Courage Canyon

by Shirleen Davies

  “Have you been married before, Dirk?”

  Stopping, he sucked in a breath, turning to look at her. His gaze darkened, a muscle in his jaw twitching as he let her arm drop from his.

  “Yes.” Without another word, he continued down the boardwalk.

  “Dirk. Wait.” Rosemary hurried to catch up. When she reached him, she grabbed his arm. “Wait…please.”

  He stared down at her, his face a mask.

  “Are you still married?”

  He narrowed his gaze at her, his mouth twisting in disgust. Shaking off her hand, he opened the clinic door. “No.”

  “But—”

  She wasn’t able to say anything more before he turned on her, holding up a finger, the veins in his neck pulsing.

  “This discussion is over.” Leaving her with her mouth gaping open, Dirk knocked on the examination room door.

  Dax opened the door and whispered, “Come on in.”

  Dirk hesitated, not wanting to intrude.

  “It’s okay, Dirk. Ginny’s sleeping.” Luke walked up to him, the baby in his arms. Lifting the blanket, he looked down at his son.

  “He’s beautiful, Luke.” Rosemary stood next to Dirk, ignoring the pain in her chest to focus on the baby. “Did you have time to choose a name?”

  “Not yet. Ginny’s been asleep, which is what she needed. We’ll talk about it when she’s rested.”

  “I think Dax is a good name.” Dax leaned a shoulder against the wall, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

  Luke chuckled. “It’s a fine name, but we have some other ideas, which I’m not sharing with you right now. What does need to be decided is how long before I can take my wife and son home.” He looked at Clay.

  “If Ginny’s doing fine later today, perhaps she’ll be able to go back this evening.”

  “That’s great—”

  “I said perhaps, Luke. Ginny was fortunate the baby didn’t take long to get here. Still, it’s an ordeal and the ride to the ranch is long after what she’s been through. It may be best to get a room at the boardinghouse or the St. James for a couple nights. I can check on her and the baby each day to make sure they’re both doing all right.”

  Dax’s face sobered. “The doc has a point, Luke. Rachel stayed in bed a few days before leaving the bedroom.”

  “You were at home, right?” Rosemary took another look at the baby.

  Dax nodded. “Yes. Bull rode into town to get Doc Worthington. Charles didn’t waste any time getting there.” He remembered it as if it happened yesterday. “I didn’t think I’d live through it.”

  “Neither did the rest of us.” Luke grinned, rocking the baby in a gentle motion.

  “It might be best to stay in town, little brother. I can go talk to Gabe about a room at the hotel, unless you’d rather stay at Suzanne’s place.”

  “I’ll speak with Ginny. My guess is she’d rather be near Suzanne. You know how close they were when Ginny worked for her. Plus, I’d be able to go down to the kitchen and rustle up some food.”

  “I’ll go let her know, make sure she has a room.” Dirk moved to the door. “Dax, do you want me to head back to the ranch with Rosemary?”

  “It’s a good idea. I’ll borrow a horse from Noah and ride back after I’ve had breakfast. She’d have to ride behind you.”

  Lifting her chin, her shoulders drawn back, she waited for Dirk to refuse the idea.

  “Fine, if Rosemary approves.”

  His answer stunned her to the point she shot him a shocked look.

  He crossed his arms, lifting a brow. “Rosemary?”

  “Yes, I’ll ride behind you. I don’t want to be away from Rachel too long.”

  “Let her know I’ll be back soon.”

  Rosemary nodded. “I will, Dax.”

  “I’ll check with Suzanne about a room and be back in a few minutes.” Dirk focused his attention on Rosemary. “Be ready to go when I get back.”

  She wanted to stomp her feet at his brutish attitude. Instead, she plastered a sweet smile on her face and nodded. There’d be time to pay him back on the ride home.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Hold on, Rosemary. I don’t want to waste time returning to the ranch.” As soon as they reached the edge of town, Dirk rolled a heel into Banshee’s side, moving the horse into a lope.

  Doing as he asked, she tightened her grip around his waist, resting her head against his back. After a few minutes, she became accustomed to the pace, letting her hands relax a little and drop lower.

