Courage Canyon

by Shirleen Davies

  The reality of what they were doing shoved through his hazed mind enough for him to break the kiss. Resting his forehead against hers, he forced himself to back away.

  She stared at him, confusion clear in her expression.

  He glanced behind him, glad for the dark night. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen.”

  Rosemary didn’t know how to respond. The last thing she expected when entering the barn was for Dirk to join her. His stern manner, arrogance, and overbearing ways had irritated her from their first meeting. She hadn’t liked it…hadn’t liked him. Then he’d kissed her. Touching a finger to her still tingling lips, she could feel her face flush.

  “It’s all right.” And it was. She enjoyed the kiss. More than she should.

  He shook his head, all arrogance gone. “No, Rosemary, it isn’t. I’m supposed to protect you.”

  Pursing her lips, she walked forward, stopping next to him on her way outside. “You have been protecting me. It’s all you’ve done since we met.” Seeing the surprise on his face, she felt a slight amount of satisfaction. Continuing past him, she glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to walk me to the house?” Seeing his jaw go slack, she stifled a laugh.

  Moving up beside her, Dirk cupped her elbow. “I’d be honored.”

  Dirk took another walk around the barn, stopping to study the areas beyond the corrals before returning to his spot on the bench. Leaning his back against the side of the barn, he settled the rifle across his thighs. Stretching out his long legs, he sighed, replaying the events of the evening.

  He still couldn’t explain what had happened with Rosemary or how his body had reacted to her touch. All he understood was it could not happen again. If she had any idea what took place after he returned from the war, she’d run far and fast. Whatever had been left of his soul after fighting for the Union had been ground to dust when he’d learned the extent of his wife’s deceit.

  His gaze rose to the second floor of the house, seeing the flickering light pouring from Rosemary’s window. Since learning the truth about his wife, Dirk had compared all women to her, believing every one bore a layer of deception and secrets beneath the surface. It only took the right circumstances to bring it to life. He wondered what secrets Rosemary held.

  Forcing his gaze away from her window, he took another look around, seeing nothing of concern. Leaning forward, he rested his elbows on his legs, scrubbing his face, feeling tired beyond his years. He was in his late twenties. The cracked mirror hanging on the bunkhouse wall told him his real age didn’t matter. Those who looked at his face would mistake him for much older.

  At twenty, and considered a woman, Rosemary seemed little older than a child, a girl he had no business wanting. It had been a shock when he learned the extent of his attraction to her. Until tonight, he never intended to act on it. Now he had to figure out how to stay away from her, erase his inappropriate thoughts from his mind. His job was to protect her, nothing more. The women who worked at the Dixie and Wild Rose would fulfill his needs, the same as similar women had since he’d ridden away from Pennsylvania for the last time.

  Chapter Seven

  Rosemary extinguished the lantern, moving to sit by the window. The moon had found an opening in the thick clouds, allowing a ray of light to shine on the barn. Looking down, she couldn’t help staring at Dirk, his strong shoulders slumped, arms resting on his legs, a rifle in his lap. She wondered what held his thoughts. Did he regret kissing her?

  Her face flushed, remembering how his lips felt on hers, how much she wanted him to continue. The realization shouldn’t have been a surprise. In spite of his foul moods and arrogance, she felt a strange pull to him. She had no business feeling anything.

  Rosemary’s mother had been a saint, working day and night on the farm while raising her and Ben without any aid from her husband. He spent his days in the fields. After supper, he’d head to town, coming home close to midnight, smelling of whiskey and other strange scents. Rosemary now understood the potent perfume came from his activities in the brothels behind the saloons.

  The only words he spoke to Rosemary were harsh, unforgiving, meant to make her cower the same way his wife did. When Rosemary didn’t shrink from his words, he punctuated them with his hands. Never enough to cause outward scars, his treatment forced her to see the man who’d fathered her as a threat, a man she’d never be able to depend upon or trust.

