Survivor Pass Read online

  Only one man knew of the changes in Cash, the dark side no one else saw, and he’d take his knowledge to the grave. Beau Davis, his fellow deputy in Splendor, had lived through a similar hell. Unlike Cash, he’d been able to keep his inner rage under control, not letting it defeat him. His work as a bounty hunter hadn’t lessened the violence buried within him. Neither had his work as a deputy in Splendor, a town he’d grown to love. If Gabe Evans and others in the town had any idea of the demons he kept hidden, he knew his days as a small town deputy would come to an end, along with any peace he’d been able to find.

  Waiting until he heard Stephen’s deep breathing and the men in the camp bedded down, Cash made his way through the thick stand of trees. They’d made their camp along the Arkansas River, a few miles downstream from Stephen’s ranch. The dense brush provided the perfect cover for what he hoped would be an easy job of convincing the man hunched alone, yards from the others, to abandon his friends.

  Getting to within a foot of the man, his gun drawn, Cash tapped him on the shoulder. His head whipped around, only to be greeted by a hard fist, then another. He dragged the unconscious man away from the camp, stopping once to stuff a bandanna in his mouth and tie his hands behind him.

  Cash muttered a curse as he began to tire. The man was much larger and heavier than he first suspected. Breaking through the trees, he came to a halt at the look in his friend’s eyes.

  “What the hell? You should’ve woken me.” Stephen stared at the unconscious man before locking his gaze on Cash. Standing, he shifted his weight to his right leg, adjusted the prosthesis on his left, then walked toward the man who now moaned as he regained consciousness. Yanking the bandanna from his mouth, he stepped back and waited.

  Shaking his head, he looked up at the men towering over him. Staring, he focused on Cash’s face.

  “Captain?”

  Cash’s eyes widened. Dropping to a crouch, he took a good look at the man he’d disabled and dragged through the dirt, cursing when recognition hit.

  “Wyatt?” He mumbled another curse. “What the hell are you doing riding with this bunch?” Cash stood, helping him up and untying his hands.

  “Here.” Stephen handed Wyatt a flask filled with whiskey.

  Wyatt tipped it back, taking a swallow.

  “Ramsey? I thought you died at the Battle of Atlanta.” Wyatt took one more swig, then handed the flask back.

  “Not hardly, Jackson. Those Union bastards took my leg, not my life.” Stephen glared at him. They’d both been first lieutenants under Cash’s command, although their duties couldn’t have been more different. Stephen commanded an infantry platoon, while Wyatt Jackson handled special assignments known only to Cash and his superiors. Stephen always suspected the jobs included spying and assassinations, but he’d never asked.

  “Wyatt, answer my question. What are you doing with those rustlers?” Cash’s patience had ended. He needed answers.

  “I’m not with them, Captain. I’ve been watching the gang for several weeks. There’s a bounty out on one of them and I aim to collect it.” He rubbed his jaw, wincing at the lump already forming. Swearing, he looked at Cash. “Did you have to hit me so hard?”

  Cash ignored the question, letting the information Wyatt provided roll over in his mind.

  “What’s he wanted for?”

  “Murder and robbery in Tennessee.” Wyatt nodded toward the camp. “I couldn’t get him alone and didn’t want to face the entire gang, so I decided the best approach was to join them. I met up with them a few nights ago.” He glanced over Cash’s shoulder toward the camp. “You know, it won’t be long before they notice I’m gone.”

  Cash moved so he could see the camp, watching as one man stood to toss another log on the fire, not bothering to look around before returning to his bedroll.

  “What do you know about them?” Cash crossed his arms, narrowing his gaze at Wyatt.

  “Besides being wanted for murder? Not much. All served the Confederacy, then banded up after the war ended. They rustle cattle, robbing a stage or bank when it suits them. Someone hired them to scare a local rancher—encourage him to sell out.”

  Cash shot a look at Stephen. It had been over a week since the last raid on his place.

  “Do you have a name of who hired them?” Stephen asked.

