximity to Dax on the ride back. She couldn’t recall ever being physically drawn to a man, at least not to more than a handsome face. Dax Pelletier elicited feelings that were so much more than she ever thought possible, as if a magnet drew her toward him. At the same time, she found it difficult to form a cohesive thought. The entire situation seemed ridiculous.

  “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 cof
fee, 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 called 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.

  ~~~~~