The Outsider

by Rosalyn West

  Chapter 19

  He woke from a panicked dream of drowning in the blood of those he’d led into battle.

  Shaky and breathing hard, Dodge glanced at his watch. It was just after midnight; he’d been home for over two hours. And he was still alone.

  Unable to close his eyes again for fear of seeing the familiar death-ravaged features from his nightmare, he dressed, and using his crutches for support, went into the darkened front room. There his restlessness couldn’t be contained. What would Starla think, arriving home to find him up, pacing the house? That he was waiting up for her? That he didn’t trust her?

  Within minutes he was unlocking the door of the bank, seeking to lose himself in the challenge of business. He lit only the lamp at his desk, where he found Deacon Sinclair’s predicament awaiting his solution. The problem was, he couldn’t seem to find one.

  Plagued by images of driving the frail Hannah Sinclair from her family home while Patrice spat on him, he went over the papers again, making notes to himself on a separate sheet until he’d exhausted every possibility, and himself in the process. Knowing he was missing something, but no closer to an actual solution, he rubbed his eyes and consulted his watch. Almost two. Surely Starla would be home by now.

  Yawning, he gathered his work in a pile and dropped it into his desk drawer, locking it securely. Deacon’s problems would have to wait until morning. Tyler Fairfax left him no easy course of action, except maybe to go right to the source.

  He never expected that source to come to him quite so soon.

  He bent to fit the key into the outside doorlock. A sudden smothering darkness enveloped him from behind as a sack was pulled over his head, muffling his curse and blinding him to the identity of his attackers. The door was wrenched open and he was thrown down onto the floor. He heard the sound of at least five pairs of footsteps coming inside after him—and felt the impact of five different boots meeting his ribs and face.

  Sucking air through the coarse weave of the sack and the thickness of his own blood, he was dragged up to his feet to greet the fists of his faceless tormentors, cowards all. Finally, when he hung by his pinned elbows, close to insensible, he heard a fierce voice he recognized from the curses hurled at him that afternoon.

  “Try to steal my life away, will you? Well, there’s my note paid in full.” Papers were shoved down Dodge’s torn shirtfront. Gritty laughter mixed with the ringing in his ears. “Now, I’m giving you until the end of the week to move the hell out of town, you sonofabitch, or we’ll be back for more.”

  The moment his arms were released, he crumpled to the floor, his awareness waxing and waning. He felt the vibration of heavy bootsteps leaving the bank until the last man knelt down to whisper, “How can you expect to protect her when you can’t protect yourself?”

  And with Tyler Fairfax’s question swirling through his mind, Dodge lost consciousness.

  For Starla, the evening put an end to a fairy tale: Noble Banning, her handsome ideal, smiling, laughing, unchanged by the years except for a certain tightness about his mouth, a hint of sadness around his eyes. She’d been so wildly in love with him, she’d have stood on her head naked on the front lawn to get his attention.

  But she could never quite win it. How that had broken her young girl’s heart so many years ago. Though she’d understood why she wasn’t good enough to deserve him, she’d hoped she was worthy of one fine thing in her life, and Noble was all she’d dreamed of. Noble, in his Confederate gray, coming back from the war to sweep her away from her abysmal life.

  But of course, that had all changed. Circumstances were different now.

  The evening could have been a dream, adrift upon sweet memories and golden moments, stirring tender sentiments and wistful sighs of what had been, what almost was … could have been but wasn’t, because the focus of those dreams was no longer Noble Banning.

  She wore the red dress for her husband. Her excitement, her anticipation, her enjoyment of the evening wasn’t due to the return of an old friend and an unrequited fancy; it was due to a very real opportunity to grab onto what Patrice had called the best thing ever to happen to her. It was her chance to move on to the kind of life, the kind of love, she’d also dreamed might exist, if only she were worthy.

  A life with Dodge.

  Though his earlier tender passion had given her every reason to hope, perhaps she was still dreaming. For Dodge’s odd behavior had put a halt to her anticipation.