  “No. I didn’t ask. I’m not here to dig into their business. All I want is to get the man I’m after and ride out.” Wyatt scowled, then scrubbed a hand along his stubbled jaw. The last few months had been a nightmare. “He attacked my sister and murdered her husband.” He let out a breath, taking a few steps away, his face showing the misery he felt. “I’d gone into town for a drink and a few hands of cards. I got tangled up with one of the women and didn’t make it back to the farm until late. I found my sister huddled in a corner, her dress torn, blood all over her.” He looked up, his eyes haunted in a way Cash had seen many times during the war. “He raped her, then murdered my brother-in-law. She killed herself a week later.” His voice broke and he turned away from them.

  During the war, Cash had given Wyatt orders that would haunt most men, but he carried them out without comment. He’d never shown an ounce of emotion—until this attack on his family. Cash didn’t need to dig too deep to know how Wyatt felt. His family had also been slain by raiders while tending their Louisiana farm. Tracking them, he’d felt the initial satisfaction of revenge, followed by lengthy bouts of depression and anger. Even now, Cash fought to keep his demons from consuming his life.

  “You don’t intend to take him in, do you?” Cash already knew the answer.

  Wyatt turned, his face contorted in pain. “No, Captain, I don’t.”

  Cash walked up to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Trust me, Wyatt. Revenge won’t help.”

  His tortured eyes met Cash’s. “You won’t talk me out of this, Captain.”

  “I’m no longer your captain, but I am your friend. We won’t stop you from your mission, but I’m asking for something in return.”

  Wyatt’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

  “Stephen’s farm is the one the gang is raiding. We need to know who put them up to it.”

  “We need a name,” Stephen added.

  Wyatt moved up to within inches of Cash’s face. “If I get you a name, you’ll let me ride out with my man?”

  “Yes.”

