Chapter Sixteen
“He’s not going to make it, is he?” Rachel’s heart sank at the way Johnny struggled for every breath. They’d done all they could, and he’d fought hard. Yet, with each heartbeat, his body sank further into decline.
“There’s always hope.” Charles suspected the cowhand suffered internal injuries. Nothing more could be done, but the doctor refused to believe the worst. He’d seen more miracles in his life than he could count, patients without a chance would rally and prove him wrong. “I won’t give up on him.”
Tat began to improve within the first few hours after Charles and Rachel arrived. Although severe, his injuries hadn’t been as extensive as Johnny’s. Charles felt certain Tat would recover.
“Is there anything more we can do?”
“Keep watch and make him comfortable. It’s up to his body, and God.”
The bunkhouse door scraped open as Bull stepped inside, carrying food and coffee from the main house. He set everything down on a nearby table before looking at both men.
“Dax, Luke, and the others are back. I expect they’ll be over here any time.”
No sooner had he finished than the door opened to reveal the group who’d ridden to Tolbert’s ranch. Their expressions signaled the displeasure and frustration each felt.
Gabe walked up next to Rachel, staring down at Tat, then Johnny. “Are they improving?”
“Tat is, Johnny is hanging on,” Rachel said as she applied a damp cloth to the face of the young man who’d yet to rally. “We’ll know more by morning. Tat should recover real well, although Charles is certain he’ll end up with a limp.” She looked toward the second bed.
“You and the doctor have done a good job. From what I’ve been told, it’s surprising either of them still has a chance.”
Dax watched the easy exchange between the two and felt what could only be described as jealousy swell within him. He’d always been cocky, even arrogant in his attitude toward the emotion. He kept a tight hold on his feelings, never before allowing a woman to get under his skin, mess with his mind. The control had vanished when Rachel entered his life.
He replayed the warning he’d given Rachel earlier. Let me remind you, Miss Davenport. This is the Pelletier ranch. It doesn’t belong to you or anyone else, and no one tells me what to do on my own property. He’d been surprised at the intensity of his words, as if he believed them. Had he been lying to himself, to Luke, and to Rachel? Did the ranch mean more to him than he’d been willing to admit?
“I’ll be in the house. Thanks for riding out, Gabe.” He shook the other man’s hand, nodded at the doctor and Rachel, then disappeared outside.
She set down the damp cloth and fought the urge to go after him. The need to be near Dax, touch him, had swelled to the point of suffocation. Weren’t her feelings for him supposed to recede, give way to an acceptance that whatever had begun between them had ended? Why did it seem her desire for the man continued to build? It wasn’t supposed to be this way.
“Go to him, Rachel. He won’t talk to me. Perhaps he’ll open up to you.”
She hadn’t noticed Luke walk up beside her. “It would be a wasted effort. He wants nothing to do with me.”
“You might be surprised at what he wants. Fact is, he may not realize what’s important to him. The man hides his feelings well.”
Rachel considered Luke’s words. “What makes you think he’ll speak with me?”
“Perhaps he won’t. You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
Rachel let her hands run down the front of her dress, more in nervous agitation than as a way to smooth the creases. Before she had time to talk herself out of it, she pulled the door open and, with determined steps, followed Dax to the house.
He’d reached the front door when he heard footfalls on the steps behind him. He glanced over his shoulder, surprised at who stepped up next to him.
“Is there something you want?” His sharp eyes narrowed as he studied her.
Her courage began to slip as she focused on the set of his face and clamped jaw, wondering why she’d taken Luke’s advice. Then she caught herself, determined to forge ahead.
“Do you have a minute to talk?” The calm, even tone surprised her.
“About?” Dax’s breath hitched as her tongue skimmed across her lips. The small action sent heat rushing through his body and he crossed his arms in an attempt to hide his reaction.
What could she talk about? The attacks on the ranch, his plans, her love for him?
“The clinic.” The words popped out before she even realized it. Her look of surprise wasn’t lost on Dax.