  She thought at first it was jealousy, and that prospect delighted her. What woman didn’t want her husband to bristle around other attractive men?

  But when she’d come upon him and Reeve on the Glade’s wide porch and his dark eyes had made that erroneous assumption in connecting her to the man serving as her escort, she’d seen the truth. Jealousy didn’t imply caring, it smacked of possession. Dodge wasn’t agitated because Noble was an attractive man, he was anxious because he feared he had cause for worry. He feared she would betray him.

  Because he didn’t believe for a minute what she’d been trying to show him all evening long. That he, not some long past ideal, was the man she wanted with all her heart and soul.

  She’d been nothing more than a pretty possession her entire life. Here, she thought, for the first time, she was more to the man she’d married. She could let down the pretense, she could risk being herself. She could embrace the idea of happiness after a lifetime of wondering if it was something not meant for her.

  She was wrong: his idea of the future and hers were two very different things.

  As Noble drove her home beneath the moonlight and the stars, everything might have been perfect. But only had they been two different people.

  “You look well,” he told her.

  Starla smiled. “I am.”

  “Marriage seems to suit you. You’re even more beautiful than I remember.”

  There’d been a time when she’d have killed to hear those words, but now she merely smiled again and heard herself say, “I’m going to have a baby.”

  At first he appeared shocked by the idea, then he nodded. “Good for you.”

  And Starla saw for the first time that it could be. She’d viewed her pregnancy, when forced to think about it at all, as a curse, a punishment for her failure to live a proper life. She felt no attachment to the child, no excitement about her baby and its eventual arrival. But sitting there on the buggy seat with a man she’d once loved with her whole heart, she placed her palms over the smooth hug of her gown where life would soon begin its altering contours, and she felt a stirring of contentment. This child had brought her to a new beginning, and she was just starting to realize what a fortuitous event that was.

  If only she could hold onto it.

  “How’d you end up marrying a Yankee?”

  She shot him an arch look. “How’d you end up wearing the uniform of one?”

  He laughed but didn’t answer her question. “He seems like a good man.”

  “He is. The best.”

  Noble’s smile grew bittersweet. “He’s a lucky man.”

  Starla laughed softly. “No, I’m the lucky one.” How funny to figure out, finally, how true that was. In spite of his behavior, in spite of her concerns, she wanted nothing less than a lifetime with her banker husband.

  Their carriage spun by the lane leading down to the pond where Dodge had kissed her and awakened her to the dawning of passion. Funny, how the direction of life changed, even when one was not aware of it.

  “And you?” she asked the man beside her. “There’s been no woman lucky enough to capture your heart?”

  A month before, even a week or a day before, she might not have noticed the melancholy in his smile.

  “Not yet.”

  There was someone. Someone who’d broken the heart of Pride County’s most eligible heartbreaker. Hers melted, thinking of his unhappiness. Hugging his arm and leaning against him, she vowed, “Don’t give up on love so soon. It’ll find you when you least expect it.”
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  She was proof of that, wasn’t she?

  “Dodge?” She looked around the bedroom, finding it as empty as the rest of the house. “Tony?”

  His evening clothes were neatly hung away. The covers were in a terrible twist, the pillows on the floor. His cane was at the bedside, but his crutches were gone.

  It was one o’clock in the morning. Where could he be?

  Sighing, she realized he’d probably gone to the bank.

  There were things she wanted to discuss with him, things she’d put off too long. Things like what they were going to name their baby. Things more important than the way he’d wounded her with his actions this evening.

  She was the one who’d steadfastly denied him everything. Why should she be surprised that he’d be hard to convince of her sudden change of heart?

  She had to convince him, and soon. She had less than thirty days to get her life in Pride in order, to establish a family foundation strong enough to support her past mistakes.

  Thinking he’d be home soon, she curled up on the chaise in the parlor to wait, tucking up the voluminous skirts that he’d wanted to take off her. When she opened her eyes, it was daylight … and she was still alone.

