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

by Shirleen Davies

  Dax shook his head and concentrated on the rut-filled trail ahead. There were few fences in this wide expanse of rangeland. The only sign he’d entered the ranch appeared on a large boulder with one word, HANES, painted near the top. No matter what Dax and Luke decided to do, keep the place or sell it, the name would remain on that rock as a reminder of the man who’d died before having the chance to enjoy his land.

  The wind picked up as he continued, sending a chill clear through him, which didn’t ease the remainder of the journey. Dax supposed he should be grateful the rain Clausen warned him to expect didn’t appear.

  He’d been traveling about an hour when a large barn and house came into view. A woman stood at the back of the home, taking clothes from the line, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare as she turned in his direction. Dax lifted a hand and waved. She didn’t respond as she dropped the clothes in a basket and walked toward the front of the house, always keeping him in sight. Dax could hear her yelling before a short and stocky older man appeared from the barn, holding a rifle in his hand.

  Dax nodded to both as he pulled the wagon to a stop and jumped down.

  “Hold it there, mister. What business do you have out here?” The man didn’t raise the gun, although his words held a warning.

  “My name’s Dax Pelletier. My brother, Luke, and I worked with Pat Hanes down in Texas.”

  He saw the woman glance toward the back of the wagon, then cast a worried gaze to the man who Dax assumed to be her husband, Hank Wilson, the man Clausen mentioned during their meeting.

  “We were chasing a gang of bank robbers when Pat got shot. He didn’t make it.” Dax nodded at the coffin. “We brought him home to be buried.”

  The woman gasped and hurried toward the wagon. The man took longer to absorb the news, taking slow steps to join the woman.

  “I’ve got a letter from our captain at the Ranger office in Austin.” He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled it out. “Would you like to read it?”

  The man took the letter from Dax’s hand and read through it. “I’m Hank Wilson. This is my wife, Bernice. We’ve been running the place with the help of the ranch hands while Pat finished up his duties in Texas.” He took a deep breath. “Guess our work here is over.”

  “I wouldn’t count on it. Did Pat ever mention his will? His plans for the place if he died?”

  “He did. I suppose you and your brother are the new owners.”

  Dax didn’t explain how he wanted no part of the place and had known nothing of the terms in Pat’s will. “We are.”

  “Then you’ll probably be wanting to run things how you see fit, hire your own people. It’ll take us a few days to pack up.”

  Dax understood the uncertainty the man felt. “Let’s talk about all that after we bury Pat. Do you know if he had a place in mind?”

  “There’s a patch out back of the house he mentioned would make a fine place to rest. Guess that’s where he’d want to be. I’ll get a shovel.”

  “Two, if you have them.” Dax climbed up on the seat, turned the wagon, and followed Bernice toward the site Hank mentioned.

  The two men worked for an hour digging the grave, while Bernice notified the hands not out tending the herd of Pat’s death. She sent one into town for the minister. By the time Dax and Hank were finished and had lowered the coffin into the grave, the others were assembled and the preacher stood staring down onto the pine box, holding his bible.

  “I met Mr. Hanes just once, but I’ll do my best to say the right words for the man.” Reverend Paige opened his bible.

  Bernice walked up and whispered in the preacher’s ear, then stepped back.

  “It’s good to know, Mrs. Wilson, that Mr. Hanes was a God-fearing man.”

  The service didn’t take long. Everyone took a handful of dirt and dropped it on the coffin. Two of the ranch hands took over the job of filling the grave, while the others walked toward the house in a solemn procession. Reverend Paige took coffee, then excused himself for the ride back to Splendor. The others stayed inside, recounting a few stories and speculating about the ranch’s future.

  Dax counted six people in total—Hank and Bernice, plus four other men. The rest were out with the herd. From what he’d learned as he listened to their conversations, Pat provided room and board, plus a few dollars a month for them to keep watch over the place, make repairs, and tend the herd. From what Dax knew, the arrangement seemed standard for most ranches. At least no one seemed anxious to leave.