  A low growl vibrated through his body, surprising her. One of his hands grabbed both of hers, pulling them to his chest.

  “Keep them there.”

  His terse command had her lifting her head from his back and drawing away. Nothing she did ever seemed to please him, and she was getting darn tired of it. Rosemary did her best to create some distance between her body and his, but each bend in the trail seemed to pull her closer.

  Trying to relax, she drew in a deep breath, glancing skyward. She took in the cloudless, blue sky, the bright sun beating down on them, allowing exhaustion to take over. Leaning forward to rest her head against his back, she let out a tired breath.

  She kept her eyes open, watching as they rode past bushes and trees, finally allowing sleep to claim her, awakening a few minutes later when Dirk changed Banshee’s pace. Without warning, Dirk grabbed her hands again, gripping them tight in one hand. She hadn’t realized they’d fallen below his waist.

  “That hurts,” she yelled over his shoulder.

  He didn’t respond. Instead, Dirk pulled her hands to his chest, holding them there.

  Anger, frustration, and exhaustion exploded within her. She had more than enough of his churlish attitude. Ripping her hands from his grasp, she pulled them to her chest, then pushed against his back. When he didn’t respond, she pushed again, then began to pound.

  Dirk reined Banshee to a stop, turning in the saddle. “What the hell are you doing?”

  Losing her grip, she slid off the saddle, hitting the ground hard, knocking the wind from her lungs. Unable to draw a breath, she sat there, dazed, feeling strong hands slide up and down her arms.

  “Breathe, Rosemary.” His voice had softened, the anger gone as he studied her face. Moving a hand to her back, he rubbed in soft, soothing circles. The motion helped her relax as she drew in a slow breath, then another.

  “It hurts.”

  Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. “Of course it hurts,” he whispered in her ear. “Falling off a horse never feels good, sweetheart. What were you thinking?”

  Rosemary had no explanation for the way she acted—shoving him, pounding on his back, then allowing herself to fall. At least no explanation she wanted to voice. One moment, he was harsh and brutal in his comments. The next, he was soothing her, holding her in his arms.

  Wrapping her arms around him, she relaxed in his strong embrace. “I don’t know.”

  Drawing back, he moved one hand to her chin, lifting her face, his gaze locking with hers. “You don’t know?”

  Rosemary let her eyes drift closed, shaking her head. She sensed him lowering his head right before he brushed a kiss across her lips.

  “Again,” she breathed against his mouth.

  There was no hesitation this time.

  Even as he lifted her into his arms, Dirk knew their actions were foolish. No matter how he tried to convince himself otherwise, in his heart, Dirk knew she deserved better. Young, beautiful, and innocent, she needed a man without the burdens his past held.

  For now, he’d take some of what she offered, allowing the comfort of her touch to cleanse him.

  Walking off the trail, he placed her on a bed of bison grass, removing his hat before stretching out beside her. Running his fingers down her cheek, his breath caught when she turned her face toward him, the desire and trust in her eyes burning a path through him.

  Placing a soft kiss on her lips, he sat up, running both hands through hi
s hair. Looking down at Rosemary’s confused expression, Dirk took hold of her hand, cradling it in his lap.

  Sitting up, she rested her head on his shoulder, her heart all but jumping out of her chest. Touching his arm, Rosemary drew in an unsteady breath.

  “What’s wrong, Dirk? Please…tell me.”

  Tamping down the pain, which never let up, he thought through all the reasons to stay silent. Dirk told himself he owed her no explanation. The secrets of his past belonged to him and no one else.

  “Perhaps talking about it will help.”

  He didn’t see how. Nothing could undo what had happened when he returned from the war. The events of those few weeks scarred him as much as all he’d seen during years of war.

  “I’ve never spoken of it, Rosemary. I’m not sure I can.” Dropping her hand, he stood, pacing several feet away. Staring back at the trail, at Banshee standing where he’d been left, Dirk fisted his hands at his sides.

  Standing, she took a hesitant step toward him. “You won’t know unless you try.”

  Turning toward her, his jaw tight, eyes haunted, he took one tentative step forward.

