Redemption's Edge Read Free

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.
    “I don’t want it, Luke.”
    “What you want means little to me right now. No matter what I decide to do, I will not take your half. Besides, you may change your mind and come back.”
    Dax shook his head, a feeling deep in his gut telling him he’d never set foot in Savannah again. “All right, if that’s what you want.”
    Luke started to turn, then glanced back at his brother. “Come on. Miss Rue still has her place open. I’ll buy the drinks, you decide on the women.”

    “Hello, ma’am. Mind if I join you?”
    The soft southern drawl had Rachel looking up to see an incredibly good-looking man staring down at her, a hat in his hand. “Please.” She nodded to the seat beside her and watched as he tried to fit his long legs into the small space. She guessed him to be well over six feet tall. “Not quite built for large men, is it?”
    “No, ma’am. Most trains aren’t. I’m Cash Coulter.”
    “Rachel Davenport, Mr. Coulter. It’s nice to meet you.”
    “A city girl?”
    “Yes. From Boston. And you, Mr. Coulter? Where are you from?”
    “The South, ma’am.” Cash set his well-worn hat on his head and tipped it down, hiding his face and shutting Rachel out.
    It had been three months since the war ended and animosity between those from the Northern and Southern states remained high. Rachel had worked in Union field hospitals, moving from one battlefield to the next as the war progressed. Within a few short weeks with work days stretching to thirty hours at times, the sight of injured men had become normal. During the two years Rachel had worked in the field, she’d treated soldiers from both sides of the line—gray or blue, it didn’t matter. If they were injured, the medical staff treated them.
    She watched Cash’s features as he settled into a light snore. He had what her mother would call patrician features—a straight nose, blond hair, piercing clear blue eyes, and a regal bearing. Something about his attitude, although cultured and polite, warned her away from the man.
    The whistle blew as the train approached the final stop in Missouri, pulling toward the station. Cash’s head snapped up, his hand moving with lightning speed to the holstered gun as his eyes shifted to the woman beside him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and sat up.
    “I believe this is our stop, Mr. Coulter.” Rachel’s tired voice underscored how exhausting her trip had been, and she still had many miles to go.
    Cash stood, signaling for her to step in front of him into the aisle. He helped her to the railroad platform before tipping his hat.
    “Guess I’ll be on my way, Miss Davenport. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
    “Thank you, Mr. Coulter. I wish you a safe journey.”
    Cash glanced back over his shoulder at her words, nodded, then continued on.
    She watched him walk toward the back of the train and wait while a worker drew open the sliding door and set up a ramp. He strode into the open car and, a minute later, led out a beautiful buckskin horse with a dark mane and tail. He tied the horse to a nearby post and stepped into the car once more. This time, he emerged holding a saddle and