  “What are your plans, Mr. Pelletier?” One of the men, Dax believed he’d introduced himself as Ellis, stood next to him, looking out the front window toward the barn.

  “I don’t know for certain.” He wanted to say what he felt, that he’d get the hell out of here and head back to Texas, but kept it to himself. “My brother and I need to talk about all this.” He turned toward the others, who he suspected would have the same question.

  “Guess you’re all wondering what will happen next.” He saw a couple of heads nod. “The best I can say is I’m not certain. I’d like all of you to stay, at least through the spring and summer, until my brother and I figure this out. Same jobs, same pay as with Pat. If you decide to leave, let Hank know.” He set down his glass and looked toward the foreman. “I’m heading back to town for the night, Hank. I’ll be back tomorrow and will plan to stay here for a while.” He glanced at Bernice. “Is that going to be problem?”

  “Not at all. The house has several bedrooms. I’ll get two ready for you.”

  Dax glanced back at Hank. “We’ll talk again tomorrow.”

  “What do you think?” Rachel asked Charles as she stood over Luke, pressing a cold cloth to his forehead, watching the occasional flutter of his eyelids. The sun had set hours before, yet both remained in the room, keeping watch on Luke. They’d tried to get some broth down him without success.

  “The fever is lower and he isn’t as agitated. His breathing is no longer erratic. I believe this boy may make it. We’ll need to keep him another couple of days. Sometimes a relapse occurs. I don’t want him back on the trail before we know he’s beaten the fever.” Charles dropped into a chair. “At least there’s been no other emergencies to distract us.”

  “Let me get you something to eat.” Rachel turned toward the door.

  “I’m not hungry, Rachel.”

  “You ate little of the stew and I can see you’re tired. What about letting me stay here for a while so you can lay down? I’ll call if there’s a change.”

  Charles stood. “Perhaps you’re right.”

  Rachel watched him walk the short distance to their house and disappear inside. She let her eyes drift down to focus on her patient. He had dark hair, but not jet black like his brother. It was more of a deep auburn. The few times he’d opened his eyes, she’d seen they were a deep caramel color, while Dax’s were steel gray. She imagined the older Pelletier could stop a conversation with just a look.

  “General…,” Luke muttered and tossed his head, then fell silent.

  “You’re all right, Mr. Pelletier. You’re safe.” Rachel kept her voice low and calm.

  “General…”

  “He’s asking for me.”

  Rachel turned to see Dax Pelletier standing in the doorway. For some reason, she hadn’t realized how tall he stood, well over six feet. He’d taken a bath. His damp, black hair had been slicked back and a clean shirt clung to his still moist skin.

  “Luke calls me that sometimes when he wants to get under my skin.” He placed his hat on a nearby chair and walked over to stand next to Rachel. “How’s he doing?”

  His deep voice washed over her, sending a slight shiver through her body. She took a step backward, creating distance, before answering. “The fever is down a little more since you left. He’s stopped grabbing his head and his color is better, but he still won’t take much broth. Overall, it’s encouraging.” She walked to a basin and soaked the cloth once more, before placing it on Luke’s forehead.

/>   “Were you a general in the war?”

  He didn’t like to talk of his rank or war experience, yet believed it discourteous to ignore her question. “The last several months, yes.”

  “And Luke? Did he serve also?”

  “He was a major.”

  Dax watched her work, her concise movements full of compassion, yet he could sense a rod of steel at her core. He bet she’d be a formidable force if someone challenged her.

  Rachel didn’t know if exhaustion or the elevated warmth in the room had her on edge. She ran her fingers under the collar of her dress to loosen it, hoping no one else would detect the slight shake in her hands. She hadn’t noticed it herself until Dax appeared. It was an unwelcome realization.

  “Do you have a room yet?” Her words came out sharper than intended, yet they had the desired result. Dax stepped away from her.

