The Outsider (28 page)
“But you will.”
Anderson looked away from his commanding stare. “My chances would be better if … if she wasn’t with child.”
Dodge squeezed his eyes shut. After a moment, he said, “But she is.”
“She’s young and strong. I’ll do everything I can to prevent complications.”
“But you can’t guarantee there’ll be none?”
“No. I understand a man’s desire to have an heir, but you’d better prepare yourself for the worst.”
“She can have other children….”
The nedoctor pressed his shoulder. “I wish I could tell you the odds were in your favor, but with this kind of injury, and the severity and internal trauma
of it—I’d be lying to you. Most likely she won’t be able to conceive again.”
The news buffeted him with chilling consequence.
No children. No family. Where was the fairness? The justice?
“Do whatever you have to do to save her, Doc … to save them both, if you can.”
The next two hours were the longest Dodge could remember. He wished for some of Tyler’s oblivion as each thought, each fractured dream, wrought fresh slashes of anguish and guilt. What kind of future would he and Starla share, a future barren of promise because of his stubborn stand against a town that didn’t want his help? He challenged and second-guessed his every move, from asking Starla to marry him to the words they’d exchanged before she’d gone to fetch the doctor, knowing he was somehow responsible for her lying upstairs in her family home, about to lose the only child she might ever have.
The only child she could ever give him.
The only thing that hurt quite as much as that knowledge was the thought of losing Starla….
“Mr. Dodge, Mr. Fairfax.”
They turned.
Doc Anderson looked at them for a long moment, then said, “I’ve done all I can do. It’s up to God and Starla now.”
Dodge forced himself to ask: “And the baby?”
The doctor shook his head sadly.
He choked down the shock, then said, “I want to see her.”
Anderson halted Dodge’s struggle to stand. “Not now. She needs total quiet and time to heal. Matilda has instructions to come for me if—when—she wakes. Until then, no disturbances of any kind. Mr. Dodge, I suggest you go home and to bed if you’re going to be any good at all for her when she really needs you. Mr. Fairfax … sober up. Good morning, gentlemen.”
After the weary doctor left, Dodge looked longingly at the house. Surprisingly, he found an ally in the man who’d only hours ago tried to beat the hell out of him.
“I’ll send Tilly to let you know when there’s a change.”
Dodge stared at Tyler for a minute, then simply said, “Thank you.” He fought his way up, fitting his crutches under him, and was about to start for the buggy when Tyler gripped his wrist.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Tyler told him, sounding suddenly sober and possessed of a somber truth.
Dodge couldn’t find the voice to reply.
He couldn’t go back to the home they shared, to the house where they’d discussed which room to use as a nursery. Instead, Dodge found himself at the bank, sitting behind his desk, wondering with an odd calm if it was proper to close the doors, citing a death in the family.
He never heard the door to the bank open but suddenly found himself engulfed in Patrice Garrett’s
embrace as she wept. “Oh, Dodge, I’m so terribly, terribly sorry. We just heard. She’ll be all right. I know she will.”
Numbly, he marveled at the speed at which bad news traveled in a small town as he leaned his forehead against her perfumed shoulder. Eventually, he noticed Reeve standing behind his wife, looking awkward in his sympathy as he offered, “Is there anything we can do?”
Yes. Give me back the last twelve hours!
He settled for saying a quiet, “No. Not just now.”
Patrice rocked back, then gasped at the sight of his face. “What happened to you?” He winced as her fingertips brushed his swollen cheek.
“Had some company last night. That’s what got Starla worked up enough to go to Fair Play. It’s my fault—”
Patrice hushed the rest with the press of her hand over his mouth. “Don’t say that; don’t think it. It’s not true, Dodge.”
But he did, and it was. He regarded her impassively, knowing better than to argue. Instead, he said, “I need some coffee.”
Flanked by his best friends, Dodge worked his way down to Sadie’s, where the dining room was just beginning to fill up with those eager for an early lunch. He looked purposefully away from Delyce’s teary gaze as he headed for his usual table.
It was then that he heard the sneering drawl from a group of diners he passed.
“Well, boys, thanks to me there’s one less Yank bastard to worry about.”
Dodge stopped, not quite believing what he’d
heard from Ray Dermont. Patrice gripped his elbow, urging him onward.
