Redemption's Edge (15 page)

The men relaxed in the living room, chatting, giving Rachel time to ladle stew into a large bowl, place biscuits in a warming basket, and set them both on the table. She clasped her hands in front of her.

“Supper is ready, gentlemen.”

Dax walked to the table, holding a chair for Rachel. She took her seat, then glanced at him for a mere moment, her eyes frosty. “Thank you.”

He’d expected a smart retort and almost missed her quiet words.

Charles said a brief blessing before the three filled their plates.

Dax waited a moment, then dug in. “This is excellent, Miss Davenport.” Bernice, at the ranch, prepared good meals—hot, flavorsome, and filling. But the stew Rachel made could have been served at a fine restaurant. And the biscuits with blackberry jam were the best he’d had in years. “Did you make the jam also?”

Rachel looked at Dax and thought how odd it felt to be sitting at the supper table with a man she’d sworn to stay as far away from as possible, but her uncle had given her no choice.

“No. Mrs. Petermann, at the general store, made it last summer. She’s going to show me where to find the berries this year so that I can put them up myself.” Her agitation lessened somewhat the more she spoke, although her irritation at their guest remained high.

“Do you enjoy cooking?”

She didn’t want to like talking with him, sharing parts of herself, allowing him to learn more details of her life, no matter how trivial. And she did not want to learn any more about him. Rachel had no doubt the more she knew about Dax and his life, the more her attraction would grow.

“It depends on who’s at the table.”

He didn’t take the bait, just continued to enjoy the meal and the company. No matter how hard she tried to put him off, Dax found himself fascinated by Rachel and her many talents. If he had to identify one quality that drew him to her the most, it would be her total lack of self-absorption. She was a woman unaffected by either her looks or talent. They were a part of her life, not what defined her.

“Any more trouble in town?” Dax directed the question at Charles, eager to move beyond the issues between him and Rachel. He felt certain that, given enough time, they would sort them out and perhaps become friends.

“Nothing more. Jeff Decker, the young cowhand who was shot, seems to be doing well. It’s a miracle the boy made it.”

“His healing had everything to do with your treatment, Uncle Charles. And prayer.”

“I’ll concede to the prayer part, Rachel.” He looked back at Dax. “It’s a real dilemma. One the town needs to solve soon, before it gets worse. I understand Rachel spoke to you and your brother, and I have no issue with your decision. Might you know of anyone else who would have an interest in Splendor?” He set down his fork and sat back. “At this point, the town will do what is needed to find someone, Mr. Pelletier.”

“Do you have an idea of who is causing the trouble?”

“Al, the bartender at the Rose where Decker got shot, didn’t mention a name. The description could have fit about any cowboy around here.”

“What about the other trouble, before and after the sheriff died?”

“No one has ever gotten a good look at anyone. Shootings, murder, fires, cattle get run off…” His voice trailed off, thinking about the violence which had occurred over the last year. “Before he was killed, the sheriff mentioned he thought Mr. Drake might be involved somehow. Unfortunately, he never said anything about proof.” Charles picked up his cup of coffee and took a sip.

Dax’s gaze narrowed at the mention of the deserter. “King Tolbert’s man?”

“That’s the only Drake I know of around here. Have you met him?”

“He rode out to the ranch a few weeks ago to deliver a message from Tolbert.” He glanced at Rachel. “The message wasn’t cordial.” He allowed himself small satisfaction when he saw a look of surprise cross her face. “Drake served under my command when we were in the Army of the South. The man and I have a history.”

“Why would Mr. Tolbert hire someone like him?” Rachel knew her uncle had grave reservations about King.

Dax gave her a pointed stare. “I don’t know. However, I do plan to find out.”

Rachel scooted back from the table and began to gather the empty plates.

“I’ll help with that.” Dax followed her into the kitchen, glad to have a few minutes alone with her.

“Here.” Rachel tossed him a towel. “You don’t mind drying the dishes, do you?” Sarcasm filled her voice. She chastised herself, hating the feeling of sounding rude, even toward someone who thought so little of the town…and her. She told herself he deserved whatever she threw at him.

“Whatever you need.” His quiet response made her feel even worse about her behavior.

“Why are you here?” She glanced over her shoulder at him, but didn’t stop scrubbing the dirty pan. If anything, her movements became more forceful.

Dax swiveled to face her, his eyes riveted on hers. “At your home?”

“Yes. Why did you come tonight? I know it wasn’t to see my uncle, and you’ve already told me you have no interest in helping out the town or calling on me. Why not stay cocooned at your ranch, instead of riding all this way for a meal of stew and biscuits?” She stopped scrubbing long enough to dry her hands on the towel draped over her shoulder and turn toward him.

He set a plate aside and moved to stand a foot away. “I believe it had something to do with you.”

“Me?” She thought he’d make up some pointless excuse about picking up supplies or having the blacksmith check out his horse. Instead, he’d surprised her with his simple answer.

“That surprises you?”

“Well, yes.” She stepped back, trying to create space, but halted as she hit the edge of the sink. “You made it clear you’d made a mistake asking to call on me.”

“I was a fool.”

Her brows furrowed, creating a crease with tiny lines between her eyes. Dax could see his answer made no sense to her.

“I want to be clear, Rachel. First, I’m sorry for my callous behavior. I didn’t mean to imply I regretted asking to call on you, I meant I should never have asked in the first place, not without thinking it through.”