  “Yes. I’m staying at the boardinghouse.”

  “Good, then we know how to contact you. It would be best if you got a good night’s sleep. My uncle or I will come for you, if needed.” She walked to the other side of the table and raised her eyes to the door. “Goodnight, Mr. Pelletier.” Rachel then let her gaze lower to her patient.

  “Are you dismissing me, Miss Davenport?”

  His stern question, devoid of warmth or humor, grabbed Rachel’s attention. She looked up to see hard, gray eyes, which had turned the color of gun metal, trained on her, challenging. She imagined this to be the same look he used when commanding troops.

  Rachel sighed. “My apologies. I must be tired.”

  Dax let his gaze wander over her face, noting the lines around her eyes for the first time. Even though her stance and expression indicated exhaustion, Rachel Davenport’s beauty couldn’t be hidden. She possessed an almost regal quality that captivated him.

  “What do you do when you must tend to more than one patient?”

  She understood his point as her lips curved upward. “Become a complete witch, I believe.”

  He nodded and grabbed his hat as his hand grasped the door knob. “Goodnight, Miss Davenport. I will see you in the morning.” He shot a glance at Luke, then let his gaze settle on Rachel for a moment before closing the door behind him.

  “How is our patient this morning?”

  Rachel stirred at the sound of her uncle’s voice. She sat up in the chair where she’d slept all night, and rubbed her eyes while looking toward Luke, seeing his color had returned. “He hasn’t made a sound in several hours.”

  Charles bent over Luke, checking his temperature, eyes, and color, concurring with Rachel’s comment. “Good,” he murmured. “Very good. It seems his fever has broken. We may be able to send Mr. Pelletier on his way a little earlier than I first thought.”

  Luke stirred at the sound of voices, opened his eyes, blinked a few times, and groaned. “I feel awful.” He tried to sit up, then slid back onto the bed.

  “That will pass, young man.” The doctor held up a glass of water, while supporting Luke’s head. “Give it a few more days and you’ll feel like your old self.”

  “Let’s hope I’m better than that.” Luke tried to swing his legs off the bed.

  “Hold on a minute. I don’t believe you’re ready to leave us yet.”

  “No offense, Doc, but I’m more than ready. I’ll not take up any more of your time than I already have.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s my brother?”

  The doctor stepped back and shifted his gaze to his niece. “Do you know where he’s staying?”

  “At the boardinghouse down the street.”

  “Good. I believe you should head down there. Let’s see if he can talk some sense into his brother.”

  They turned at the sound of a brisk knock on the outside door. Rachel pulled the door open to lock eyes on the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Dax Pelletier, looking every bit the ex-military officer. He’d shaved the stubble from his face and stood erect, holding his hat, but the look of concern remained.

  “Come in, Mr. Pelletier.” He stepped past her. “Or do you prefer General?” Rachel knew she taunted the man, which she never did in her capacity as a nurse. She placed a hand over her mouth in an attempt to stop from embarrassing herself further.

  He stopped at her words. “For most, I prefer Dax or Mr. Pelletier. For you, however, I’ll make an exception. General will be fine.” He turned toward the exam room door, a vague smile playing across his face.

  “Ah, Mr. Pelletier. My niece and I were just speaking of you.” The doctor motioned toward Luke, who’d made his way to a nearby chair and was attempting to pull up his pants, nearly toppling over in the process. “As you can see, he’s doing much better today. The fever’s broken and his color has returned, but he insists on leaving.”

  “Now.” Luke didn’t look up from the task of pulling on his boots.

  “Well, I…” the doctor began, then stopped as Dax reached past him to help Luke.

  “You sure about this?” he asked his brother.

  “Yes.”

  “If that’s what you want, we’ll go. What do I owe you?” Dax reached into his pocket as the doctor named a figure, then handed him the amount, plus extra. “Thank you.” He shifted his gaze to Rachel. “Both of you.”

