Redemption's Edge

by Shirleen Davies

Chapter Seven

  For hours, Rachel had failed to fall asleep. The combination of too many thoughts rambling through her head and worry over the town made it difficult for her to relax. Her tired body drifted off more than once yet, each time, something woke her.

  She felt herself sinking into sleep again, then gave up, tossed her thin blanket aside, and walked to the window, opening it enough to let a cool breeze wash over her. She stood, her nightdress billowing as soft waves of air entered her room.

  A quiet knock sounded. She turned, watching as the door to her room cracked open just a few inches, enough to make out the figure of a man. She stifled a gasp, wondering, hoping she knew the identity of the intruder. He strode toward her and stared down, letting his hands rest on her waist.

  “You’ve been waiting for me.” He let his gaze wander over her, his body tightening at the sight.

  Rachel locked on the face she dreamed of each night and nodded. “Yes.” The word came out as a soft whisper. “How did you get in here?”

  “Does it matter?” He let his hands move up her arms in an intimate caress. “Do you think of me often?” His gentle, southern voice washed over her, drawing her eyes to his full lips, hovering inches from hers.

  She didn’t answer, her heart hammering in her chest as he closed the distance between them and began to caress her lips with his. She let the sensations build, wanting him to do more, yet he held back.

  “I’ve wanted this since I first met you.” He lowered his head once more for what she’d been waiting…

  “Rachel? You going to sleep the morning away?”

  She jolted and sat up, rubbing her eyes as she noticed the bright sunlight filtering through her drawn curtains. Morning. She’d had another dream. The same one about Dax she’d had almost every night. Still somewhat disoriented, Rachel threw off the covers and trudged to her nightstand, splashing water on her face and scrubbing hard in an attempt to rid her thoughts and mind of the man. Although it had been several days, it still stung the way he’d told her in that calm, yet still commanding manner of his, he regretted his request to call on her.

  In her world, men did not ask to call on a lady, then tell her they no longer had an interest. Behavior such as that was unthinkable.

  What galled her the most was the realization that his lack of interest bothered her so much. He’d changed his mind, and rescinded his request—nothing more. It wasn’t as if he’d broken off an engagement or anything of note. All he did was imply she no longer appealed to him.

  Rachel groaned, dropped the brush on the dressing table, and covered her face with her hands.

  She hurried to the kitchen, smelling fried bacon and seeing a stack of flapjacks waiting on a plate. Her uncle stood at the wood stove, concentrating on his task. It was the same stance she saw each time a new patient came into the clinic—thoughtful and questioning.

  “You all right?” Rachel asked as she stood on tiptoes to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

  “Tired. Couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the situation in town and our lack of a sheriff.” He turned toward her, looking down into her eyes, pleading. “It would relieve me a great deal if you’d leave Splendor and go home. Your idea of approaching the Pelletiers made sense. If they won’t do it, we need to face the fact it may be too dangerous for you to stay.”

  She took a seat and spread butter across the flapjacks before covering them in syrup. She cut a bite-sized stack, speared it with her fork, and took the mouthful. “Oh, these are great. Just perfect.” She cooed again before cutting another bite.

  “You’re changing the subject, young woman. Don’t think I don’t know it.” He quirked an eyebrow at her.

  “I’m not ignoring the danger, just trying to find a solution.” She savored another mouthful, then set down her fork. “What about Mr. Brandt? Perhaps he’d consider being the sheriff.”

  “The blacksmith?”

  “I’ve heard he earned a reputation during the war as a hard fighter, quiet, determined, and quick. Some say he was a hero.”

  “You’re speaking of the man who runs the livery, correct?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “No reason. He’s so withdrawn, quiet. I guess I figured he’d gotten out because he didn’t have the stomach for it. Where’d you hear about him?”

  “From Timmy at the general store. He said his father would take great exception to him passing along confidences, but he thought I should know in case we had trouble.”

  “Timmy is a smart lad. Even he recognizes danger.”

  “Uncle Charles, I know there are instances where lives are threatened and people die. You’re here and haven’t made the decision to leave. I have no plans to leave, either. You’ll need to accept it.” She stood and rinsed her dirty plate. “Besides, the number of patients you see increases each week as word spreads there’s a doctor in town. You need me.” She poured a cup of coffee and scrunched her face as she sipped at the tepid brew. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink this awful stuff.”

