Redemption's Edge (2 page)

“Or get yourself kidnapped by those savages your uncle treats. Then we’ll never see you again.”

“Mother, you know that’s not at all true. Where have you heard such things?”

“I’ve read about them.” Her indignant response accompanied the defensive tilt of her head.

“In what? Those dime novels your sister gives you?” A smile drifted across Rachel’s face at the thought of her mother curled up in the drawing room, reading about outlaws, cowboys, and Indians.

“Well, they’re written by people who’ve been there, so they should know.” The annoyed reply almost made Rachel laugh.

“That could be, although Uncle Charles has yet to mention anything more disturbing than ranch hands getting drunk and shooting up the town on a Saturday night.” She grabbed her shawl and took her mother’s arm. “I leave in two days. Let’s try to have a good time until then. Please. I don’t want to waste another minute arguing about a decision that’s already been made.”

Savannah, Georgia, July 1865

Dax stood at the entrance to what used to be his home. It had once been a large, imposing, two-story house on several acres at the edge of Savannah, over a mile from the waterfront where the family kept their shipping fleet. A fleet Sherman’s troops decimated during their siege a few months before.

Atlanta fell, and Savannah followed four months later. The massive devastation of both cities crushed both military and civilian morale. When Dax looked away from his home toward the center of the city, the scenery changed little—burned buildings, blocks leveled by Union artillery, starved citizens scavenging for food, and heartbreaking despair. The two great battles during the last months of 1864 signaled the eventual end to the Confederacy’s fight.

He walked around the rubble to the back, stepping over the charred remains of furniture that had been in his family for several generations—a family of fur traders who’d become merchants and prosperous seamen, transporting goods between U.S. cities and European ports. Little remained. Everything of value had been taken, and all else burned.

Dax opened the gate into the family cemetery and knelt beside his mother’s grave. She’d died within months of Dax enlisting in the Confederacy at the start of the war. His younger brother, Luke, enlisted a year later, leaving their youngest brother,
André
, to help their father run the business and the home.
André
had died of pneumonia the previous summer, followed by their father within months. Only Dax and Luke remained. Dax sat back on his heels, idly picking out grass around the cross-shaped marker and trying to accept the loss of so many.

“I promise, Mother. I’ll find Luke. If he’s alive, I’ll find him,” Dax whispered.

“You won’t need to go far.”

Dax twisted at the sound of the familiar voice behind him and jumped to his feet.

“Luke.” His voice sounded husky with emotion as he enveloped his brother in a bear hug, then stepped back to let his eyes wander over the man he hadn’t seen in almost three years. The youthful features replaced by those burdened by the sight of too much death. Eyes that once sparkled with mischief were now flat and hard.

“In the flesh.”

“And that?” Dax nodded toward the cane Luke held in his left hand.

“A shot to the leg. It’s almost healed. I returned home in March to recuperate and found this.” His arm swept over the devastation. “The neighbors, those who are left, told me of father and
André
. I hadn’t heard.”

Dax clasped Luke on the shoulder, pain for all they’d lost consuming him. He had little stomach for rebuilding a new life at the source of his greatest loss. As the oldest surviving son, he knew his responsibilities now included Luke, no matter that this brother was a seasoned twenty-five-year-old ex-major.

Dax strode to one of the stacks of rubble, picked up a broken piece of china, then threw it back onto the pile. “Where are you staying?”

“With the Yanceys.”

Dax cast a knowing look at Luke. “So you’ll finally succumb to Violet’s charms and marry her?” Perhaps it would be for the best if Luke settled down and began a family.

“Violet? No, Dax. I have no plans to marry. And even if I did, she’s not the one I’d choose.”

They walked to the front, Luke climbing into the carriage he borrowed from the elder Yancey, while Dax mounted Hannibal, the imposing stallion who’d seen him through the war and saved his life on numerous occasions.

“You will stay with me. The Yanceys will be glad to have you, and it will give us a chance to talk of the future.” Luke tapped the horses.

Dax rode alongside, unsure how to explain to Luke he had no plans to stay and rebuild what they’d lost. He’d deed his portion of the land to his brother, then set out to find a new life elsewhere, where the skills he’d acquired during the war would be useful. Luke reveled in the social life of a large city, while Dax had preferred to spend his time at the docks, captaining the family ships and expanding their holdings.

The war had changed more than the landscape. Sometime over the long years of battle, Dax had lost his consuming drive to achieve, build the most prosperous shipping fleet in Savannah and help lead Georgia to the glory he felt it deserved—the showplace of the South.