“Let it go, Dodge,” she cautioned.
He turned slowly to confront the Dermonts.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me, Yank, or are you deaf as well as lame and just plain dumb?”
A sudden blanking coldness seeped through Dodge’s mind as he said, “Are you telling me you’re responsible for what happened to my wife?” His attention riveted to the gouges scratched into Ray’s beefy neck. Rage quivered through him, quickening a dangerous tension. “Did you put your hands on her?”
“Hell, Yank, who hasn’t put their hands on her?”
“That’s a lie.”
Dermont laughed, missing the deadly edge in Dodge’s soft-spoken words. “Joke’s on you. Didn’t you know she was a whore, just like her mama?”
Ray Dermont had time to blink once. Dodge gripped a handful of his hair and drove his face into the tabletop, pulping his nose before throwing him over backward, chair and all. Reeve stepped in, setting his pistol down on the table, a warning to the other two brothers that it would be best for them just to sit back in their chairs and relax.
His features unrecognizable through the twist of controlling fury, Dodge sat astride Ray Dermont, determined to pound his head through the floorboards. He might have succeeded had Dermont not pulled a knife from his boot. Spotting the movement
out of the corner of his eye, Dodge deflected the jab meant to take him under the ribs and wrested the blade away. He swung it up over his head and was beginning the downward arc toward Dermont’s black heart.
“No, please!”
Delyce’s frantic cry made Dodge pause long enough for some degree of sanity to return. Leaning close enough for his seething breaths to scorch the other’s face, Dodge whipped the knife edge up against Ray’s throat, raising a line of red beading.
“If anything happens to my wife, nothing this side of hell’s going to keep me from finishing this.”
“Told you not to mess with him,” Reeve said to the other two Dermonts. “He’s a tough little bastard when he gets riled.” He bent to grip Dodge by the elbows. “C’mon. I don’t think you need any coffee.”
As Reeve hauled Dodge to his feet, Poteet Dermont made a foolish grab for Reeve’s gun. With a move so fast that none actually saw it, Dodge stabbed the knife blade through the back of his hand, pinning it to the table. As Poteet howled, Dodge told him with a cold ferocity, “Next time my aim will be better.”
With Reeve steering him toward the door, Dodge headed for it under his own power, his steps uneven but managing to support him. Only when he entered the foyer did his knees buckle. He depended on Reeve to hold him up until Patrice levered the crutches under his arms.
“I want to go see my wife.”
“I can’t imagine anyone getting in your way,” his friend mused.
But Reeve was wrong. When Dodge arrived at Fair Play, he found his entrance barred by the two burly men he’d vanquished in Pride. They were backed by four others of equally impressive bulk.
“I want to see my wife.”
“Mr. Fairfax wants to see you in his study.”
“Tell Tyler—”
“Mr. Cole, not Mr. Tyler.”
His patience frayed, his resources draining, Dodge allowed them to escort him into a different room. Now the wizened old man sat behind an expensive teakwood desk. In a creased if ill-fitting suit, his eyes clear and fixed upon his guest, Cole Fairfax was more imposing than he was pitiful. Dodge knew a prickle of alarm.
“What can I do for you, Mr. Dodge?”
“I’ve come to see Starla.”
“I’m afraid I can’t allow that. You see, her health is very fragile, and it’s obvious you aren’t capable of caring for her.”
“I want my wife.”
“But she doesn’t want you, sir.”
Few things could have struck him as badly just then. His tolerance gave.
“I’m taking her home.”
“She
is
home. You heard the doctor, Mr. Dodge: my daughter can’t be moved, and I will not allow you to further endanger her life now that she’s where she belongs. Do you honestly think she’ll want to see you? Her child died because of your
stubbornness. There’s nothing left to tie you to my family. My lawyers will see this sham of a marriage ended, and if you come here again, I’ll have you shot as a trespasser.”
Dodge stared at him, too stunned to object.
“Gentlemen, see Mr. Dodge out, and see that he doesn’t find his way back here again.”
Twilight slanted across the pale features of the woman in bed, the deepening shadows making her stillness seem more sinister to the man clutching her hand so tightly.