  Instead, she’d given her trust to an eighteen-year-old farmhand her father hired the summer she’d turned fifteen. Rosemary had seen him as an answer to her troubles, someone to depend on when her father’s treatment became too harsh. He’d been handsome and charming, filling her head with stories of how they’d live once he saved enough and they ran away. She’d believed every word, even giving him the small amount of money she’d saved. Then he disappeared, but not before changing her life in another frightening and unexpected way.

  Her gaze still fixed on Dirk, she drew in an unsteady breath. He’d hate her if he knew the secret she kept hidden close to her heart. No one had known—not her parents or her brother. But she knew, and it still tortured her every day of her life.

  A light tapping drew her attention. “Come in.”

  The door opened. Rachel, Patrick, and Ginny stood in the hall, all dressed for bed.

  Standing, she walked to them. “Is something wrong?”

  “Not at all. We just wanted to be sure you’re all right.” Rachel walked forward, holding Patrick’s hand. Ginny leaned against the doorframe, a hand rubbing her stomach. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Rachel lifted Patrick up beside her. “I know you’d rather be in town, working at the clinic.”

  Rosemary sat beside her. “I want to be where I’m needed. Right now, that’s here with you and Ginny.”

  Rachel rested her hand on Rosemary’s arm. “You aren’t a prisoner. If you want to go into town some days, Dirk or one of the men will go with you. I just don’t want you to feel trapped.”

  She thought of Dirk’s words about her being selfish. They caused a lump to form in her throat, strengthening her resolve to stay. Rosemary refused to leave those who’d shown so much faith in her.

  “I don’t feel trapped, Rachel. Honestly, I want to be here with my family.”

  Rachel’s warm smile touched Rosemary’s heart. “You are part of our family. I hope you never forget it.”

  Ginny walked to the window and looked out. Spotting Dirk, she turned back to Rosemary. “A family that is growing rapidly. Luke says it won’t be long before we’ll need a dozen houses for all the families this ranch will hold.”

  An image of her and Dirk sitting in comfortable chairs by a fire rolled across Rosemary’s mind, causing her to still. She had no reason to think of a future with him, didn’t know why the image appeared. She ruthlessly pushed the thought aside before it took root in her fantasies.

  Rachel stood, lifting Patrick into her arms. Joining Ginny at the window, she glanced outside, seeing Dirk stand, grasping his rifle in his hands. “With all the single men working here, I have no doubt the number of houses will expand.” She looked back at Rosemary, her brows drawing together. “Dirk is an example. He’s a good-looking man, smart, dedicated to his job. I wonder why he’s never married. He must have had many opportunities.”

  Rosemary shook her head. She’d wondered the same many times, never having the courage to ask him outright. “Has he ever mentioned his life before King Tolbert hired him?”

  “If he spoke about his past, it would have been to Dax or Luke. Maybe Bull.” Rachel glanced at Ginny. “Has Luke ever mentioned anything about Dirk’s past to you?”

  Ginny shook her head, her hand rubbing a circle on her stomach. “Not a word. What about Dax?”

  “No.” Rachel looked out the window once more, seeing Dirk gazing into the distance before walking around the corner of the barn. “He’s a very private man. He’ll tell us of his past when he’s ready.”

  Rosemary agreed, although it didn’t stop
her from wondering. Had he ever been in love as she thought she once was? She’d never seen him smile. What had changed him into a sullen, guarded man, someone bound by honor and loyalty with little ability to feel?

  Rachel stepped next to Rosemary. “I need to put Patrick to bed. Dax and Luke will finish going over the books soon. We’ll see you at breakfast.”

  “Yes, you will.” Closing the door behind them, Rosemary returned to her seat by the window. Not seeing Dirk in his usual spot, she directed her attention to the sky. It had again turned dark, the thick clouds signaling rain later that night or early the next morning.

  When her gaze returned to the front of the barn, Dirk had resumed his seat on the bench. This time, he sat straight, his features fixed in a stern expression. One she knew well.

  Touching her lips, she felt a tingle almost as powerful as when his mouth covered hers. Rosemary never thought such a hard man could kiss with so much tenderness.