  “I’ll have you know I learned how to make authentic western coffee from the sheriff before he was killed. Even the cook at the boardinghouse said the sheriff made the best coffee around.”

  She handed her cup to her uncle. “In that case, I won’t throw it out. I’ll give it to you.” She walked toward the door. “I guess it’s time to check the supplies in the clinic. You know how busy it seems to get as soon as we’ve had a few hours of quiet.”

  “Do not think our discussion about you leaving is over, Rachel, because it isn’t.”

  Her mouth twitched at his words. She had no plans to leave. He could do all the complaining, rationalizing, and arguing he wanted. It wouldn’t have any effect. She pushed open the back door to the clinic, then methodically opened and closed drawers and cupboards, jotting down supplies they needed. Most of the time, they were able to purchase them at Big Pine, the territorial capital southeast of Splendor. It took a full day by wagon to get there and one more to get back. They’d start at first light and wouldn’t reach their destination until after dark. Charles never lingered to enjoy the entertainment available in the larger town, always concerned about the need to return home and not leave their neighbors without a doctor. At close to four hundred residents, Splendor seemed small, but Rachel always had to remind herself that many outposts had less than one hundred inhabitants, making Splendor one of the larger towns in the Montana Territory.

  A sharp rap at the front door drew Rachel’s attention, alerting her she hadn’t unlocked the entrance.

  “Good morning, Mr. Henderson. What can I do for you?”

  “Is the doc in, Miss Rachel?”

  “He’s in the house, but I can go get him.” She started to turn when his voice stopped her.

  “Actually, it’s one of my girls. She’s got some kind of fever. Maybe you could come over, check her first to see if she needs to see the doc.”

  Rachel liked Amos Henderson, the owner of the Wild Rose Saloon, even if she disagreed with the role of his female workers. From what she’d heard, he treated the girls well, kept his place clean, and didn’t abuse them like some establishment owners did.

  “I’d be happy to look at her but, the truth is, she’ll most likely need to see my uncle.”

  “That’s fine. I just think she’d be more comfortable speaking to you first.”

  She grabbed a shawl and followed Amos to the saloon and up the side stairs to the rooms above. He stopped at one of the doors and knocked.

  “Tilly, you awake?” Amos pushed the door open enough to see the bed. Tilly lay covered, soft moans escaping, followed by racking coughs.

  Rachel rushed to her side. “She has a fever.” She pulled back the covers, not expecting the sight before her. “Mr. Henderson, perhaps it would be best if you left Tilly and me alone.”

  He blushed and backed out of the room as Rachel pulled a chair next to the bed.

  “When is the baby due, Tilly?” Rachel asked in a soft, kind voice.

&
nbsp; Tilly’s eyes were red and swollen, her voice scratchy. “Less than four months.” She choked once more and curled into a tighter ball. That’s about what Rachel would’ve guessed by the look of her.

  “How long have you been coughing and running a fever?”

  “Just since yesterday. I thought it would pass, but it got worse.”

  “Does Mr. Henderson know about the baby?”

  “He’s known for a while now. I had to tell him when I couldn’t, uh…do my work.” Tilly turned her head into the pillow, away from Rachel.

  “All right. Let’s get you over this fever, then we’ll talk about the baby.”

  Rachel sent word to her uncle, who joined her in Tilly’s room, working alongside her to help bring down the fever.

  “There isn’t much else we can do, except wait. The fever isn’t getting worse and she’s resting. I’m going to head back over to the clinic. Why don’t you stay here until she wakes up?”

  Charles stepped toward the door when it slammed open, a cowboy standing in the entrance, a look of rage mixed with fear on his face. He didn’t say a word before walking past the doctor and straight to the bed, staring down at the sleeping woman. “Is she all right, Doc?”

  The doctor joined him by the bed. “Why don’t we go out in the hall to talk?”

  “No. I’m staying right here.”

  Charles glanced at Rachel, who gave a slight shrug. “This is my nurse, Rachel Davenport. Rachel, this is Ty Murton.” He looked back to the young man. “You must know Tilly.”

  The cowboy’s eyes never wavered from Tilly’s sleeping form. “It’s my baby.” His emphatic words permitted no argument.

