“So?” Dax prompted.
She took a slow breath, considering her words. “Normal, I guess. When the war ended, I traveled home for a couple of months before starting the journey out here. Nothing much had changed since before the war. Friends still spoke about the same topics—fashion, social affairs, appropriate marriages—as if the relevance of those issues had remained unchanged. I no longer held similar interests. Perhaps I’d seen too much.” She glanced up at him. “Does that make sense?”
It made tremendous sense to Dax, although his neighbors and friends in Savannah had experienced a different type of war than those who lived in Boston. The south had been devastated, while the northeastern seaboard emerged relatively unscathed.
“It’s hard to imagine anyone not touched by the war. You and I experienced the carnage firsthand. Many didn’t.” His voice took on an introspective tone. “I haven’t decided if the experience will make me a better or worse person.”
Rachel absorbed his words, knowing his words could have come from her. She had yet to regain the light, frivolous attitude so much a part of her before the war, and doubted it would ever be within her grasp again. She turned to face him, staring into the depths of his deep gray eyes, and thought she understood what those eyes had beheld.
“From what I’ve seen, General, you are an honorable man and, I’m guessing, a better person for your experiences.” She flashed him a brief smile.
The impact of her words and smile shouldn’t have surprised Dax, yet they did. She had a way about her. The cloying banter, so much a fixture in conversations with women of the South, were lacking in Rachel’s life. Syrupy praise and false platitudes weren’t a part of her character.
“Rachel, I—” Dax’s words were cut off when both turned at the sound of Bull’s voice.
“Boss! You and Miss Davenport ready to head out?”
Dax waved to him. “We’re on our way.” He looked at Rachel. “It’s time we left.” A part of him was glad for the interruption. He wasn’t even certain what he’d been about to say. Rachel’s closeness had Dax wishing for things he’d pushed to the back of his mind, not to be visited until well into his future. She made him want to reexamine what he believed important, including his desire to return to Texas.
Within minutes, they were continuing their journey. All were surprised by the relative ease of the trip. It took over ten hours to reach Big Pine, yet they’d experienced not a single threat, nor had they seen another human being the entire day. They’d taken care of the horses, found rooms, and finished a quiet supper before turning in.
Rachel lay in bed, exhausted and glad half their journey was over. She’d spent most of the time trying not to focus on Dax and his unnerving presence. She’d hoped by walking away from the wagon during their noon meal, she’d be signaling her desire to be alone. A stroll along the river seemed perfect. But, within minutes, he’d come up beside her. It seemed strange how she’d felt, more than heard, his approach. She’d briefly considered telling him she needed space, then thought better of it. After all, he had taken several days of his time to escort them to Big Pine and deserved her appreciation, no matter how unwanted his company.
Their discussion by the river had done nothing except increase her interest in the man. Now, like at home, he haunted her thoughts, making her incapable of sleep. All she asked tonight was to be free of the persistent dream of him entering her room. One night of complete rest, without his presence during her sleep. Was that too much to ask?
Chapter Nine
Big Pine, Montana, the Territorial Capital
“You’re certain I can’t talk you into staying, planting roots in Big Pine?” Sheriff Parker Sterling made his last plea, hoping to lure the young man into signing on as a deputy. The town’s population had exploded over the past few years, making it the choice as the territorial capital. Along with the growth came an increase in incidents of theft and murder.
“I appreciate the offer, but my answer stands.” Gabriel Evans lifted his well over six foot frame from the chair and headed toward the door.
“Gabe?”
He looked over his shoulder at the sheriff.
“What rank were you anyway?”
He didn’t know why people still cared. For whatever reason, they did. “Colonel.”
Gabe walked into the cool night air, looking up and down the street, searching for a quiet place to have a couple of drinks and maybe play cards before turning in. He’d be up early the next morning, ride to Denver, then south again to Texas. He thought he might try his hand at riding as a Texas Ranger. He’d already been through California, staying in San Francisco a few months and working as a deputy before realizing the lifestyle in the bawdy town wasn’t what he sought.