  Wyatt nodded, saying nothing more. Turning away, he moved silently through the darkness to rejoin the men who still slept, unaware of his absence. Slumping against a tree, he stared at the man who’d caused the deaths of two people he loved. Glancing over his shoulder in the direction where Cash and Stephen kept watch, he vowed to get the name and ride out of Arkansas with the man he’d come for all within a few days. He’d grown weary of the hunt. It was time to complete his duty and find the justice he sought.

  ~~~~~

  Chapter Three

  Splendor, Montana

  Several weeks later…

  “Good morning, Mrs. Burns. What can I do for you today?” Horace Clausen held open the door of the bank, letting her pass.

  “Hello, Mr. Clausen. I’ve a small deposit to make.”

  Horace chuckled. “Believe me, there are no small deposits.”

  As he moved to close the door, another man stepped inside.

  “Morning, Horace.” He nodded, then tipped his hat to Alison. “Ma’am.”

  Alison couldn’t stop the slight intake of breath when she took a good look at the stranger. Tall with overlong blond hair and striking green eyes, he had a coarse appearance she found extremely appealing, but also strangely unsettling.

  “Good to have you back in town. Cash, have you had a chance to meet our newest business owner?”

  “No, I haven’t had the pleasure.” Cash removed his hat and took a step forward.

  “Mrs. Burns, allow me to introduce Cash Coulter. He’s one of Sheriff Evans’ deputies.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Coulter.”

  “T
he pleasure is mine, Mrs. Burns. Welcome to Splendor.” A weary smile crossed his face, his eyes crinkling a little at the corners as his gaze lingered on hers. “What business do you have?”

  “I bought the millinery and seamstress shop next to the bank.”

  “I’m certain you’ll be quite successful as the women in Splendor were vocal in their disappointment when it closed.” He raised his brows at Horace, who nodded in understanding. The women in town allowed themselves few luxuries. For those who could afford it, the presence of a seamstress who could create hats, as well as alter clothes, made their lives much easier.

  “So far, business has been beyond my expectations.” She tightened her grip on her reticule, anxious to finish the deposit and return to her store, where she felt in control and safe. Something about Cash’s presence produced strange feelings she had no desire to examine. “Well, I’ll let you continue with your day, Mr. Coulter.”

  Cash tipped his hat, watching as she walked toward one of the tellers, then he turned to Horace. “I assume she’s married.”

  “A widow,” Horace answered. “From what I understand, her husband died during the war. She has no other family and decided to make a fresh start.”

  “Where did she come from?”

  “Kentucky. A long way for a lone woman to travel.”

  Cash nodded at Alison as she finished her deposit and left the bank. “Yes, it certainly is.”

  Alison worked all afternoon, not even stopping to eat, as she finished the dresses for Rachel, Ginny, and Abby. Along with other orders, she already knew there’d be a profit at the end of the month. Completing the last stitch on one of the dresses, she glanced up at the sound of the bell above the entry door.

  “Mrs. Burns?”

  Alison moved to the front, her gaze taking in a young woman of average height with chestnut brown hair, bright green eyes, and freckles sprinkled across her nose and cheeks.

  “Yes, I’m Alison Burns.” She cocked her head, noting the package in the woman’s hands.

  “I’m Lydia Rinehart. I live at the Pelletier ranch and heard about you from Rachel.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other as she bit her bottom lip. Holding out the package, she hesitated a moment, as if deciding what to say.

  “Is that something you’d like me to look at?” Alison asked, noting the discomfort on Lydia’s face.

  “Yes. It’s just a simple store-bought dress.”

  “I’m sure it’s lovely. May I?” Alison took the package from Lydia’s outstretched hands, setting it on a table to remove the wrapping. Holding it up, she smiled at the pretty deep green calico print. “It’s beautiful. What is it you’d like me to do?”

  “The hem and sleeves are a little long, and…” Lydia didn’t finish.

  “And?” Alison tilted her head.

  “Nothing. If you could fix the hem and sleeves that would be wonderful.” Lydia clasped her hands in front of her. It had taken every penny she had to purchase the dress at Petermann’s General Store. She’d need to do extra chores to have enough money to pay for the changes.

  “Well, I can do that easily enough. When would you like it?”

  “The Pelletiers are having a party in two weeks. Do you think it would be ready by then?”

  Alison studied the dress, then placed it back on the table. “I can have it for you within a week.”

  “Only a week?” Lydia asked, her brows knitting together. “It may take me a few days longer to earn the money to pay you.” She worried her lower lip, then cleared her throat. “I did some sewing when I was younger, but it’s been a long time.”

  Alison’s heart warmed at the hesitancy in Lydia’s voice. “I understand. It will be ready next Monday. You come and get it whenever you’re ready.” She thought a moment, then quoted an amount. “If you don’t quite have the money before the party, you can pay me when you do. All right?”

  Lydia’s eyes lit up at the low price. “Yes, that would be wonderful. Thank you, Mrs. Burns.” For the first time, her face broke into a smile, her eyes sparkling. “It was nice to meet you.”

  The bell over the door caught both women’s attention.

  “I thought I might find you in here.” Rachel closed the door behind her, taking the few steps needed to stand next to Lydia.

  “You’re right. Mrs. Burns is wonderful. She’ll have the dress ready in time for the party.”