  Anxious, annoyed, and even a bit alarmed, she threw a light cloak on over her evening gown and started for the bank.

  From the sleepy early morning sidewalks of Pride, nothing looked amiss inside the bank. A single light burned on Dodge’s desk, but he wasn’t at it. Starla tried the door and found it unlocked.

  “Tony?”

  His crutches were on the floor. She paused to pick up a flour sack lying next to them. Something dark and now dried stained its weave. She stared at that stain, certain it was meaningful, but the significance escaped her.

  Perhaps he’d gone into the back and fallen asleep on the cot. But without his crutches?

  Sure enough, he was stretched out on the poorly slung frame, his face turned toward the wall.

  “I declare, can’t you get enough of this place during the day that you have to sleep here at night, as well?” She made her tone light to disguise her hurt that he hadn’t come home. “You’ve just enough time to change and wash up and get back here before business hours.” She knelt down and took his shoulder, tipping him onto his back. His head lolled. She got her first good look at him. “Oh, my God. Tony!”

  His features were mottled with an array of bruises and smears of blood.

  Pausing only long enough to make sure he was breathing, Starla raced to gather cold water and clean cloths. As she dabbed at the nasty split discoloring the corner of one eye, he groaned and began to come around. She caught his hands as they flailed wildly.

  “It’s all right, Tony. It’s me.”

  He blinked his eyes open, struggling for focus. Unwisely, he tried to sit up, falling back, clutching at his ribs with a low moan. Starla continued to clean him up, holding her breath as the true damage became clear. He had a bad gash by his eye, a split in his lip, puffy swellings on both cheek and jaw.

  “Who did this to you?”

  He closed his eyes, his attention drifting. Suddenly it was very important to Starla to learn who’d beaten her husband. She wrung the wet cloth out over his face, the sprinkling of water rousing him once more.

  “Tony, who did this?”

  He pushed the cloth away, still ignoring her question. This time, she knew he’d understood her. And she knew the answer.

  Her brother.

  “Tyler did this?” she cried in outrage, shocked, then furious. Dodge still wasn’t talking. He attempted to rise again, and again dropped back, hugging his middle. “Let me take a look. Did they break anything?” She assumed it was a “they,” not believing Tyler alone could have inflicted so much damage. Not believing he’d have acted alone to do such a thing.

  He fended her off, muttering, “I’m fine. Don’t. Let me alone. Don’t need your help.”

  “Whether you need it or not, you’re going to lie there and take it. Now stop being so foolish and let me see.”

  She jerked up his shirt a bit roughly, earning his sharp gasp, the sight of his chest making her echo it in dismay. She pressed one of the vivid bruises, causing him to wince.

  “I’m going for the doctor.”

  “No. Just get me home.”

  “You’re not going to move until Doc Anderson tells me none of your ribs is broken. So don’t you move, you hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, too hurt, too weak to do much else.

  Reluctant to leave him, she touched his sore face, her emotions twisting. Then, bending quick to kiss his brow, she hurried for the doctor’s home, knowing it was too early to find him in his office.

  And after she sent him grumbling in the wrap of his night robe and slippers to get dressed, Starla knew of another stop she’d have to make before going back to her husband’s side.

  Everything hurt. Breathing hurt, moving hurt, even thinking hurt.

  After Doc Anderson poked and prodded and pried, then pronounced no serious damage had been done, Dodge had gotten his battered ribs taped and had two small stitches taken at the corner of his eye. He’d obediently swallowed down some powders for the pain and was waiting impatiently for them to begin to work as he dragged himself across the bank on his crutches in complete defiance of the doctor’s orders to stay abed. Being beaten insensible wasn’t something to take lying down.