He’d ridden through Utah, stopping briefly in the small settlement of Salt Lake before traveling north. He might not have headed toward Big Pine, except some liquored up fool and his partner jumped him not far from the capital. He’d overpowered them, trussed the men up, and hauled them to Big Pine and Sheriff Sterling. Gabe had been in town a week. Time to move on.
“Good evening, Gabe. What are you looking for tonight?” Dolly, a cute, petite redhead, sashayed his way, offering more than a drink and cards.
He tipped his hat and offered a warm smile. “Hello, Miss Dolly. Thought I’d come by for a whiskey, maybe some poker before I call it a night.”
“Sure there isn’t anything else you want?” She ran a slim finger up his arm.
“Not tonight, sweetheart.” He headed toward a table with an empty chair, nodded to the others, and took a seat as Dolly placed a whiskey before him.
“Let me know if you change your mind.” She shot him a seductive wink before walking away.
He followed her progress, somewhat regretting his decision to decline her offer.
“Looking for a more peaceful evening?” The cowboy dealing had been in the night before when a fight broke out at another table. One man had been shot before Gabe interceded, wrenching the shooter’s arm behind his back and slamming him into a wall. The man collapsed at Gabe’s feet and now sat inside a cell, awaiting trial.
Gabe nodded as he fanned out his cards and threw down a couple. Within the first few hands, he could often tell if luck entered a card game with him, or stayed on the outside. Tonight, she’d stayed by his side. A couple of quiet hours passed with friendly banter, a few drinks, and one winning hand after another for Gabe. He settled up near midnight and walked outside, letting the night breeze wash over him.
Something ate at him. He couldn’t figure out what, although he’d had a nagging feeling in his gut for several days. Maybe he’d ride north, check up on a friend, stay a few days, then leave for Denver.
Gabe strode up the stairs to his hotel room, withdrew his Remington .44 from its holster, and placed it by the bed. He undressed, then fell back onto the bed, finalizing his decision. His obligation in the Colorado town could wait. It had waited for four long years, a few weeks would make no difference. His next stop would be Splendor, Montana.
“What the hell?” Gabe grumbled as he shot straight up in bed. The sound of gunfire split the night air, along with shouts and the rumble of horses thundering down the street. He grabbed his gun and dashed to the window, looking out onto the spectacle below. A group of riders, perhaps six or eight, fired guns into the air and circled in front of the sheriff’s office, demanding the release of the man Gabe had marched to jail the previous night. So far, it appeared all their actions were meant to gain attention and frighten the locals.
Gabe didn’t wait to see if it would escalate. He threw on clothes and stormed out of his room, running smack into another guest, also with gun in hand and a fierce look on his face. They ran down the stairs, stopped at the door, and peered outside.
“We’ll ask them to leave. If they don’t…” The stranger’s voice trailed off as Gabe nodded and indicated with this fingers—one, two, three—and the two burst outside, guns in hand.
“Enough!
Put your guns down.” Gabe’s commanding voice cut through the noise as he and the stranger stood next to each other.
The attackers turned and fired.
The two men aimed their guns, firing bullets around the horse’s legs, causing them to buck.
The two rolled to the ground and reloaded as the attackers aimed in their direction. Gabe finished first, aimed and fired, hitting one of the men in the shoulder. He toppled off his horse. The other man hit his mark in the thigh. The wounded man screamed before sliding to the ground. Gabe and the stranger shot off another round toward the rest who had scattered, leaving their fallen comrades behind.
Gabe rose at a cautious pace, keeping his gun trained on the injured men. He spoke to the man next to him, never taking his eyes off those on the ground.
“Gabe Evans.”
“Dax Pelletier.” He glanced at the men thrashing around on the ground and started to step off the wooden walkway to the dirt street. “Do you have any idea what got them so riled?”
“My guess is they took exception to an arrest made last night. A friend of theirs killed a man.”