For now, he’d enjoy Luke’s company and the hospitality the Yancey’s offered. He wouldn’t wait long—a week, maybe two—then he’d tell Luke of his decision to leave Savannah forever.

“You’re sure of this, Rachel? It’s not too late to change your mind and stay here in Boston. I’m certain Charles will understand.” Rachel’s father, James Davenport, gripped his daughter’s last piece of luggage, a satchel she’d keep by her side during the long trip. It held money, two changes of clothes, sundries, a couple of books, and her diary. His voice shook, indicating the depth of his emotions at losing his daughter a second time—once to the war, and now to the western frontier.

Rachel turned to him with the warm smile he’d become used to seeing over the last two months. Today, however, it didn’t exhibit its usual glow. Sadness rimmed her eyes, even as determination defined her features.

“This is something I must do, Father. I know my decision is hard for you and Mother, and there’s no adequate reason I can offer. It’s just something I must do. Please understand and wish me well.”

The pleading look she trained on him broke her father’s last thread of defense.

“Oh, Rachel. What are your mother and I to do without you?” He pulled her to him and into the type of hug he’d offered as a child. It didn’t last more than a few seconds before he turned her loose and stepped back. “You will write to us every week, even while traveling. Don’t miss a week, or your mother will demand I go after you.”

“Would that be so bad, Father? To come visit me in Montana?” Rachel hoped he hadn’t heard the slight quiver in her voice. As strong and determined as Rachel appeared, she still anxious about making the journey alone. But something drew her. An unfamiliar calling that almost demanded she leave the comforts of Boston for the unknowns of the West.

“No, it’s not a bad idea. All I need is time to persuade your mother there is life beyond the Mississippi.” He waved to their driver, who jumped down from the carriage and began loading the three trunks packed with almost everything Rachel owned.

“Are we ready, James?” Rachel’s mother joined them on the front step.

“It appears so, dear.” He checked his pocket watch.

James helped Harriet and Rachel into their carriage, then signaled to the driver. He sat across from the two most important women in his life, sobered at the thought this might be the last time the three of them enjoyed a ride through the city, past the park where they’d taken family picnics, and the theatre, which had been a focal point of their life before the war. A tightness formed in his chest as they approached the train station, while pride in his daughter held him together. In his heart, he knew she’d do well, and prayed she’d come back to them soon.

“I see.” Luke sat in the old rocker on the porch of the Yancey home, rocking back and forth, holding a cheroot and listening as Dax attempted to justify his decision to leave. “So you’ll leave it all, turn your back on what our family built, and find a new life.” His voice held a calm understanding, quite unlike the temper he’d often displayed in his youth. “You’ll leave me behind?”

Dax knew his decision would appear harsh, even selfish, given he’d fought five long years to preserve their way of life. They’d owned eight slaves, descendants of a family who’d been with their great-grandfather when he’d built the home that now lay in ruin. All had lived through the war, yet they now made their home in an abandoned warehouse owned by the Pelletier family. No one understood how it had been spared when the buildings around it had been reduced to rubble.

“There’s money. More than enough to rebuild both the house and business. Although free, our people have stayed. You know Polly and George will keep everyone together and help you rebuild. I doubt much will change, except they will be free to leave if they choose.”

“And the shipping business?”

“It can be rebuilt, if it’s what you want.”

Luke blew out smoke and tapped ash from the end of his thin cigar. “I was never the captain you were, and don’t know anything about rebuilding a shipping empire.” He looked away, toward the setting sun. “I had other interests at that time.”

They both knew to what Luke referred. Although he had a better head for business than Dax, he’d been considered the golden boy, the one who could charm anyone. Their father had once called him an aspiring rake. Had the war not interrupted him, Dax felt certain his brother would have risen to fame within the female circles of Savannah.

“What are your interests now?” Dax stood and placed his hands on the porch rail, looking out into the western sky as the sun finished its descent.

“Guess I’ll need to think on it a bit. If your decision is firm—”

“It is,” Dax cut in.

“Then it changes everything.” He threw the spent cheroot toward the yard. “When do you leave?”

“Four days from now, at dawn.”

Luke used his cane to stand, then joined his brother at the railing. “That gives me four days to figure out what I’ll do once you leave. Guess I’d better visit George and Polly tomorrow.”

“I’ll deed my interest in everything to you. It will all be yours.”

“No. I won’t take what is rightfully yours, what you worked years to build and then defended during the war.” His fierce words surprised Dax.