  Charles set down his bag, abandoning his plan to leave for the clinic. “All right. If she wakes up and wants you to stay, that’s fine. If she doesn’t, you’ll have to leave.” He pulled another chair over for Ty. The cowboy nodded, ignoring the offered chair.

  Ty watched her, overcome with concern for the woman he’d come to love.

  He’d met Tilly the first day she’d accepted a job at the Rose. She’d never worked in a saloon before, but lack of money, hunger, and desperation had left her no choice. He’d been her first, had tried to talk her out of it, not understanding why someone as pretty and sweet as her would choose such a path. They’d talked for a long time before he accepted her decision and made up his own mind to do whatever he could to get her out of this life.

  She woke coughing, but not the spasms of earlier, which had racked her body. Rachel applied another damp cloth as Tilly opened her eyes.

  “There’s a young man here to see you.” She indicated across the bed.

  Tilly’s head swiveled, then her eyes grew wide. She offered a weak smile.

  “Hello, Tilly.”

  “Tyson. What are you doing here?”

  He grabbed her hand in his and squeezed. “Where else would I be?” He stared at her, challenging her to argue. “I’m here to bring you home. Our home. That’s where you’ll have our baby.”

  “Tyson, I…” Her voice trailed off, eyes filling with tears as she absorbed his words.

  “I know you’re not sure, but I am. I’ll send for the preacher. I’m thinking the doc and Miss Davenport here will stand as witness.” He squeezed her hand again, then stood and looked at Charles. “I’m getting Reverend Paige. You’ll stay with her?”

  “Of course.” He watched Ty disappear into the hall.

  “Is that what you want, Tilly? To marry Tyson?” Rachel asked, believing it to be a possible answer to the girl’s situation.

  “I love him, but I’m not certain he’s the father. Someone like me, well…I can’t be sure.” She wiped the dampness from her cheeks and rested a hand on her stomach. She looked up as Amos Henderson walked back into the room.

  “Ty Murton says he’s the father. He’s off to get Reverend Paige. You willing to marry the boy, Tilly?”

  “Yes, Mr. Henderson. I am.”

  “And you know he’s the father?”

  She looked at the others. “No.”

  Amos shook his head. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. Don’t know what we’d do with a baby around here anyway.”

  Tyson came through the door minutes later with Reverend Paige and glared at Henderson. “You here to cause trouble, Amos?”

  “No. Making certain Tilly’s doing what she wants.” He stepped back, allowing Tyson to take his place.

  An hour later, Tilly lie in the back of Tyson’s wagon, wrapped in blankets, her fever gone, and wearing a plain gold band. Ty shook everyone’s hand, including Rachel’s, climbed onto the seat, and slapped the reins.

  “Will they be okay, Mr. Henderson?” Rachel asked as the wagon pulled away.

  “They just might be. He, his mother, and two brothers own a small ranch south of town. Good people, hard workers. I don’t believe they’ll have a problem accepting Tilly. She didn’t have much experience before coming here.” He scratched his head. “Fact is, I don’t think she had any. I saw the way Tyson looked at Tilly her first night at the Rose. He came back darn near every night and paid for her time. Don’t know where he got the money or how he made it in so often as their ranch is quite a distance away, but he did. I doubt that girl was with more than one or two others the entire time she was here, and those were early on.” Amos walked up the steps and through the saloon doors, letting them swing behind him.

  “You all right, Rachel?” Charles asked.

  She looked up as a tired smile broke across her face and nodded toward the wagon as it pulled out of sight. “It’s the people, Uncle Charles. That’s why I want to stay in Splendor.”

  “Where are you headed?” Luke sat in one of the big leather chairs in the study, feet propped on a table, sipping whiskey and eyeing Dax.

  “Into town. Thought I’d see how the doc is doing.”

  “The doc, huh?”

  “That’s what I said.” Dax ignored the skeptical look on his brother’s face as he buckled his gun belt in place.

  “Are you going to talk to the doc any more about the need for a sheriff?”

  “I hadn’t thought about it. Are you still thinking you may want the job?”

  “Not unless you have an interest to splitting it between us. Neither of us has time to handle it alone.”

  “Like you, I have no interest. They’ll need to find someone else.”