  “My wife was murdered.”

  Rosemary’s gasp, her hand flying to cover her mouth, almost stopped him from continuing. Watching as surprise, shock, and confusion played across her face, Dirk knew he had to tell her everything, end her fantasies about the two of them.

  “They arrested me for her murder.”

  Denver, Colorado

  “Sister, you must read this.” Selma Ritter handed Davinia the Denver Gazette, dated two days before. “It is quite interesting.” Picking up her cup, she stared out the window of the restaurant, pushing aside her empty dinner plate before sipping her coffee

  Huffing out an exasperated breath, Davinia pulled the reading spectacles from her reticule, settling them on the bridge of her nose. “I can’t imagine what a small frontier newspaper would say that I’d find of interest.” Scanning the paper, her eyes froze on a story at the bottom of the front page.

  “It’s about those missing young women, Davinia.”

  She peered over the rim of her glasses. “I can see that, Selma.” Reading the article, Davinia’s eyes narrowed, the only sign the news surprised her. Tapping her fingers on the tabletop, she pressed her lips into a thin line. Looking around, she focused her attention on the street outside. “I don’t believe I’ve seen Mr. Cullin since we arrived in Denver. Have you seen him, Sister?”

  Selma shook her head. “Nor have I seen his traveling companions. I do declare, those men can disappear with the snap of a finger.” She giggled at her own joke, then sobered, leaning toward Davinia. “We must be careful. I have a bad feeling about them.”

  Davinia waved her hand in the air, dismissing her sister’s concerns. “You’re suspicious of everyone, Selma. Why, just yesterday, you were certain the young man at the hotel was spying on us.”

  Selma sat back, crossing her arms. “That’s because he was. How else do you explain him showing up at each place we visited since arriving in Denver?”

  Tossing aside the paper, Davinia shook her head. “That was not him in the library yesterday.”

  Selma scoffed. “And that wasn’t a library. It was a ramshackle hovel with dust an inch thick and books so used, one could barely read the pages.”

  Davinia bit her lip to stifle a laugh. Whereas she was the one who dampened spirits, forcing her sister back to reality, Selma saw enchantment in almost all things. The world she lived in held little resemblance to what others saw around them. Instead, Selma created a realm of her own design.

  The one topic she took seriously was books. In her heart, they were sacred objects. She had little patience for those who didn’t revere them in the same way. It had been the source of many arguments while they were growing up, causing tension between her and their cousins. The thought of their cousins conjured up an image of their parents. Davinia’s heart turned cold at the thought.

  “Regardless, Selma, at least there is one, which is more than we found in Ogallala or Cheyenne. Now, back to Mr. Cullin and his companions. I agree we should be careful around them. That is, if they do get back on the train.”

  “I do believe we travel back to Cheyenne before leaving for Salt Lake.” Selma touched a finger to her forehead. “I am getting tired of the train, Sister. Have you considered changing our plans so we may ride a stagecoach?”

  Davinia choked on the last of her coffee. “Stagecoach? From what I’ve heard, they’re dirty, rough, and are populated by scoundrels and villains.”

  “I’ve heard nothing of the sort. Until the railroads, many people traveled by stagecoach, including women and children. It would be a nice change and, well…” Selma lifted a hand, chewing on a fingernail, the other hand fidgeting with the pendant around her neck.

  “What is it, Sister?” Davinia cocked her head to one side.

  Rubbing the pendant between her thumb and index finger, Selma shifted in her seat. “Well, the missing young women, those who’ve been murdered, are along the train route. Do you remember hearing there were Pinkerton agents on the train from Ogallala?”

  “Of course I do,” Davinia snorted.

  “I believe they’re here in Denver looking for whoever is doing this. The Pinkerton Agency believes the killer is riding the train. It may be time for us to change our plans, Sister. Perhaps take a stagecoach north.”

  Davinia stared out the window, her brows lifting when she spotted Willard Cullin and his companions. Her attention focused on the state of their clothing. Dirty and in disarray, she wondered what they’d been doing, and if the Pinkerton agents were on the train, were they aware of Cullin and his friends’ strange behavior at each stop. Right then, she made the decision to find the agents and let them know.

