Rogue Rapids

by Shirleen Davies

  Something inside her wouldn’t give up. The attraction to Mack started the moment she’d met him after arriving in Splendor. He’d done nothing except welcome her. But his gray eyes had latched onto hers, making an impression she’d never forgotten.

  Settling a bonnet on her head, she tied it, giving the strings a sturdy tug. The winds had picked up over the last several days, sending hats flying, forcing dirt into every slivered opening. Windows, doorways, saddlebags—nothing was safe from the dusty gusts.

  Taking a last look in the mirror, Sylvia met May in the hall, taking slow steps downstairs. Her stomach churned as they made their way along the boardwalk, holding their bonnets down during the short walk to the church.

  Stopping at the end of the walkway, Sylvia stared toward the church, scanning the open area in front for Mack. Her breath caught, chest squeezing when she spotted him talking to two men she’d never seen.

  When one turned, Sylvia’s gaze lit on a star pinned to his shirt. “One of the new deputies,” she murmured.

  “What?” May’s brows furrowed.

  “I believe Mack is talking to two of the new deputies who rode back with him and Cash from Big Pine a few days ago.”

  Sweeping a lock of hair from her forehead, Sylvia did her best to calm the incessant pounding of her heart before allowing herself to join Mack. Still unsure of her response, she let out a breath, taking the steps to the street and walking across the short expanse to within a few yards of him and the two men.

  Mack finished what he was saying, his gaze locking on hers, a slight smile curving his lips. Her heart pounded harder, seeing his gray eyes darken as he took several confident steps to stand in front of her.

  He lifted his hat. “Good morning, Miss Lucero, Miss Bacon.”

  Until that instant, Sylvia had forgotten May stood beside her. May nodded at Mack. “Good morning, Deputy Mackey. If you two will excuse me, there’s someone I’d like to talk to.” She walked toward the door of the church to where Caleb talked to Tabitha. Sylvia would’ve loved to hear what her friend had to say, but she had a tall, broad-shouldered man staring at her, waiting.

  “Good morning, Adam.” She let his given name roll off her tongue, seeing his steel gray eyes flash. “How are you?”

  “To be truthful, I’m not certain.”

  Her eyes widened. “Oh?”

  His lips drew into a thin line, eyes narrowing as he studied her face. “Do you need more time to make a decision?”

  Sylvia felt her body tremble, words stalling as his intense stare sparked a wave of anxious anticipation. She knew what she wanted to say. She just needed the courage to get it out. Looking around, seeing no one within earshot, she opened her mouth.

  “As I understand it, I have two choices. Consent to you courting me with the prospect of a marriage without love, or refuse to see you again. Do I have it right?”

  He gave a curt nod, his face devoid of expression.

  “Good. I’d hate to think I misunderstood my choices. However, I’d like to offer a third possibility.”

  Crossing his arms, his hard gaze didn’t flinch away from hers. “Go ahead.”

  Feeling an extreme tightness in her chest, she cleared her throat, wanting to sound firm and resolute.

  “If I consent to a courtship, you’ll allow me to attempt to persuade you to reconsider your stance on love.”

  A brow lifted. “Reconsider my stance on love?”

  “That’s correct. I won’t marry without love, and you won’t marry with it. I’d like the opportunity to change your mind.”

  He didn’t immediately respond to her request, his mind wrestling with the idea any woman could get him to reconsider his position on marriage. Staring into her determined gaze, a flash of unease gripped him. If any woman could make him rethink his opinion on love, it would be Sylvia Lucero, someone he had no desire to lead on or give false hope. Mack would never intentionally hurt her, would feel the pain himself if he did.

  “How long a period of time would you request to try and change my mind?”

  Her brows furrowed. “How long?”

  “If I agree, how much time would you want to change my mind about love? A week, a month, three months? How long, Sylvia?”

  She gripped her bonnet as a gust of wind tried to dislodge it from her head. “Well, I, uh…I hadn’t thought of a specific amount of time.”