  Alison blushed at the compliment, feeling a renewed sense of guilt over the amount of deceit surrounding her. These were good people who’d accepted her without hesitating. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing it could all be different, knowing it couldn’t.

  “If you want to try them on, I have your dresses ready, Rachel.” Alison moved to a wooden rack that held her completed work. “You can change in there.” She pointed toward a curtain concealing a small dressing room.

  A few minutes later, Rachel emerged wearing a stunning blue silk evening gown with a scooped bodice, capped sleeves, fitted waist, and separate peplum. Alison had decorated it with yards of white silk braid and white and blue silk ribbon.

  “Oh my, Rachel. It’s absolutely beautiful, but where will you wear it?” Lydia’s brows lifted as her eyes widened.

  “Dax and Luke have been invited to the Governor’s Ball in Big Pine. Alison opening her shop came at the perfect time.” Rachel skimmed her hands down the exquisite dress, looking at Alison. “What do you think?”

  Alison walked around Rachel, taking in each seam and tuck. “I don’t believe I’d change anything.”

  “Wonderful. I’ll try on the other dress.”

  Half an hour later, Rachel and Lydia began their trip back to the Pelletier ranch, their wagon loaded with supplies, leaving Alison to her other jobs.

  Hanging up the last of the dresses for Ginny and Abby, she heard her stomach growl, realizing she’d skipped lunch again. It seemed to be a habit with the increase in business.

  She’d kept her rates low, hoping to garner more customers and compete with mail ordered clothing. Most women sewed, yet with their other chores, making a new dress never seemed a priority, especially when the only time available came after the children were asleep and they’d finished their regular mending.

  “It appears you are in deep thought, Mrs. Burns.”

  Alison jumped, her hand coming to her chest as she spun around to see Cash standing a few feet away.

  “Mr. Coulter, you startled me.” A nervous laugh escaped as she dropped her hand and stepped toward him.

  “My apologies. The bell over your door did ring, but it seems you were engrossed in your own world. I hope all is going well.” His eyes narrowed in what Alison interpreted as concern.

  “Yes, all is going quite well, thank you. May I help you with something?” She didn’t often work on men’s clothing, even though she had the skills to make pants, shirts, and coats.

  He cleared his throat, fingering the brim of the hat he held in front of him. “I know it may seem presumptuous, but I would be honored if you would accompany me to supper tonight.”

  Her hands stilled in front of her, the invitation catching her unaware. She’d been courted before the war, never meeting a man who’d made her heart thump or blood heat. Her mother and father had been deeply in love, never hesitating to embrace each other, even in public. Alison wanted the same kind of love…uninhibited and devoted.

  Looking at Cash, she noted the attractive combination of his thick hair, sun-browned skin, and broad shoulders. Then her gaze moved to his deep emerald eyes, which appeared distant and unemotional, as if he were looking through her instead of at her. She had the sudden urge to trace a finger down his face and across his full lips, learning the mysteries she felt certain he held deep inside.

  “It would be my pleasure to have supper with you, Mr. Coulter. Let me get my coat and close up.”

  The sun finished its descent behind the mountains as Cash escorted Alison to a restaurant on the other side of the bank. He made no move to offer his arm
as she kept a distance of no less than a foot between them.

  “Have you eaten in here yet?” he asked, opening the door to let her pass.

  “No, I haven’t. I usually cook or go to the boardinghouse for meals.” She glanced around the interior, noting the simple decorations and clean tables. “It smells wonderful.”

  “Suzanne’s boardinghouse is very good, and I eat there most of the time. It’s nice to have a place that isn’t always crowded with my friends, though.” He nodded at a woman walking toward them. “The owners used to be open for breakfast and dinner only. Now they offer supper. I come in about once a week. It spreads the business around.” His mouth tilted up at the corners as he pulled out her chair.

  “Hello, Cash. You must be Mrs. Burns, the seamstress.” A woman of medium height, as broad as she was tall, stood next to their table. “I’m Betts Jones. My husband and I own this place.”

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Jones.”

  “This is her first time in here, Betts. What’s your special tonight?”

  “Pot roast, and it’s incredible, even if I’m the one who made it.” She winked at Alison.

  Cash laughed as he glanced at Alison. Seeing her nod, he ordered two of the specials.

  “Horace Clausen told me you’re from Kentucky. Tell me what brings you this far west.” He sipped the coffee Betts set before him, leaning forward to get a better look at her face.

  Alison conveyed the same story she’d told everyone about her husband dying in battle, her mother passing not long after. It had become ingrained in her, the lies now streaming from her mouth with ease.

  “I’m sorry to hear about your husband. Many good people died during the war.”

  She’d glanced around the restaurant, not quite meeting his gaze. She needed to change the direction of their conversation. “Yes, they did. How long have you been here, Mr. Coulter?”

  “Close to two years. I came here looking for friends I’ve known since we were boys.”

  “Did you find them?”

  He chuckled. “I sure did. Dax and Luke Pelletier. They’re the ones who convinced Beau and me to become Gabe’s deputies. It’s worked for us so far.” His gaze never wavered from her face, making her squirm. Although his face held various expressions, his eyes never warmed or changed the way they appeared to slice right through her.