Dax kicked one of the men in his injured leg. “Get up.” The man grabbed his leg and screamed. He ignored the man’s agony and looked at the one holding his shoulder. “You, too.” Dax indicated with his gun for the man to stand. He nodded toward the jail. “Let’s go.”
Dax marched the two inside, helping the one who dragged his injured leg and moaned, receiving no compassion for his efforts.
“They need a doctor.” Gabe kept watch outside for the others, hoping they’d be smart enough not to return.
“He stopped by a few hours ago on his way out of town to let me know one of his patients went into labor. It could be hours until he’s back.” The sheriff looked at the injuries. “They don’t look too bad. Probably could let them sit for a while.”
“Hell no, Sheriff. You got to get us some help.” The man with the injured shoulder gritted his teeth, holding his arm to his side.
“Just shut your mouth, Pauley. It’s your own fault you’re in here. What the hell were you thinking anyway?” Sheriff Sterling glared at the young man as he locked the cell door. “Your ma ain’t gonna be too happy with you.”
Pauley dropped onto the wooden bed’s thin mattress and fell back against the wall, careful to land on his good side. “You know you don’t have to tell her, Sheriff.”
“Boy, you know she’s gonna know all about this by morning. There’s nothing I can do to save you from her.” The sheriff walked over to the other man and, along with Gabe, carried him into another cell. “Irving, you’re old enough to know better than to do what those others tell you.”
“I know, Sheriff. I don’t know what got into me.” Irving lay flat on the mattress, pressing a hand to his injured leg and whimpering with each movement.
“Do either of you even know that man?” Sheriff Sterling pointed to the prisoner in the third cell. Irving and Pauley each mumbled something unintelligible, indicating they didn’t know the man they’d gotten shot over. “That’s what I thought.” The sheriff’s disgusted tone told them how he felt about their stupidity. “Who else was out there tonight?”
“Don’t know their names and I’ve never seen them before. They rode into town tonight. We met them at the saloon and they mentioned how one of their pals got thrown in jail.” Irving tried to sit up, then fell back. “Things got a little blurry with all the whiskey being passed around.”
“Did you get a name?” Sterling asked.
Irving rubbed his throbbing temple. “One of them mentioned someone.” He squeezed his eyes tight in an attempt to think. “I don’t think he was with them, though. It’s all fuzzy.”
“You must remember something.” Hands on hips, the sheriff glared at Irving, still mystified as to why they’d let themselves get talked into such a misadventure.
“Blake, or something like that,” Pauley shouted from his cell.
“No,” Irving called back. “It began with a ‘D’. I’m sure of that.”
“Yeah, that’s it. They called him Drake,” Pauley said, then fell silent.
Dax’s head snapped around toward the cells. “Are you sure the name you heard was Drake?” He spit out the words, staring into the prisoner’s eyes.
“Uh…yes, sir.” Pauley flinched away from the hard, cold stare of the man outside the cell. “That’s what I heard.”
“Shit.” Dax cursed under his breath. “Gentleman.” He looked at the sheriff and Gabe. “I’d better get back to the hotel. I’ll send over a friend of mine to check on the prisoners. He’s a doctor.”
“Wait a minute.” Sheriff Sterling walked up beside him. “Do you know the one they call Drake?”
“Maybe. If he’s the man I know, he works for a rancher named Tolbert back in Splendor.”
Gabe shifted his eyes to Dax’s at the name of the biggest rancher in the area, and the town where his friend lived. “Are you talking about King Tolbert?”
“You know him?”
“Everyone in Montana has heard of King Tolbert.” Sterling leaned a hip against his desk and crossed his arms. “The man even owns property around Big Pine. Doesn’t run cattle here, at least not yet. I heard someone say he might be looking to buy a couple of the businesses in town. How do you know him?”
“My brother and I own a ranch north of Splendor. His hired gun is named Drake and we suspect he’s behind some of the shootings we’ve been having in town.” Dax looked back toward the cells, then turned his gaze on Gabe. “Are you familiar with Splendor?”
“A friend lives there. Noah Brandt.”
