Redemption's Edge (5 page)

Charles could hear the anxiety in the man’s voice as he described his brother’s symptoms.

“All right. Why don’t you wait in the front while Rachel and I have a look?” He paused when Dax began to object, but shook his head. “It’s better if you’re not in here, young man. Let us do our work.” Charles focused back on the sick man. “What’s his name?”

“Luke.” Dax drew in a deep breath and closed the door behind him, leaving the doctor and nurse to care for his brother.

“Rachel, get me some laudanum, water, and broth.”

“What is it?”

“An infection. Probably dysentery.” He looked up at Rachel, knowing she’d had firsthand experience with the various diseases and fevers which killed many during the war. “Let his brother know we’ll need to keep him here. It’s in the early stages, which makes his chance of survival good.”

She helped her uncle before stepping into the front area. Dax stood when she walked into the room, fingering the brim of his hat and trying to curb his apprehension.

“What is it?”

“Appears to be an intestinal infection, Mr…”

“Pelletier. Dax Pelletier.”

“All right, Mr. Pelletier. The doctor is treating him, but your brother will need to stay with us for now, at least until the fever breaks. The doctor thinks he has a good chance of recovering if we can get fluids into him and relieve the stomach pain. ”

He absorbed her words, wanting to feel relief, yet not wanting to put too much hope in her statement. Dax pushed a hand through his ink black hair and let out a breath.

“Thank you for what you’re doing for Luke.”

“It’s what I’ve been trained to do. I’ve done it for close to three years now.”

“During the war?”

“That’s right. I worked in Union field hospitals. Afterwards, I moved back home to Boston for a couple of months before joining my uncle here in Splendor.” She watched his expression, but saw no hint of censure. “Did you fight for the South, Mr. Pelletier?”

“Yes, ma’am, I did. So did Luke.” He lowered himself into a chair, exhaustion and concern for his brother overwhelming him. It seemed odd. He’d fought in more battles than he could count, killed men, and watched many die at the hands of others. Somehow, this journey from Texas to Montana, bringing Pat’s body home and then Luke’s sudden illness, seemed to weigh more heavily on him.

“Do you have a place to stay, Mr. Pelletier?”

“Not yet. We just got into town. Been traveling for over a month. We were almost here when Luke…” His voice trailed off as he thought of losing his brother from a fever now after they’d both made it through the war.

“What brings you to Splendor?”

“The request of a friend.”

His answer puzzled her. “Does it have anything to do with the coffin in your wagon?” Her tone softened as she guessed what might bring two men all the way to Montana from Texas.

“That’s our friend, Pat Hanes. He owned a ranch around here. His last request was to be buried on his land. Did you know him?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’ve been in Splendor just a few months. Hold on a minute.” She poked her head back into the room where her uncle stood over Luke. “Did you know a Pat Hanes?”

“I’ve heard the name, but never met the man. Why?”

“The Pelletiers brought his body back here for burial. Mr. Pelletier says he owned a ranch.”

“Might be the one Hank and Bernice Wilson manage north of here. Best place to check is with Horace Clausen. He knows everyone who owns property in these parts.”

She closed the door, looking back at Dax. “You might want to check with Mr. Clausen at the bank.”

Dax stood and looked past her toward the examination room.

“It’s all right, Mr. Pelletier. Your brother will be fine with us. The bank is down the street. If you hurry, you may catch him before they close for lunch.”

“Is Mr. Clausen available?”

“He is. May I tell him your name?” The bank clerk set down her pen and took in the stranger’s appearance, her face impassive.

“Dax Pelletier.”

A moment later, a tall, slender man with graying hair and short beard walked toward him, extending a hand. “I’m Mr. Clausen. How may I help you, Mr. Pelletier?”

Dax looked around at the clerk and two other customers in the bank. “May we speak in private?”

“Of course.”

Dax followed Clausen into his office and took a seat as the man closed the door.

“My brother and I are Texas Rangers. Our friend, Pat Hanes, died while we were hunting some bank robbers—shot by their leader. He asked us to bring him here for burial on his ranch. Did you know him?” From the look on Clausen’s face, Dax assumed the man did, indeed, know his friend.

“I’m sorry to hear this. Mr. Hanes was a good man. I know he looked forward to the day he could return to Splendor and work his ranch full-time.”

“That’s what he told my brother and me. If you could give me directions to his ranch, I’ll take him out there, make sure he has a decent burial.” Dax handed the banker a document signed by a doctor and their captain, attesting to Pat’s death.

“Hank Wilson and his wife, Bernice, have been tending the place, along with the hired hands. They’ll know what to do.” Clausen walked to a file cabinet against a wall.

“Thanks, Mr. Clausen. I guess I’d better get going.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Wait a minute, Mr. Pelletier. It would be best to sign the necessary documents now, before you leave. That way, it will all be legal.”

Confused, Dax looked at the man. “Legal?”