Amusement crossed his face as it dawned on him her request might not have anything whatsoever to do with the clinic.
“All right. Come inside and we’ll talk about the clinic.” He let the two words stretch out. “Would you like some coffee, or a glass of sherry?”
Rachel took a seat in one of the large leather chairs, a mischievous look flashing across her face. “Whiskey would be nice.”
Dax’s brows shot up, offering no comment on her choice. He poured their drinks, then selected the chair across from her, moving it forward so their knees touched. He noticed her face color at the implied intimacy.
“Here’s to our first whiskey together.” He lifted his glass in a slight salute, then took a swallow. “Now, what is it about the clinic you want to discuss, Rachel?” He spoke in a quiet tone, the smooth, rich sound creating a warmth that flowed through her.
She held the glass of whiskey in both hands as if it were a shield between her and Dax. She studied the tawny color a moment before raising the glass to her lips and taking a slow sip. Rachel hadn’t indulged in whiskey since leaving Boston. Unlike many women, she enjoyed it, had cultivated a taste for the drink during her time in the field hospitals where it had been plentiful. She took one more sip, then trained her eyes on Dax, noticing for the first time how his had turned a deep steel gray and were filled with an emotion she couldn’t quite define.
Rachel continued to roll the glass between her hands and cleared her throat. “Uncle Charles would like to expand his practice to include those families who live miles away. Establish a pattern of visiting them every few months to make sure everyone is fine.”
“Like a circuit judge?” Dax asked.
“Why, yes.” She took a breath, glad he’d followed her meaning. “To do this, we need to stock more supplies and, at some point, buy another horse. I don’t know if Old Pete is up for what he plans.”
Dax sat forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Would you accompany him?” He didn’t like the idea of Rachel traveling into open, and often wild, territory without more protection than what her uncle could provide.
“On occasion. He’d be gone several days, perhaps a week, which is a dilemma as the town would be without a doctor.”
“They’d have you.”
“I’m not a doctor.”
“You’re better than most I’ve seen.” He inched forward, letting his knees rest on either side of hers, trapping Rachel in her seat. “Because of your field experience, you possess skills some doctors don’t. You’re efficient and steady, and patients feel safe with you. That’s a skill not easy to learn, yet you come by it naturally.”
His unexpected praise surprised her. She had no idea he had so much confidence in her abilities. The knowledge warmed her, as did the nearness of his body, which also sent a warning. She needed space. Rachel tried to move her chair back a few inches, only to find the rug underneath held it in place. Having no other choice, she stood, forcing him to inch backward, allowing her to step around the chair.
“Why, thank you, although I believe you may be exaggerating my skills.”
“Not at all. Remember, I saw many doctors during my time with the Confederacy, and few had your capacity to not just heal the wound, but calm the patient. It’s a gift not many possess.” His eyes caught and held hers. He stood and reached up to move loose tendrils of hair from her face and tuck them beh
ind her ear. The movement was slow as he let his fingers trace a path along her cheek. “What do you need from me?”
She held her breath at the feel of his fingers on her skin, burning a trail that caused her heart to race to such an extent, she knew he must have heard it. The sensations were so right, so perfect, she’d felt an immediate loss when his arm dropped away.
“Rachel?” His voice sounded raspy and thick, even to him.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” She lifted her face, displaying the same confusion he felt.
“I asked what you needed from me. I assume there must be a reason you’re telling me about these plans.” He stepped back and poured himself another drink, admonishing himself for his impulsive action.
“Yes, of course there’s a reason.” The reason…What was the reason? “I wondered, if it might be possible, for you and Luke to help fund the additional supplies. It could be a loan, or perhaps a donation, or…” She’d only come up with this idea seconds before, surprised she’d thought of anything at all.
“And what would we get out of it?” He stepped a few feet closer, stopping in front of her chair.
“Get out of it?” His question confused her.