  A wry grin lifted his lips. “Perhaps you should.”

  Biting her lip, she nodded. “All right.” She thought a moment. “One month. If you feel nothing for me in four weeks, I’ll bother you no further, and you’ll not call on me again.”

  Mack swallowed. He hadn’t expected her to agree to a time limit or come up with one so quickly. The thought of seeing her every day, learning everything about her and growing close, only to have it all ripped from him scared Mack more than any Confederate bullet ever had.

  He wasn’t after love, but he did want a solid bond, a deep friendship with a woman he admired and respected. A strong woman he could build a life with, who’d bear his children. Every instinct told him Sylvia was that woman. Could he walk away after a mere four weeks, knowing from the start she’d never receive the love she wanted and deserved?

  Rubbing his jaw, Mack ignored the church bell signaling the start of services. She stood before him, her hopeful gaze searching his face, waiting for an answer.

  “Four weeks.”

  She nodded once. “That’s right.”

  “And if I’m unable to offer you a marriage based on love, you’ll walk away with no further expectations?” Even though her offer matched his needs, his gut clenched hearing himself speak the words.

  “Of course, I would hope we could remain friends.” She cringed at the slight tremble in her voice.

  “Of course,” he repeated, still grappling with an internal struggle that surprised him. Mack knew he should accept the offer without further thought, but something held him back.

  “Well, Adam. What do you think?”

  He’d given her little time to consider his proposition. Now she was doing the same to him.

  The muscles in his jaw flexing, he gave her a curt nod.

  “All right. Four weeks.”

  She seemed pleased at his agreement. Why couldn’t he feel the same joy?

  Chapter Eleven

  Morgan Miller sat near the back of the church, his attention wavering away from the choir to watch the couple a few pews from the front. Sylvia and Mack walked in a few seconds before the choir started, sitting next to each other, their shoulders touching.

  Anger rolled through him at the ridiculous notion a simple deputy could capture the interest of such a lovely creature as Miss Lucero. She was too refined, much too beautiful to tie herself to a man who shared a small house with a fellow deputy, had nothing more than a monthly salary, a horse, and his saddle. As far as Morgan could discover, Mack didn’t even own an account at the bank. He’d never be able to support Sylvia in the style she deserved.

  Morgan could. His growing ranch provided solid profits, and he had no reason to believe his success wouldn’t continue. Especially when he and his family took over the land now owned by the sheepherders, Elija and Ebenezer Smith.

  They’d been having problems. Big ones, judging by the way Morgan had been questioned by Deputies Mackey and Covington. Although he had no idea who killed their sheep, he wasn’t unhappy about how it affected the Smith brothers. The sooner they left the territory, the sooner the Miller family could expand their holdings.

  Beyond his ranch, Morgan and his brother shared an estate their maternal grandmother left them. It didn’t make them wealthy, but it did provide each with a sizable sum tucked away in an east coast bank. Enough to provide Sylvia with anything she’d want for a long time.

  “Mackey couldn’t even provide a house,” Morgan mumbled to himself, drawing a glare from the older woman seated next to him. Gladys Poe, if he remembered right. A self-righteous busybody, according to his father and brother. Ig
noring her, he continued to watch Sylvia and Mack, the skeletons of a plan forming as Reverend Paige stepped up to the pulpit.

  “I’ve been invited to the Pelletier ranch for Sunday supper. Will you accompany me?” Mack watched Sylvia’s reaction, searching for any sign of hesitancy.

  “Would my presence be all right with Dax and Rachel?”

  “Rachel already told me I could bring someone.”

  She lifted a brow. “Someone?”

  Taking her elbow, Mack guided her away from the open area in front of the church. The service ended fifteen minutes before, allowing them to mingle with their friends for a while before everyone dispersed for their private Sunday plans. Stopping next to the St. James Hotel, Mack faced her.

  “Rachel heard from Lena Evans we were courting. Which means her invitation includes you.”