  Davinia folded her hands in her lap. “Perhaps you’re right, Sister. Taking the stage north might be a very good idea.”

  The trail to Redemption’s Edge

  “Murder?” Rosemary took a faltering step backward. “I don’t understand.”

  He refused to go to her, offer comfort after the shock of his confession. As harsh as it seemed, she needed to understand why they’d never be able to build a life together.

  “It’s simple enough, Rosemary. My wife was murdered and they arrested me for her death.”

  Taking slow breaths, she ignored the sharp edge to his words. “Did you do it?”

  His muscles tensed, nostrils flaring as he shook his head. “No.”

  “Then that was the end of it.”

  Dirk shook his head again, his shoulders slumping. “Not really. Most in the town still believed me guilty. Store owners refused to sell me supplies. The blacksmith refused to work on my horses. Only one saloon would allow me to come in for drinks, and not a single restaurant welcomed me. Even the minister and his wife shunned me, and I’d known them my entire life.” He let out a shaky breath. “No matter the lack of evidence or the witnesses who said I was with them playing cards at the time, they believed I killed her.” He shifted his gaze, no longer able to look at her.

  Her chest squeezed at the pain in his voice. “That’s why you left.”

  “I couldn’t stay.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he fought for control, not wanting to tell her more. “Now do you understand why we can’t be together?”

  “Excuse me if I sound simpleminded, but no, I don’t understand. You’ve built a life here, far away from those who doubted you. It’s a fresh start, Dirk.”

  A low growl escaped his lips. “There’s more.”

  Closing the gap between them, she placed a hand on his arm. “Tell me. I want to hear all of it.” Turning away, she walked to a fallen tree and sat down. Arranging her skirt around her, clasping her hands together, she looked up at him. “No one is expecting us back this early. We have as much time as you need.”

  Pinching the bridge of his nose, Dirk closed his eyes for a moment. He’d rather be doing almost anything than standing here, baring his soul to
the person who meant the most to him. Memorizing the serene look on her face, the hope in her eyes, knowing they’d be gone when he finished, Dirk began.

  “Since we were boys, my older brother, Griffen, and I dreamed of building the best horse ranch in northern Pennsylvania. Fine horses the upper classes would be proud to own. We worked hard, built houses, married. Griff had a son and a daughter. Melissa and I wanted a family, but it didn’t happen as easily as it did for him and his wife.” Sucking in a breath, he continued. “When the war started, I enlisted to fight for the Union. Griff understood my need to play a part in keeping the country together. With two children, he volunteered to keep the ranch going while I was gone.” Shaking his head, he paced several feet away. “Melissa never accepted my decision. She was a good woman, but more fragile than Griff’s wife. After I left, she found out she was pregnant. I didn’t hear of it until a letter found me much later…after she’d lost the baby.” He looked at Rosemary. “I wasn’t there for her. In her mind, I chose the country over her.”

  “You did what you believed was right.”

  “I abandoned her. That’s what she told me in one of her letters.” Dirk rubbed the back of his neck. “Melissa moved into Griff’s house to help with the children and not be alone. At least that’s what my brother’s letter said. She didn’t mention it in hers.” He paused so long, Rosemary thought he wouldn’t continue.

  “I stayed until after the Battle of Winchester. I was a captain in the cavalry and felt my work was done. I’d given enough and it was time to return to my wife and the ranch.”

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, Dirk shook his head, searching for the best way to continue. Now he understood why he’d never spoken of his past after leaving Pennsylvania.

  “Melissa moved back into our house, but things were different between us. There was no passion, no desire. She went about her day, cooking, cleaning, sometimes helping with the horses. We spoke little. The worst was when she’d shy away from my touch, didn’t want me near her. I began spending some of my nights in town, drinking and playing cards. There was nothing at home.” He put a hand on his chest, trying to lessen the pain of what he was about to say. “One night, I came home earlier than she expected. Griff’s horse was outside the house. When I climbed the porch steps, I heard them inside.” He looked at Rosemary. “By the sounds they were making, they weren’t talking.”