  Luke knew when Dax made a final decision, it stayed that way—final. He watched Dax head for the front door.

  “Say hello to the, uh…doctor for me,” Luke called after him, chuckling at the thought Dax had been hooked by a nurse in the frontiers of Montana. A nurse from the North, no less.

  Dax rode at a brisk pace, wanting to reach Splendor before Rachel had time to eat. He hoped she’d accept his apology and agree to spend some time with him, perhaps even let him take her to supper. He’d thought over and over about what he’d said and her reaction. He’d never have done the same to a lady in Savannah. Even if she no longer held any attraction, he would’ve honored his request and taken her to tea, or supper, or some activity to fulfill his obligation. Doing otherwise would’ve been humiliating for the woman and cast him as a cad. Why did he think he could skirt convention because they lived in the wilderness? He shook his head at the sheer stupidity of his actions.

  Even though he still felt a strong pull back to Texas, and building a relationship with Rachel would be a huge mistake, Dax felt drawn to her and wanted to learn more about her. He knew his actions were selfish. Perhaps the more he learned, the less appealing she’d become and he could leave without a backward glance. He almost laughed at the thought.

  “I’ll get it.” Rachel pulled the door open to stare at the man who’d embarrassed her and haunted her dreams. As had become her habit when facing Dax, she straightened her spine as if doing so would fortify her against the way her body responded to the man.

  “General Pelletier. To what do we owe the honor of your company?” As much as Rachel told herself she never wanted
to see him again, a part of her hoped he’d reconsidered his previous comments. She wanted to be the focus of his visit. And wanted to decline any offer he made to make amends.

  The sarcastic sweetness in her voice had Dax on alert. He fingered the brim of his hat, never taking his eyes from hers. “Miss Davenport.” He made a slight bow. “Business brought me into town and I thought I’d pay my respects.” It surprised him how the lie fell from his lips with little effort. “Is the doctor available?”

  Disappointment washed over her at the realization he hadn’t come to see her. She dropped her gaze. “Why, yes. I’ll get him for you.”

  Rachel left Dax standing outside and knocked on her uncle’s bedroom door.

  “What is it?”

  She inhaled a deep breath and did her best to calm her features. “Dax Pelletier is here. He’d like to see you.”

  “I see.” At least he thought he understood the source of his niece’s agitation.

  She hadn’t quite been herself since the night Pelletier brought her home from tending to Hank Wilson. And, after his refusal to help the town, she’d been downright disdainful any time his name came up.

  “Well, I guess I should see what he wants.” He started for the door, then turned back. “Would you care to join us?”

  “No.” She barked out, feeling instant regret at her caustic tone. “I have supper to prepare. Please, go on ahead.”

  Dax stood ramrod straight, chastising himself for what he’d said to Rachel. He should’ve come right out and apologized for his callous behavior. He seemed destined to be the worst kind of fool where she was concerned.

  “Good evening, Mr. Pelletier.”

  “Doctor. I hope I’m not interrupting.” He looked behind the doctor, disappointed he didn’t see Rachel.

  “Not at all. Rachel just started supper. You wished to see me?”

  Dax looked down at his boots, then back up at the doctor before clearing his throat. “The truth is, I came to see Rachel, hoping she’d allow me to escort her to supper.”

  Charles nodded, understanding the dilemma. Rachel had always been stubborn. He knew something had changed between her and Pelletier after the night she’d ridden out to request their help. She’d told him they’d refused, but nothing more.

  “You know, Rachel is an excellent cook. I don’t know what she’s preparing tonight, but I do know there will be plenty. She makes enough for an army.” He chuckled, visualizing the portions of food she always served. “I believe the girl is trying to fatten me up. Anyway, why don’t you join us? It would be nice to share a meal with another man.” He gave Dax a conspiratorial wink.

  Dax hesitated a brief moment. “If you’re sure I wouldn’t be intruding.”

  “Not at all. Follow me.”

  Rachel heard voices before she saw anyone come through the door. She turned her back to the entry and, standing straight, focused on the pot of stew she’d prepared the night before.

  “Just put your hat on one of the hooks and I’ll let Rachel know you’re joining us for supper.”

  Rachel heard her uncle’s words and fumed. She would not share a table with Dax Pelletier.