“The blacksmith?”
Gabe nodded.
“Don’t know him well. From what I can tell, those who do think real highly of him.”
“I’m on my way to Splendor. A stopover, nothing more.”
“Why don’t you ride back with us after we finish our business?”
“Us? Who’s with you?” Gabe asked.
“Doctor Worthington and his niece, Miss Davenport.”
“That wouldn’t be the nurse, would it?” A vague smile flicked across Gabe’s face. A smile Dax didn’t like.
“It would. How do you know her?”
“Never met her, but Noah sent me a letter a few months back, saying a real attractive nurse arrived in town. It was his way of trying to draw me back. You know, I might take you up on the offer to ride along. It’s sometimes better to move in a small group rather than alone.”
Less than forty-eight hours later, the group rode out of Big Pine, leaving the sheriff to wait for the territorial judge to arrive and oversee the murder trial of the man Gabe had brought in a few nights before. Sterling had already sent the two younger miscreants home to face the wrath of their mothers.
Once more, Dax took the lead with Bull at the back. This time, however, Gabe rode alongside the wagon, maintaining a watchful eye on their surroundings while keeping up a running conversation with Rachel and Charles. Every once in a while, Dax would turn in his saddle so he could judge the wagon’s progress. Each time, half of Gabe’s attention focused on locating any dangers, the other half focused on Rachel.
At noon, they broke for lunch. This time, Rachel stayed close to the wagon. Bull, Gabe, and Dax posted themselves around the perimeter, no one believing they’d make it to Splendor without a visit from either Drake’s men or the renegades who had attacked the settlers a week before.
Dax glanced at Rachel, wishing she’d stayed in Splendor. He’d mentioned it to her before they’d left home, saying they could pick up the supplies, talk to the sheriff, and she could stay in town to treat anyone who came to the clinic. She refused, telling him he could stay if he wanted, but she had no intention of staying behind. He’d let it go. Now he had a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach. During the war, he paid close attention to his body’s reaction to anything which seemed out of the ordinary and he found himself doing the same today. Trouble taunted them, he’d bet his last dollar on it.
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br /> “We need to pick up the pace the remainder of the trip, Charles. Do you think you can keep up?” Dax took off his hat and set it on the wagon seat, continuing his scan of the surrounding hills.
“Don’t worry about us. We’ll keep up.” Charles capped his canteen. “You expecting trouble?”
Dax cast a look at the doctor. “Just being cautious. The closer we get to Splendor, the faster someone can ride for help if needed.” He grabbed his hat and settled it on his head.
Charles understood the gravity of their situation. He’d treated the two cowboys Gabe and Dax had shot, listening as they spoke of the men who’d caused the disturbance and threatened to break their friend out of jail. Their words gave a chilling image of men without conscience, believing they had a right to challenge and intimidate others while being entitled to impunity for their own actions.
“We’ll be ready.” Charles climbed onto the wagon and turned to Rachel. “Get your gun out of your bag. We may need it.” He pulled his rifle out from under the seat and set it next to him.
Bull and Gabe mounted their horses, this time both riding toward the back, one on either side of the wagon. They had at least four hours left on their journey—it would seem like much longer by the time they arrived in Splendor.
They’d traveled two more hours, when Bull spotted dust rising from a hill to their right. “Riders!” He pointed toward several horses cresting the hill and riding toward them at a full gallop.
The instructions from Dax had been clear—don’t run, hold their positions and, if shot upon, kill as many attackers as possible. Charles pulled the wagon to a stop and secured the reins as Rachel jumped off. She slid onto her stomach under the wagon and took aim at the approaching riders, who’d leveled their guns and began to shoot.
“Let your horses go.” Dax’s stern command could be heard over the gunfire. Bull and Gabe dismounted and took positions next to Charles on the opposite side of the wagon as shots pelleted the ground. He looked around and spotted Rachel under the wagon, hoping she’d be safe.
Redemption's Edge: Book 1, Redemption Mountain Historical Western Romance Page 12