“There’s no difference.” She turned back to the sink and picked up the pan, beginning another onslaught against the iron skillet.

“The truth is, I want to spend time with you, more than you know.” He edged closer, resting one hand on the sink, but not hemming her in with the other. Not yet. “I’m not sure how wise it is, knowing I may leave for Texas.”

She turned toward him and glanced down at his hand before moving a couple of inches away.

“I came tonight to apologize for my previous behavior and ask you to supper. However, you’d already started cooking, which worked out well for me, even if not so well for you.” He gripped the edge of the sink with his other hand, trapping her between his arms.

She swallowed, feeling heat creep up her face. “Why not so well for me?” She tried to steady her voice. Instead, her words were thick and shaky.

“You ended up cooking for me. Which, by the way, was quite good.” He leaned closer, wanting to capture her mouth with his, yet knowing it wouldn’t be wise.

She took a shallow breath and looked behind him, her eyes darting toward the outside. “Does it feel hot in here to you?” Rachel felt a desperate need to open the door and let in a cool breeze.

Dax lifted a hand and let his knuckles trace a path from her ear, down her cheek, across her jaw. “Feels fine to me.” His deep voice clouded her brain even more. “I still want to take you to supper.” His darkened eyes held a magnetism, drawing her in.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.” Her words came out in a broken whisper. She rested a hand on his chest. She could feel the insistent beating of his heart as he moved his fingertips to the base of her throat, then raised them in a slow, almost intimate pace to her cheek, setting her body aflame.

Dax inhaled a deep breath and stepped away. He gazed down at her, glad to see she mirrored his own feelings of desire.

“I think it’s an excellent idea.” His husky, uneven voice surprised him. It was a few, soft caresses, nothing more, yet it felt as if his body had been set on fire. “I’ll call on you next week.”

Rachel straightened and stepped toward the back door, pushing it open to allow the cool air inside. She didn’t respond as he left the room.

Chapter Eight

The night had grown late when Dax rode back toward the ranch, feeling good about stopping to see Rachel, even as his mind wrestled with his intentions toward both her and the ranch. He knew Luke had begun to form a bond, not just with the men, but with the land itself. Dax could see it in his brother’s eyes as he gazed to the mountain range at sunset, or made suggestions about expanding. He guessed Luke may have found something he could truly love, as well as a way to release the pent-up aggression and sorrow his brother believed he’d been able to hide so well.

Once more, his thoughts turned to Rachel and the guilt he felt at refusing her plea to help the town. He’d offered to do what he could to spread the word, see if they could come up with someone with experience to take the sheriff’s job. The pay seemed reasonable, the house provided by the town sounded better than in most towns, and the monthly stipend at the general store was generous.

He hadn’t mentioned to Rachel or Charles the decision he and Luke had made to jump in if the town did come under attack from either external or internal threats. As Texas Rangers, they could do no less. They would hold the information close, hoping they’d never need to step up to the task.

From what he’d heard, the town had been quiet for a long time under the keen eye of the previous sheriff, at least up until a few months before his death. Afterwards, instances of shootings, unexplained fires, and missing property had increased. The town leaders wanted the lawless actions stopped.

Dax rounded the last turn before something in the air caught his attention. Smoke. He kicked Hannibal into a gallop, racing forward until he saw what he’d feared. One of the ranch buildings blazed, long streams of red flames spearing into the sky while smoke filled the air. Men were lined up, passing buckets to each other and tossing water on the fire. He drew to a stop and jumped down, racing to Luke’s side.

“What can I do?”

“Replace Bull at the pump.” Luke’s voice carried over the wind whipping through the flames and the neighing of scared horses. “Have him check on the horses.”

Dax pumped water as the men increased the speed of passing the buckets toward the fire. He could see the damage as the flames died down and the sparks gave way to ash floating through the air.

They continued their pace until Dax and Luke were certain all the flames had been extinguished. The men scattered the burning ash, dumping dirt and kicking it around on lingering embers.

“What the hell happened?” Dax asked as Luke stopped beside him.

“Don’t know. Ellis saw it while he took his evening smoke. At least we contained it to the storage building behind the bunkhouse.”

“The furthest building west.” Dax continued to stare at the damage, relieved no one had been injured.

“Easy to sneak in, start a fire, then take off. No one would hear or see you.” Luke responded as if he’d read his brother’s mind.

“Ellis!” Dax looked to the man who stood several yards away and motioned him over. “You see anything at all when you noticed the fire?”

“Nothing, boss. Just flames. I didn’t do much except alert everyone to the fire. Wanted to get it out before it jumped to the bunkhouse.”

Dax turned to Luke. “We’d better go check it out.”

They searched behind the shed, finding nothing except horse prints, until Dax saw boot impressions a few yards from what had been the back wall of the wooden structure. “I can’t tell how long they’ve been here, but my guess is not long.”

“Well, Horace, I don’t know the reason neither of the Pelletiers are interested in the job. They said no and I accepted it.” Charles spoke to the town banker, Horace Clausen, as well as Stan Petermann, owner of the general store, Amos Henderson from the Wild Rose, and Bernie Griggs, proprietor of the Western Union office and the town postman. Clausen had called them to the bank to discuss how to find a new sheriff. “Dax Pelletier did say they’d send out messages, see if they could come up with someone.”