  “Rachel—”

  “I heard.” She turned on her uncle. “How could you invite him here without asking me? I may not have enough food,” she hissed. “In fact, I’m sure I don’t. He’ll have to come another time.” She glared at him, trying to swipe errant strands of hair out of her face with one hand, while gripping a large wooden spoon in the other. As if she couldn’t feel worse, Dax Pelletier appeared behind her uncle.

  “It certainly smells wonderful in here. I hope the invitation from the doctor still stands.” He grinned at her, fueling her irritation.

  She plastered on her most ingratiating smile. “Of course it stands. Why wouldn’t it?”

  Her voice wreaked of insincerity, something her uncle had never witnessed.

  “Rachel, if—”

  “Uncle, why don’t you offer the general a drink while I finish supper?” She grabbed another plate from the cupboard, along with utensils, and marched past the men and into the dining room.

  “What may I get you to drink?” Charles asked as they walked away from the kitchen.

  “Whiskey would be perfect, if you have it.”

  “Well, I guess you’re safe,” the doctor whispered to Dax as he handed him his glass.

  The men relaxed in the living room, chatting, giving Rachel time to ladle stew into a large bowl, place biscuits in a warming basket, and set them both on the table. She clasped her hands in front of her.

  “Supper is ready, gentlemen.”

  Dax walked to the table, holding a chair for Rachel. She took her seat, then glanced at him for a mere moment, her eyes frosty. “Thank you.”

  He’d expected a smart retort and almost missed her quiet words.

  Charles said a brief blessing before the three filled their plates.

  Dax waited a moment, then dug in. “This is excellent, Miss Davenport.” Bernice, at the ranch, prepared good meals—hot, flavorsome, and filling. But the stew Rachel made could have been served at a fine restaurant. And the biscuits with blackberry jam were the best he’d had in years. “Did you make the jam also?”

  Rachel looked at Dax and thought how odd it felt to be sitting at the supper table with a man she’d sworn to stay as far away from as possible, but her uncle had given her no choice.

  “No. Mrs. Petermann, at the general store, made it last summer. She’s going to show me where to find the berries this year so that I can put them up myself.” Her agitation lessened somewhat the more she spoke, although her irritation at their guest remained high.

  “Do you enjoy cooking?”

  She didn’t want to like talking with him, sharing parts of herself, allowing him to learn more details of her life, no matter how trivial. And she did not want to learn any more about him. Rachel had no doubt the more she knew about Dax and his life, the more her attraction would grow.

  “It depends on who’s at the table.”

  He didn’t take the bait, just continued to enjoy the meal and the company. No matter how hard she tried to put him off, Dax found himself fascinated by Rachel and her many talents. If he had to identify one quality that drew him to her the most, it would be her total lack of self-absorption. She was a woman unaffected by either her looks or talent. They were a part of her life, not what defined her.

  “Any more trouble in town?” Dax directed the question at Charles, eager to move beyond the issues between him and Rachel. He felt certain that, given enough time, they would sort them out and perhaps become friends.

  “Nothing more. Jeff Decker, the young cowhand who was shot, seems to be doing well. It’s a miracle the boy made it.”

  “His healing had everything to do with your treatment, Uncle Charles. And prayer.”

  “I’ll concede to the prayer part, Rachel.” He looked back at Dax. “It’s a real dilemma. One the town needs to solve soon, before it gets worse. I understand Rachel spoke to you and your brother, and I have no issue with your decision. Might you know of anyone else who would have an interest in Splendor?” He set down his fork and sat back. “At this point, the town will do what is needed to find someone, Mr. Pelletier.”

  “Do you have an idea of who is causing the trouble?”

  “Al, the bartender at the Rose where Decker got shot, didn’t mention a name. The description could have fit about any cowboy around here.”

  “What about the other trouble, before and after the sheriff died?”

  “No one has ever gotten a good look at anyone. Shootings, murder, fires, cattle get run off…” His voice trailed off, thinking about the violence which had occurred over the last year. “Before he was killed, the sheriff mentioned he thought Mr. Drake might be involved somehow. Unfortunately, he never said anything about proof.” Charles picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.