  Stranger still, she’d sworn to never again surrender to the touch of a man—and certainly not one she didn’t like.

  Mack Mackey, one of Gabe’s deputies, shook the rain from his shoulders before stepping inside the jail. “Good morning, Gabe.” He tossed a newspaper on the desk.

  “What’s this?” Picking it up, Gabe noted the heading. “From Denver. It’s almost a week old.”

  “Look at the story further down the page.”

  Spreading the paper out on the desk, his gaze caught on a specific story. Reading it, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s about the murders Pinkerton suspects are connected. Seems another girl went missing. Her body was found outside Ogallala.”

  Lowering himself into a chair, Mack leaned forward. “I read it.” Scratching his brow, he sat back. “I’m unclear what makes them believe the abductions and murders are done by the same person.”

  “There must be more to the deaths than what we read in the stories.” Standing, Gabe picked up the paper, then grabbed his hat. “Dutch McFarlin returned last night. I want to speak with him, ask him to contact Pinkerton. Maybe he’ll be able to learn more about the murders.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Mack stood, following Gabe out the door and to the boardinghouse across the street.

  “Good morning, Gabe, Mack. Would you like a table?” Suzanne Barnett, a partner with Gabe and her husband, Nick, in several businesses, walked up to them.

  “We’re looking for Dutch. Has he been down for breakfast?” Gabe asked, taking off his hat.

  “I haven’t seen him. His room is at the top of the stairs on the right. Would you like a key?”

  “Thank you, Suzanne. I believe he’ll open the door for us. Come on, Mack.” Gabe pounded up the stairs, knocking on Dutch’s door. “It’s Gabe and Mack. We need to speak with you.”

  A rough voice sounded through the door. “Give me a minute.”

  They stood back, hearing the rustling sound of clothing an instant before the door opened. “Sheriff, Mack. It’s a little early for a social call.” He stood back, gesturing for them to enter.

  “It’s not a social call, Dutch. We need your help.” Gabe walked to the window, looking outside, as Mack leaned against the wall.

  “What do you need?”

  Gabe explained, seeing recognition on Dutch’s face. “You already know of the murders.”

  Dutch nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard about them. Allan sent me several telegrams. They were waiting for me when I arrived in Splendor.”

  “What did he say?” Mack asked.

  “He mentioned the murders in the early telegrams. The last one asked me to be available to travel to Denver. He believes they are connected.”

  Mack pushed away from the wall. “The news stories say all occurred not far from the railroad.”

  Dutch nodded. “There’s more. Each victim was strangled.”

  Gabe’s jaw tightened. “Were the women…were they…?” He let his voice trail off.

  Dutch shook his head, knowing what Gabe asked. “No. They found no evidence of them being violated.” Clearing his throat, he shredded fingers through his unruly hair. “All the victims were between eighteen and twenty-three, unmarried, living with their parents, with similar features.”

  Gabe tilted his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  Pacing a few feet away, Dutch shrugged. “Average height, fair skin, slender, and comely. Strangely, none had a serious suitor.”

  “That could describe thousands of young women.” Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose. “Do you know if they were abducted at night?”

  “Early evening,” Dutch responded. “From the little I know, I agree there is consistency between the murders.”

  Mack rubbed his chin, his brows furrowing. “With all this information, they still have no idea who’s doing it?”

  Shaking his head, Dutch grimaced. “Not that I know about.”

  Glancing out the window once again, Gabe folded his arms over his chest. “Common sense would tell us it’s a man, maybe more than one. They either travel on the railroad or follow it.”

  Mack looked at Gabe. “Which would seem to make Splendor safe.”

  Gabe nodded, a grim expression on his face. “For now.”

  Big Pine

  Brushing the dust off his tattered coat, he set the broom next to a bucket in the closet of the saloon. The day’s work had earned him some coin, supper, and a much needed drink. The unexpected job came with a tiny room at the back of what appeared to be the most disreputable saloon in town.