  Sylvia felt heat rise on her face.

  Mack smirked. “Which makes me wonder if you told Lena about me courting you.”

  “No. I mean, well…May Bacon might have mentioned something at supper with Lena on Friday.”

  “May?”

  Straightening, she squared her shoulders. “May is my closest friend. Of course she knows we’ve had supper a couple times. Do you have a problem with people knowing?”

  Stepping closer, he ran a finger down her cheek, his voice low. “No, I don’t. Do you?”

  The touch caused a slight shiver to run through her. Swallowing, she shook her head. “No.”

  Dropping his hand, he took a step away. “Good. It’s settled.”

  “Settled?” she choked out, missing his touch.

  “Our agreement. Supper with the Pelletiers will be the start of our official courting period. Four weeks from today, we’ll both know what our future will be.”

  A chill washed through Sylvia, along with a good amount of doubt. Four weeks didn’t seem like much time to make such an important decision. And to think it had been her idea. One more example of a hasty decision she should’ve taken more time to consider. If she had it to do over…

  “Are you ready, Sylvia, or do you need to get something from your room?”

  Looking down at her reticule, her lips twisted as she thought. “Perhaps a shawl.”

  He held out his arm. “I’ll walk you to the boardinghouse before checking to see if Noah has a wagon I can rent.”

  “I can ride,” she blurted before slipping her arm through his.

  Mack chuckled. “Is that so?” He guided her up the steps to the boardwalk, a skeptical look on his face.

  Annoyance gripped her at his doubtful expression. “Of course. I grew up on a ranch for heaven’s sake.”

  Approaching the boardinghouse, he stopped. “Are you saying you’d rather ride to the Pelletier’s?”

  Her excited gaze met his. “Can we?”

  The sight of her bright smile and expectant look made Mack feel as if he’d been punched in the stomach. Clearing his throat, he nodded. “If that’s what you want. I’ll get my horse and another for you. We’ll meet back here in a few minutes.”

  She didn’t wait to hear more before dashing inside and up the stairs to her room. Going to the wardrobe, Sylvia pulled out the riding skirt she hadn’t worn since boarding the stagecoach to Philadelphia. A few minutes later, she hurried down the steps and burst outside.

  Seeing Mack at the livery, holding the reins of two horses, she smiled, not waiting for him to come to her. Crossing the street, she walked past the telegraph office to stand next to him. Running a hand down the neck of the horse she knew he’d saddled for her, Sylvia let out an excited sigh.

  “Whose horse is he?” She stroked his neck again.

  “Abby Brandt’s. His name is Hasty.” He ran a hand down the gelding’s nose. “Are you ready?”

  Taking the reins from his hand, she slipped her boot into the stirrup and swung into the saddle. Settling, she glanced down at Mack. “Well, are you coming?” Reining Hasty around, she clucked, heading toward Redemption’s Edge.

  Chuckling at her eagerness, he mounted, catching up by the time Sylvia passed the lumber mill. Mack kept glancing toward her, admiring the way she looked atop the horse. Back straight, a loose grip on the reins, her relaxed manner giving the impression of an accomplished horsewoman. Perhaps he’d misjudged her experience.

  They’d ridden about ten minutes before he spoke. “Tell me more about your family’s ranch.”

  Her joy at riding after so many months faded a little. She didn’t want to tell him the truth, how she’d run away looking for love, when what Mack offered was the same as her father.

  Well, not exactly the same. It wouldn’t be as if they’d be connecting two wealthy families. She constrained the bitter laugh that bubbled up. If she went along with Mack’s description of a marriage, she’d live as a deputy’s wife in a frontier town a long way from her family. They’d have children and live a quiet life, her loving him while he’d go through his days content with the companionship she offered—but nothing more.

  The thought made her wonder if marriage with a man she didn’t love might be easier on her heart than living with someone who could never return her feelings. As hard as she found it, it was a notion worth considering. Sylvia could leave, return home, allowing her father to partner her with one of the young men near Whiplash. There’d be money, social status, and parties. She’d have all her parents shared. It just wouldn’t be with a man she loved.