“If we provide the funds, what can we expect from you?” Dax didn’t understand why he kept baiting her. He still believed his time in Splendor would be short, yet he couldn’t seem to rid his thoughts of this woman. She now stood before him, asking for his help, and he couldn’t get the vision of them kissing and embracing out his mind.
Her mind raced. “Well, we could perhaps name the clinic for you. Yes, that’s exactly what we could do. The Pelletier Medical Clinic.” She stood and smiled up at him. “What do you think?”
The excitement in her voice and the radiant smile she shot him were more than he could handle. He stepped closer, wrapped an arm around her waist, and tugged her to him, lowering his mouth to hers.
At first, Rachel offered no resistance. This is what she’d dreamed of and wanted ever since he walked away. She let her hands glide up his arms to his shoulders, then wrapped them around his neck as he deepened the kiss.
“Ah, Rachel,” he breathed against her mouth as his tongue outlined her lips until she opened for him and he eased inside, tasting the whiskey, as a moan escaped her lips. He let his hands roam her back as he aligned her body with his. “I want you, Rachel,” he whispered.
His quiet words brought Rachel back to her senses. She dropped her hands from his neck to his shoulders, and pushed without success. She pushed harder and he let her go, allowing her to gain the distance she sought.
“We can’t do this, Dax. I can’t do this.” Her voice shook with emotion.
He took a ragged breath and stepped away. “I’m sorry. It shouldn’t have happened—”
“Don’t say that. There isn’t much I understand about my reaction to you except it feels right, and good, and perfect. I don’t understand any of it.” She placed one hand on her forehead and turned away from him, unable to meet his gaze.
“I wish I could explain.” His resigned, broken voice stirred Rachel, and she wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and pull him close.
She turned, her gaze questioning. “Why, Dax? Why leave a prosperous ranch, your brother, and people who believe in you to pursue a future hundreds of miles away, when the dream is already right in front of you?” I’m right in front of you, she thought.
He’d been asking the same questions of himself for weeks, believing he knew the reason, yet not finding a solution.
“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Rachel.” The despair in his voice cut through her.
“Do what?”
“Be the person they need.” His gaze focused on her. “The person you need.”
She didn’t break eye contact as she stepped closer. “You don’t have to be anyone except yourself. You’re already the person I need.”
He reached out and ran his knuckles in a soft caress from the corner of an eye to the contour of her jaw, letting it drift down the soft column of her neck, and feeling a sense of desperation at his inability to explain his doubts. How could anyone understand his absolute certainty he could perform his duties as a Texas Ranger, track and bring in dangerous outlaws, yet he couldn’t face the thought of leading men again? How could he have them look to him for answers when he felt so uncertain himself?
He’d led men to victory in battle after battle, watching good men die, yet continuing to believe in the Confederacy’s right to secede. Then the momentum shifted. Battles were lost, more men died. Still, he pushed on in the war against the Union. He’d been prepared to continue as long as needed to achieve their goal. Until the day all chance of victory had been erased with the signing of the surrender.
All those battles, all the men who’d sacrificed so much. Had it been for nothing?
A year ago, he couldn’t imagine feeling this way. His craving to lead had been as much a part of him as his arms and legs, pushing him to accomplish—first as the captain of merchant ships, then as an officer, culminating in the rank of general. Yet here it was, staring him the face. He’d lost his desire to be the man others looked to for solutions, and he had no idea how to reclaim it.
Dax dropped his hand and stepped away.
“Talk to me. Help me understand.”
He started to speak, then pulled back at the sound of voices a moment before Luke opened the door and stepped inside with Ellis.
“I thought you might be in here.” If Luke suspected he’d interrupted anything, he didn’t let on. “Ellis and I are riding out to stay with the other men guarding the herd. Bull’s insisting he’s healed enough to go with us. What do you think?”
“Take him. I’m going with you.” Dax moved around Rachel and toward the door.