To Tyler Fairfax, the whole world narrowed to the soft whisper of his sister’s breathing. He’d sat for hours watching that gentle rhythm, considering each repetition a further sign of forgiveness for his sins. It had been a long time since he’d requested any favors from above. In truth, he’d almost forgotten how to pray, but seeing Starla lying there, hovering between here and beyond, reminded him of a lot of things he’d forgotten. The words, the vows, the bargaining were all sincere when he’d spoken, and he hoped God wasn’t as big a cynic as he was so that He’d actually believe Tyler would come through on those promises if He’d only let his sister live.
He hadn’t slept in days. Weariness threatened his vigil and it became a battle every time he blinked to force his eyelids to rise again. Maybe he needed a little respite, just to rest the ache in his eyes and
the terrible gnawing at his soul for a few minutes.
From the chair he’d angled next to the bed, he slumped on the edge of the mattress, pillowing his cheek on his sister’s upturned palm. In seconds the edges of awareness began to blur and ebb, which was why he doubted the reality of her fingers moving against his damp face. Until she spoke.
“Tony….”
“Star? Starla, darlin’?”
He sat up to the incredible reward of watching his sister’s eyes fluttering open. It didn’t matter that there was no recognition in her foggy gaze, only that she’d defeated the greatest obstacle. She’d decided to come back to him.
“It’s all right, darlin’. I’m here.”
“Tony?”
“It’s Tyler, darlin’. An’ I’m gonna take good care of you, so you jus’ rest, y’hear?”
She seemed comforted by the words, by the stroke of his hand on her hair. Her eyes flickered shut, and on the quiet sound of her sigh, Tyler forgot most of the vows he’d made. Except one.
To keep his sister safe.
“How is she?”
Tyler stiffened at the sound of his father’s voice behind him. An uneasy prickling stirred against the back of his neck, but he didn’t turn. He hadn’t known the old man was strong enough to climb the stairs.
“She’s gonna be all right, I think.”
Cole Fairfax said nothing more for a long moment. When he did, his words struck terror into Tyler’s jaded soul.
“My little girl’s back home again, just the way it should be, the three us. Like it was before. Our darlin’s come back. An’ that’s the way it’s gonna stay—right, boy?”
Tyler squeezed his eyes closed against the nightmare images his mind created. His reply was little more than a whisper.
“Jus’ like before.”
Dodge had drifted off into a restless slumber on the parlor chaise when a soft knock at the door startled him into all manner of panicked thoughts. The hour was late. Visits close to midnight rarely had good consequence.
He stared at the Fairfaxes’ maid, Matilda, with a paralyzing dread twisting through his middle. He couldn’t make himself ask it.
Is she dead?
“Mister Tyler sent me to tell you Miss Starla has waked up.”
Dodge’s knees went watery. Only the support of his crutches held him up. For a moment, he could only breathe slow and deep into his relief.
“Did she ask for me?” he said at last.
“He didn’t say nothin’ about that, sir, only that I was to tell you what I told you.”
“Thank you. And thank him for me.”
With a nod the old woman slipped away.
After the weakening sense of relief had passed, Dodge returned to the front room, to his solitary thoughts. With Starla out of danger, he had some serious consequences to consider. The baby was no
longer there to hold them in an unconsummated marriage.
Cole Fairfax’s threats could become reality.
Would Starla want to come back to him? Was there anything left to keep them together? The baby was gone. Noble Banning had returned. He found himself helpless to retrieve his own wife from her father’s home. What could he do? There was no law in Pride—except that privilege made power, and might gave right to those who could claim it. He had the military expertise and the simple daring to plan an assault upon Fair Play to retake his bride. A fierce possessiveness growled through him, pushing him to make that commitment to a cause, the same commitment that had made him a good, even great, commander on the battlefield. But he wouldn’t commit without that cause. And he had to know if Starla wanted to be claimed. She’d had enough bullying men in her life, pulling her in all directions without a care to her feelings.
He had to know the state of her heart before he could act upon the forces driving his.
It was early. Dawn had just begun to sketch pastels along the horizon and the town of Pride slumbered lazily in the dog days of summer.
Dodge had finally fallen deeply asleep, so the sound of another visitor at his door dragged him up out of a healing oblivion. He tried to stand and found he couldn’t. The effects of his beating several nights before—though now it seemed like weeks—had congealed into a solid protesting ache,
making movement next to impossible. Until his guest gave a yell.