“Why, yes. Didn’t Pat tell you the provisions of his will?” Clausen pulled out the file and sat back down at his desk, looking over the document.

“What will?”

“Ah, I see he didn’t tell you. Pat was a thorough man. He knew his chances of dying on the job were decent so, the last time he visited Splendor, he made arrangements for the passage of ownership. It states that if he died as a Ranger, whomever brought his body back to the ranch would become the legal owner.” Clausen looked up at Dax. “Plus, there is a sizable account here at the bank that is also yours.” He slid a bank record across the desk for Dax to read. “Congratulations, Mr. Pelletier. You and your brother are the new owners of some prime ranchland at the base of Redemption Mountain.”

Chapter Three

Ah, hell
,
Dax thought as he slumped back into the chair across the desk from the banker.

“By the look on your face, I can see Pat never mentioned any of this.”

“Not a word.”

“Nothing can be changed now. The property and money belong to you and your brother. I’d like to add, however, that Pat’s ranch is one of the best properties around Splendor. Good water, large expanses of grazing land, access to timber, and a house located in a protected valley.”

“Pat didn’t talk much about it, except to say he owned a decent amount of land.”

Clausen chuckled at the statement. “Depends on what you call decent. What would
you
call five thousand acres?”

Dax’s head spun from the information. He and Luke now owned a massive amount of land in Montana. He signed for his portion before leaving the bank to take Pat’s body to his ranch—well, his and Luke’s ranch now.

Clausen provided directions, telling Dax it would take about an hour by wagon to get to the main house, even though the edge of the ranch began a mile outside of Splendor. He tied Hannibal to the back, intending to leave the wagon at the ranch and ride his horse back to town. He stopped by the clinic to let the doctor and Miss Davenport know he’d be back that evening. They’d been encouraging about Luke’s progress. He rested peacefully for the first time in a few days and his fever had lessened, which gave everyone hope he’d pull through.

Dax’s thoughts turned to the pretty nurse and wondered why a privileged woman of the North would risk her life traveling to the wilderness and an unknown future. He hadn’t been with a woman in months, and never a decent one like her. Before the war, he focused his attention on building the shipping business. He’d courted little, never experiencing the urge to marry or settle down. His female adventures before the war centered on women he’d never consider introducing to his parents. They were a way to kill time and relieve tension, nothing more. Something about Miss Davenport called to him in a way that sent warning signals through his body.

Dax shook his head and concentrated on the rut-filled trail ahead. There were few fences in this wide expanse of rangeland. The only sign he’d entered the ranch appeared on a large boulder with one word, HANES, painted near the top. No matter what Dax and Luke decided to do, keep the place or sell it, the name would remain on that rock as a reminder of the man who’d died before having the chance to enjoy his land.

The wind picked up as he continued, sending a chill clear through him, which didn’t ease the remainder of the journey. Dax supposed he should be grateful the rain Clausen warned him to expect didn’t appear.

He’d been traveling about an hour when a large barn and house came into view. A woman stood at the back of the home, taking clothes from the line, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun’s glare as she turned in his direction. Dax lifted a hand and waved. She didn’t respond as she dropped the clothes in a basket and walked toward the front of the house, always keeping him in sight. Dax could hear her yelling before a short and stocky older man appeared from the barn, holding a rifle in his hand.

Dax nodded to both as he pulled the wagon to a stop and jumped down.

“Hold it there, mister. What business do you have out here?” The man didn’t raise the gun, although his words held a warning.

“My name’s Dax Pelletier. My brother, Luke, and I worked with Pat Hanes down in Texas.”

He saw the woman glance toward the back of the wagon, then cast a worried gaze to the man who Dax assumed to be her husband, Hank Wilson, the man Clausen mentioned during their meeting.

“We were chasing a gang of bank robbers when Pat got shot. He didn’t make it.” Dax nodded at the coffin. “We brought him home to be buried.”

The woman gasped and hurried toward the wagon. The man took longer to absorb the news, taking slow steps to join the woman.

“I’ve got a letter from our captain at the Ranger office in Austin.” He reached into a jacket pocket and pulled it out. “Would you like to read it?”

The man took the letter from Dax’s hand and read through it. “I’m Hank Wilson. This is my wife, Bernice. We’ve been running the place with the help of the ranch hands while Pat finished up his duties in Texas.” He took a deep breath. “Guess our work here is over.”

“I wouldn’t count on it. Did Pat ever mention his will? His plans for the place if he died?”

“He did. I suppose you and your brother are the new owners.”

Dax didn’t explain how he wanted no part of the place and had known nothing of the terms in Pat’s will. “We are.”

“Then you’ll probably be wanting to run things how you see fit, hire your own people. It’ll take us a few days to pack up.”

Dax understood the uncertainty the man felt. “Let’s talk about all that after we bury Pat. Do you know if he had a place in mind?”

“There’s a patch out back of the house he mentioned would make a fine place to rest. Guess that’s where he’d want to be. I’ll get a shovel.”