  “There isn’t much to tell. My father runs cattle with my two older brothers. I come from a small town where marriage prospects are few.” The comment was partly the truth, partly a lie. “My older brother intends to marry someone he’s loved since they were children.”

  “What of your other brother?”

  She shrugged. “I don’t know what his plans are.”

  “Why did you leave?”

  Sylvia glanced at him before returning her attention to the trail ahead. “As I said, there were few prospects for me. At least no one I could love.”

  Even if he’d expected the answer, it still hit him in the gut. She’d traveled hundreds of miles as a mail order bride to find love. Instead, she’d found a jaded, ex-Union major with no desire to ever fall in love again.

  Neither spoke the rest of the ride.

  Denver, Colorado

  Dominic ran his hands along the tall, muscled stallion, picking up one leg after another to check the hooves. He stroked the horse’s nose, looking into the animal’s stormy eyes.

  “I’ll take him.” Dominic looked around the livery. “Do you have a saddle and tack I can buy?”

  The older man pointed behind him. “Inside. There are a few saddles you can choose from. Got saddlebags, too.” His rough voice suggested a lifetime of smoking, alcohol, and late nights.

  Following him inside, Dominic checked four different saddles, selecting one along with the rest of the tack he’d need, including the saddlebags. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out enough money to pay the amount the man quoted.

  “Where you headed?”

  Dominic laid the bills in the man’s outstretched hand. “North to the Montana Territory.”

  “Big Pine?”

  Shaking his head, he lifted the saddle and tack, carrying them out to the stallion. “Splendor.”

  “Heard of it. Never been there. A couple ex-Texas Rangers own the biggest ranch in those parts.”

  That got Dominic’s attention. “You know their name?”

  Rubbing his jaw, the man’s lips twisted, eyes narrowing before he snapped his fingers. “Pelletier.”

  He finished cinching the saddle, secured the saddlebags, then slipped on the bridle. Walking the horse through the back gate, he swung on top.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  The older man nodded, lifting a hand in the air. “Yep.”

  Reining north, Dominic followed a well-used trail. He passed a few other riders heading to Denver, but after a while, no one else appeared. The sheriff told him it would take at least two weeks to reach Splend
or, assuming they didn’t get early snow. If that happened, it could be three weeks or longer. As an afterthought, the sheriff warned him about the Cheyenne, Sioux, and Crow he might encounter along the way, saying if he did, it might take him a bit longer.

  Continuing along the trail, Dominic snorted as he thought about the sheriff’s comment. He supposed it was the only way to think about traveling through territories inhabited by various Indian tribes. Along with the thought, he reconsidered his decision to not tell his family where he was headed. If anything happened, no one would learn of it. His would be one more death in a dangerous land where outlaws and Indian encounters were more common than many understood.

  By the time the sun crested, beginning its afternoon descent, he’d traveled a good distance. The weather ahead stayed clear, as did the trail, becoming almost lonely in its quiet.

  The silence allowed him time to think about Sylvia and what he might find when he reached Splendor. Dominic didn’t care to follow any of the scenarios that sprung to mind whenever he thought of his younger sister. All he cared about was finding her alive, happy, and possibly ready to come home.

  Redemption’s Edge Ranch

  “All I’m saying is another bull would push the breeding along.” Luke Pelletier took another spoonful of potatoes.

  Dax Pelletier set down his fork, staring at his brother. “You don’t think three bulls is enough for a herd our size? Seems to me they’ve been doing their job.”

  Sylvia sat between Rachel and Mack, a smile sliding her lips upward at the conversation. The similarity between the talk around this table and the one at home struck her, making her chest squeeze.

  Rachel gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry. Sometimes my husband and Luke get carried away when they talk about the ranch.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve heard this type of conversation my entire life. My father and brothers never worried about what they said at the supper table.”