  He helped Luke stand and, noticing he didn’t seem too steady, helped him outside. Luke raised a hand to shield his eyes from the bright sunshine. After being inside and flat on his back for he wasn’t sure how long, the fresh air felt good, even if he did have some trouble keeping his balance.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’ll settle up at the boardinghouse, then we can ride out to our new ranch.”

  Luke stopped, slack-jawed, and stared at Dax. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “We own Pat’s ranch. He had a will stating if he died, whoever brought him back to Splendor inherited the ranch.”

  “Ah, hell.”

  Dax didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. Luke could see the look of disgust pass over his face.

  They still owned extensive property in Savannah and hadn’t yet made the decision when they’d return to claim it. In the meantime, Luke had made provisions for their former slaves to work the land and keep up the house as paid help. The Pelletier money would keep everything going for a long time, perhaps indefinitely if Polly and George, the married couple who ran the place, did what they promised. For the ex-slaves, profits meant ownership, the right to claim land once they’d built it to a certain level, then continued to expand. Dax and Luke had no doubt the couple would work hard to become true property owners.

  And now this.

  “What do you want to do?” Luke asked.

  “Right now? Nothing. We’ll stay at the ranch for a few weeks to make sure it’s going well and to give ourselves time to make a decision about selling.”

  “Pat said it’s a small place. Probably be easy to sell.” Luke stepped up onto the wooden walkway outside the boardinghouse, holding the rail for support, then turned to Dax when he heard him snort. “What?”

  “It’s somewhat bigger than we both thought.”

  “How much bigger?”

  “Five thousand acres.”

  After stopping at the bank so Luke could sign the necessary papers, they saddled Hannibal and Prince for the ride to the ranch, Luke insisting he could handle his horse. They arrived at the ranch in the afternoon. Luke had been able to keep up the modest pace most of the time, although a thirty minute ride had doubled when Dax made a couple of excuses to stop. No matter. They had nowhere else to go. Each had taken a leave from their jobs as Texas Rangers. Their captain had insisted on it, requesting they keep him posted about when they’d return.

  Bernice stepped off the porch, stuffed a towel into her apron, and waited for the men to dismount. She nodded to Dax, then turned to Luke. “I’m Bernice Wilson. You must be Luke, Dax’s brother.”

  He slid off Prince, steadied himself, and doffed his hat. “Yes, ma’am. I’m pleased to meet you.”

  �
�You still look a little peaked. Why don’t you come inside and rest. I’ll get you something to drink.” She turned toward the house, then called over her shoulder at Dax. “You, too.”

  Dax tipped his hat to Bernice, but stayed in place. “You go on in. Sounds like Hank may be in the barn. I’ll take care of the horses and let him know we’re here.” He grabbed Prince’s reins and walked toward the barn, stopping when he heard voices coming from inside.

  “I don’t know, Hank. Seems to me the man’s got no business running a ranch. Besides, I think he’s a Johnny Reb, and you know that won’t go over well with the men.”

  “As Pelletier said, you can stay or leave. Makes no difference to me what side he fought on. It’s over and time to forget about it, Ellis. But if you can’t, then it’d be best for you to pack your gear and go.”

  “How do we know they have the money to run a place like this? They were working as Texas Rangers. Those men don’t have two nickels to rub together.”

  “Seems to me you’re making a lot of assumptions. Pat wouldn’t have asked them to bring him home if he thought poorly of them and you know it.”

  “Don’t know why he didn’t leave the place to you. Seems fitting after all you and Bernice have done.”

  “You know the reason. We don’t want it. Working here is good enough for us and we hope to stay on. You’d better do some hard thinking pretty quick as I need to find someone else if you leave.”

  Dax stood his ground, taking it all in and not interrupting. He heard footsteps and guessed Ellis had decided to leave, and perhaps consider Hank’s words. Dax pulled on the reins and stepped inside the barn, passing Ellis on his way out.

  “Boss.” Ellis didn’t make eye contact as he continued on toward the bunkhouse.