  There on his desk was the note on Emmerick’s farm and enough cash to see it paid in full. Both were blotched with his blood. Falling into his chair with a groaning curse, he pulled out his ledger and registered the payment dutifully, angrily. He didn’t have to wonder how Emmerick had gotten the money. Tyler Fairfax and his Home Guard friends had gotten to him, paying his loan in exchange for recruiting his favors. He wondered if Emmerick realized which would be the more costly in the long run. In ignorance, he’d join Fairfax’s band of night riders to terrorize other small farm families like his own, bullying them and scaring them from using the resources at the bank, from trusting the lawful avenues proscribed by the new federal government. Making Fairfax and those like Banning’s father who silently supported his efforts more powerful. And more dangerous with each success.

  Dodge could see what was coming: those brave few who’d begun to trust him would shy away, once news of the beating was circulated. They’d be watching, waiting, to see how their town’s banker dealt with the brutality leveled upon him. Would he bow before the intimidation and sneak away? Or would he stay on in foolhardy disregard for his safety?

  His safety wasn’t his concern. It was Starla he worried about.

  How can you protect her when you can’t even protect yourself?

  How, indeed?

  A show of strength and retaliation was all men like Emmerick and the Dermonts understood. Dodge knew he’d have to do something quick, or risk losing the confidence he’d begun to inspire in the meek and helpless of Pride. But to strike back meant going up against the one man he’d hoped to avoid in confrontation. He’d have to go after Tyler Fairfax, and in doing so, he’d break Starla’s heart. He might also lose her.

  If he hadn’t already….

  When she’d bent over to kiss him on his bed of pain, he’d seen she still wore the red dress from the night before. Which meant she hadn’t been home to change. And with her closeness, she’d brought an unmistakable scent, the spicy fragrance of Noble Banning’s cologne.

  Where the hell had his wife been all night while he was getting his ribs kicked in by her brother?

  He lowered his head into his hands, not wanting to think about it just yet, not while he was so distracted by the hurts of both body and soul. He’d vowed he’d trust her, and though that vow was strained to frail threads, it was enough to hold until he had a chance to speak to her, to ask her for the truth.

  Yet when had she ever told him that?

  The door to the bank opened and he gazed up wearily, hoping to see Starla there. He couldn’t imagine where she’d gone aft
er fetching Anderson, unless it was home for some fresh clothing and some needed rest. It wounded him to think she wouldn’t at least check in to see how he was doing, to see if he was in danger of spitting up his lungs, thanks to Tyler’s tender touch. But she hadn’t come, and she wasn’t here now.

  It was Delyce Dermont in the doorway. Her usually pale features were stark white with shock and distress.

  “Delyce, what is it?” A terrible fear gripped his insides.

  “Mr. Dodge, you’d better hurry. Something awful’s happened to your wife. The doc’s with her now.”

  Oh, God….

  “Where is she?”

  “At Fair Play.”

  He didn’t wait to hear more.

  Chapter 20

  The Dermont brothers lounged on the front steps of Fair Play like a pack of dirty hunting hounds. Empty bottles scattered about their feet testified to what the nose claimed on closer inspection: they were all drunk. Their clothing bore stains of all-night revelry and spatters of her husband’s blood.

  Starla approached in a glaze of fury that overwhelmed any fear she’d had of coming home.

  Ray Dermont sat up, his sloppy smile little more than a leer as he beheld her red dress.

  “Well, g’morning, missy. Up early or out late?”

  “Where’s my brother?”

  “I do believe he went to round us up some more refreshments. Care to tip a few with us, Starla honey?”

  “You’ve had more than enough, of our liquor and my tolerance. You’d better crawl on outta here. Be gone by the time I’m finished talking to Tyler, or I’ll take a buggy whip to you.”

  He laughed off her threat, a nasty gleam of speculation flickering in his eyes. “Hear that, boys? She’s gonna teach us some manners.”

  Poteet chuckled. Virg let out a loud snore.

  Ray continued. “Tried to learn ’em once, but they didn’t take. ‘Course, we didn’t have a teacher purty as you. Bet you’re mighty good at them lessons.” He licked his lips as she climbed past him on the cement stairs. His hand caught her skirt. “Mighty fancy get-up. Steppin’ out on your Yankee already?” She jerked away from him.