  He’d spent longer than intended in the territorial capital. If it hadn’t been for the generosity of the aging bartender, he might’ve spent his last days on earth freezing at night and sweltering during the day, wedged between two leaky water barrels behind the saloon.

  The owner needed a man to clean the building during the day and provide a ready gun against drunken and rowdy cowboys at night. After one particularly raucous night, in which his skills had been tested, the owner hired him.

  A few more days and he’d earn enough to outfit himself for the final miles to Splendor.

  Splendor

  Bull settled his hands on his waist, studying the progress of the new clinic, a scowl on his face. Guilt washed over him. Looking at Clay McCord, he shook his head.

  “They should’ve been much further along by now. If only I’d seen the man’s weaknesses sooner.”

  “It’s not your fault the man supervising them turned out to be a drunk and a thief.”

  Bull grimaced. “I should’ve checked on the progress sooner.”

  “You had a more pressing responsibility at the ranch. Keeping your family, Rosemary, and the Pelletiers safe from Trask. Gabe and Nick agree with me, as does Doc Worthington. No one blames you.”

  “I appreciate your words, Doc, but I must take responsibility. My consolation is Gabe and Nick discovered the missing funds.”

  Clay chuckled. “During a drunken state when the man babbled about what he’d done. He now sits in jail and the money has been recovered.” He clasped Bull on the shoulder. “We’ve lost a little time, nothing more.”

  Bull shifted his stance, his jaw tight. “I’ll need to stay in town.”

  “No, you won’t.” Nick walked up beside them. “You’ve done more than what Gabe and I expected. You’re needed at the ranch. And for good reason.” He narrowed his gaze at Bull, daring him to argue.

  “Who will watch over the men?”

  Nick’s face broke into a wry grin. “I will.”

  Bull’s eyes widened. “You?”

  Placing a hand over his heart, Nick feigned offense. “You don’t believe I can do it?”

  Bull’s head fell back as a roar of laughter burst from his lungs. After a moment, he settled down, looking at his friend. “You’re more capable than I am.”

  Crossing his arms over his chest, Nick nodded, a wide grin on his face. “I can’t argue that.”

  Gabe walked up, shaking his head. “All right, you two. Now that we’ve determined you’re both
capable, a fact we already knew, I think it’s time to develop a plan for getting back on schedule.”

  Nick slapped Bull on the back. “He’s right. We’ll meet with the men, let them know of the changes, and have the clinic finished within weeks.”

  Bull stared at him, one brow arched. “Weeks?”

  Gabe chuckled at the incredulous look on Bull’s face.

  Nick nodded. “Yes, Bull. Weeks.”

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, Bull looked around, counting those cutting wood and pounding nails. “Then we’ll need more men.”

  Clay, who’d stayed quiet, enjoying the men’s banter, cleared his throat. “I must return to the clinic. Doc Worthington and I will be happy with whatever you three decide.”

  They watched him leave, Nick’s brows furrowing when his daughter, Olivia, intercepted Clay partway to the clinic. Slipping her arm through Clay’s, they walked along the boardwalk.

  Gabe turned toward him. “Are they courting?”

  Nick’s attention switched from his daughter to Gabe. “No. Olivia says they are friends, nothing more.”

  Chuckling, Gabe watched Clay walk into the clinic as Olivia continued up the street. “Seems that’s the way it started for all of us.”

  Railroad to Cheyenne

  “Young man, you have been very quiet. Are you well?”

  “Now, Sister. Can’t you see he has much on his mind?” Selma Ritter touched the arm of her older sister, Davinia.

  Straightening, Willard Cullin forced a weak smile. He guessed the spinster sisters to be in their sixties, although he’d never embarrass them by asking.

  “No, no. It’s quite all right, Miss Ritter.” He looked at Davinia. “I’m afraid I’m not as stout as you two women. Traveling across country does not suit me as it does you.”

  “Nonsense. You are as resolute as my sister and I. I’ve seen it in your eyes, and those of your two companions.” Davinia glanced around. “I’ve not seen them since we were in Ogallala.”