“I thought you’d say that. Ellis already saddled Hannibal.” Luke glanced at Rachel. “Doc says he has to go back to town tomorrow morning. He’d prefer to take both men with him, but doesn’t think it’s wise in their condition. He’ll come back tomorrow night to check on them.”
“I can stay while my uncle’s in town.” She directed her comment to Dax.
“I’d appreciate that.” He let his eyes drift over her once more before following the others outside.
Rachel watched them leave, more confused than ever about Dax, his reasons for leaving, and their own reactions to each other. Regardless, she had learned something. Luke was right. Dax struggled with demons he couldn’t define and perhaps didn’t understand himself.
“Sit down, Drake.” King indicated a chair across from the desk where he sat. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed. “When will the men be back?”
“I expect them by supper tomorrow. Why?”
“The sheriff wants to speak with them about the stampede. He’s certain my men are responsible. If either of the Pelletier men die, it will be murder.”
“I already told you none of the men were involved. They were with me.”
“How far were you camped from their herd?” King knew Drake must have known the Pelletier herd was close by. You don’t move a large number of cattle without hearing them.
“Not close, but we were aware of their location. We camped in the hill area and they were in the valley below.”
“And no one spoke of how interesting it could get if some of those cattle were spooked? No mention of the Pelletier herd at all?”
“No.”
“The sheriff said gunshots were fired. Are you telling me no one heard anything?”
“That’s what I’m saying.”
King had no proof the man lied, although he suspected it. Most cowhands were honest men, working hard to earn a living. A few always wanted to stir up trouble. You didn’t need to look for them. They were the vocal ones, men who might joke about it, then go ahead and do it. Men like that had no place on his ranch.
“Send the men to me as soon as they return.”
“Sure. Anything else?”
“No.”
&n
bsp; Tolbert waited until Drake left, then stood and walked to the window facing the barn. He didn’t know if Drake ordered the stampede or not, but gunshots and moving cattle could be heard for miles in the quiet of the night. The bigger question remained—Drake’s motivation for going against his orders and threatening the Pelletiers, shooting at their men, and stampeding their cattle. What did the man have against them? Tolbert considered himself a good businessman, willing to go to extremes others weren’t to achieve his goals. However, he had never ordered men hurt.
“Father?”
He turned as Abigail opened the door and stepped inside. “I’ll be retiring now. Tomorrow is a big day.” She walked up and placed a kiss on his cheek.
“Tomorrow?”
She tilted her head. “The ladies at the church are having a luncheon and I’ve been invited. You didn’t forget, did you?”
“Uh…no, of course not.”
“I’ll be leaving late morning. Do you need me to check for telegrams or mail?”
“Who’s riding with you?”
She smiled up at him. “No one, Father. I’m riding Willie.” She saw the concern on his face. Her father seldom allowed her to go anywhere alone. In fact, he hadn’t allowed her to travel anywhere by herself for quite some time. “There’s nothing to worry about.”
“I’d prefer to have someone ride with you. Let me check with Drake.”
She kept her voice calm, even though irritation swelled within her. “There’s no need to send anyone. I’m perfectly capable of riding to town and back by myself. You used to let me do it all the time before…” Her voice faded at the realization she’d started to mention a subject her father preferred to ignore.
King shot a quick look at his daughter, clearing his throat before turning away at the reminder of what had happened a few years before. He knew he’d been keeping a tight watch over Abigail, demanding someone accompany her any time she left the house. He understood her need for a measure of freedom. All young men and women wanted to feel they could make their own decisions, set their own course, and his daughter was no different. Most women were already married or had plans for marriage by her age. Keeping her close, allowing her contact with others only when he or another man he trusted accompanied her to town could not last. He wanted to keep her safe, yet needed to let her go. She remained all he had left.
“When will you return?” A lump formed in his throat as he accepted the time had come to allow her more freedom.
“No later than midafternoon.”
He clasped his hands behind his back. “All right.”
“Thank you!” She kissed him once more and rushed from the study before he could change his mind.
~~~~~
Redemption's Edge Page 19