  Dax’s gaze narrowed at the mention of the deserter. “King Tolbert’s man?”
>
  “That’s the only Drake I know of around here. Have you met him?”

  “He rode out to the ranch a few weeks ago to deliver a message from Tolbert.” He glanced at Rachel. “The message wasn’t cordial.” He allowed himself small satisfaction when he saw a look of surprise cross her face. “Drake served under my command when we were in the Army of the South. The man and I have a history.”

  “Why would Mr. Tolbert hire someone like him?” Rachel knew her uncle had grave reservations about King.

  Dax gave her a pointed stare. “I don’t know. However, I do plan to find out.”

  Rachel scooted back from the table and began to gather the empty plates.

  “I’ll help with that.” Dax followed her into the kitchen, glad to have a few minutes alone with her.

  “Here.” Rachel tossed him a towel. “You don’t mind drying the dishes, do you?” Sarcasm filled her voice. She chastised herself, hating the feeling of sounding rude, even toward someone who thought so little of the town…and her. She told herself he deserved whatever she threw at him.

  “Whatever you need.” His quiet response made her feel even worse about her behavior.

  “Why are you here?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, but didn’t stop scrubbing the dirty pan. If anything, her movements became more forceful.

  Dax swiveled to face her, his eyes riveted on hers. “At your home?”

  “Yes. Why did you come tonight? I know it wasn’t to see my uncle, and you’ve already told me you have no interest in helping out the town or calling on me. Why not stay cocooned at your ranch, instead of riding all this way for a meal of stew and biscuits?” She stopped scrubbing long enough to dry her hands on the towel draped over her shoulder and turn toward him.

  He set a plate aside and moved to stand a foot away. “I believe it had something to do with you.”

  “Me?” She thought he’d make up some pointless excuse about picking up supplies or having the blacksmith check out his horse. Instead, he’d surprised her with his simple answer.

  “That surprises you?”

  “Well, yes.” She stepped back, trying to create space, but halted as she hit the edge of the sink. “You made it clear you’d made a mistake asking to call on me.”

  “I was a fool.”

  Her brows furrowed, creating a crease with tiny lines between her eyes. Dax could see his answer made no sense to her.

  “I want to be clear, Rachel. First, I’m sorry for my callous behavior. I didn’t mean to imply I regretted asking to call on you, I meant I should never have asked in the first place, not without thinking it through.”

  “There’s no difference.” She turned back to the sink and picked up the pan, beginning another onslaught against the iron skillet.

  “The truth is, I want to spend time with you, more than you know.” He edged closer, resting one hand on the sink, but not hemming her in with the other. Not yet. “I’m not sure how wise it is, knowing I may leave for Texas.”

  She turned toward him and glanced down at his hand before moving a couple of inches away.

  “I came tonight to apologize for my previous behavior and ask you to supper. However, you’d already started cooking, which worked out well for me, even if not so well for you.” He gripped the edge of the sink with his other hand, trapping her between his arms.

  She swallowed, feeling heat creep up her face. “Why not so well for me?” She tried to steady her voice. Instead, her words were thick and shaky.

  “You ended up cooking for me. Which, by the way, was quite good.” He leaned closer, wanting to capture her mouth with his, yet knowing it wouldn’t be wise.

  She took a shallow breath and looked behind him, her eyes darting toward the outside. “Does it feel hot in here to you?” Rachel felt a desperate need to open the door and let in a cool breeze.

  Dax lifted a hand and let his knuckles trace a path from her ear, down her cheek, across her jaw. “Feels fine to me.” His deep voice clouded her brain even more. “I still want to take you to supper.” His darkened eyes held a magnetism, drawing her in.

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Her words came out in a broken whisper. She rested a hand on his chest. She could feel the insistent beating of his heart as he moved his fingertips to the base of her throat, then raised them in a slow, almost intimate pace to her cheek, setting her body aflame.

  Dax inhaled a deep breath and stepped away. He gazed down at her, glad to see she mirrored his own feelings of desire.

  “I think it’s an excellent idea.” His husky, uneven voice surprised him. It was a few, soft caresses, nothing more, yet it felt as if his body had been set on fire. “I’ll call on you next week.”

  Rachel straightened and stepped toward the back door, pushing it open to allow the cool air inside. She didn’t respond as he left the room.

  ~~~~~