Chapter 16: Reckoning

Discipline. The word was often used to describe Rachel and there were times when she was proud of the descriptor. She employed it to get through the hard moments in life such as, her father's death and then her sister's. Moving up the ranks in the Marshal Service. Pushing Raylan away when all she wanted to do was pull him close. Yeah, discipline meant a great deal to Rachel.

As soon as her mind drifted to their earlier encounter at the window, he returned from the kitchen with two mugs of coffee. Interest brightened his dark eyes, but his demeanor was wholly professional. Painstakingly so. She began to wonder which one of them would break first. Then her phone buzzed. Raylan waited with the coffee while she answered the call.

"Hello, Art."

"Rachel," he said in greeting. "The lab's confirmed that it's Tim's blood at the scene."

"Okay," she said. "What should we expect?"

"It was a good hit," Art said. "CS hasn't found shell casings, so we don't have an idea how bad it was."

"We'll find him," Rachel said, responding to the unspoken concern she heard.

"Where are you?"

She held Raylan's stare and said, "We have reason to believe that he'd come to Harlan County. There are places here he could hide."

"Raylan's?"

"No, he's not… We looked. He didn't go there."

"I'll send another team to assist," Art said.

The call ended soon after, and when Rachel relayed Art's final message, she wasn't surprised by Raylan's response.

"We don't need help," he said. "Not in Harlan. The more people nosing around, the better chance of the Cassalottis finding Darla."

Rachel frowned. "Our people are good."

"Harlan County is different," Raylan said. "Some of our people will never know how to navigate this place."

As she accepted a coffee mug from him, she tilted her head. "Am I one of those people?"

"C'mon, Rachel." Raylan shot her a grin. "You handle Harlan just fine."

She bit back a smile. Warmth flooded her insides and she tried to ignore it. Focusing on the case seemed the best option. "Has he contacted you? Text? Missed called? Anything?"

"Nothing." Raylan's mouth tightened. "Could be he's too injured, but my gut…says he's here."

Rachel shrugged. She trusted Raylan's instincts. Besides, she agreed with him. What better place to hide than Harlan County? Now, if only she could think like her co-worker.

"A while back, he was spending some time up here," Raylan said, "with the snake handler's sister."

"Cassie moved away," she said.

"So you knew about that," he said.

"There wasn't much to know." Rachel sipped and leaned against a table. "You know Tim's been here as much as I have."

"Yeah?"

"We've interacted with the same usual suspects—"

"I doubt if he'd go to Crowder," Raylan cut in.

"Not Crowder. There's another safe haven here, right?"

Raylan nodded. "Limehouse."

R&R

Tim watched from the bed as Darla accepted the bottles of whiskey and aspirin from Limehouse's man, Ty. She cradled both to her chest and pushed the door close with her elbow. When their gazes caught, he witnessed the struggle of her smile.

"Hey," she said. "I thought you were sleep."

"You mean passed out again."

She frowned. "Yeah," she murmured. Darla set the new items on the nightstand beside the towels, needle, thread, lighter, alcohol, gauze, and cotton balls. "You sure about this?"

"Yep," he said. "It's just like sewing a button—"

"No," she said, "it's not. I'm pushing a needle through your—" She pressed her fist to her mouth.

"C'mere." Tim said, gesturing with a nod for her to sit. The bed shifted under her weight and pain shot through his shoulder. He bit his lip and offered a tight smile. "Get the JD."

Darla grabbed the bottle and a handful of gauze. "I should wash my hands again."

"No," he said. "take a sip."

She gave him a hard look. "I hate whiskey."

The look on her face made him want to laugh. "It'll…help. Take the edge off."

"It tastes like…" Her mouth twisted. She set the gauze back on the stand. "For you." She took a sip and frowned. "Gah!"

"A sip won't do it, Darla."

"Fine." She drank several sips until Tim nodded his approval. She extended the bottle to him. "Your turn."

Drinking the whiskey was not nearly as intoxicating as the feel of her hand against the back of his neck or the heat of her gaze as she watched him. The following minutes passed with Tim speaking in low, clear tones. He gave Darla instructions for what to do in case he passed out again. He wanted her to be prepared. She nodded. Her responses came in hoarse whispers, but she did everything he told her. At the end, he was surprised that he remained awake, but he wasn't surprised by her ability to stitch him up.

"I can get a mirror if you want to see," she offered.

"Would you redo it if I complained?" he teased, watching her as she gathered the supplies inside the towel and moved them to the dresser.

"If it would aid in your healing—"

"I'm kidding," he said.

Face serious, she nodded. "Okay." She returned with bandage strips and tape. When she finished, she said, "Does that hurt?"

"I'm good—"

"Maybe you should take the aspirin now."

"Darla," Tim said, taking her hand, "I just need a day. I'll be all right."

She stared at their joined hands for several seconds, then she smiled. "I hope you're not just telling me that."

"Would I do that?"

She frowned.

"No!" he said. "Don't do that. Your smile is a wonder drug. I felt crazy ass healing happening when you smiled."

She shook her head, but her smile remained.

"You have a beautiful smile."

"You had too much whiskey," she said. "No more for you."

"I'm serious," Tim said, "and you don't smile enough, but I get it."

"Are you flirting with me, Marshal?"

"If you have to ask, I must be doing something wrong," he mumbled with a pout.

She laughed. The sound was rich, hearty, and sexy as hell. With strength that he'd stored away just in case, Tim pulled Darla to him and kissed her. His stitches pulled and his wound hurt, but he didn't care.

R&R

"How did Noble's Hollow become a sanctuary?"

Raylan's thoughts had been divided between getting to the holler and whether the car behind them had been tailing them, but he still managed to register Rachel's question.

"There's always a guard on the bridge," he said. The road was just ahead, but he took a detour that put them in the direction in the old part of town. In a few miles, they'd run across the old Bennett store. Beside him, Rachel shifted. He sensed her frown before he glanced and saw it.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"That car—"

Her buzzing phone interrupted his explanation. She muttered a curse. "It's Joe."

At that, she turned and looked at the car that had made the turn behind them. "What the fuck is he doing?" she asked. "He must've put a tracking app on my phone. Shit!"

"Sonuvabitch!" Angered by all aspects of Joe's interference—impeding their search and the stress on Rachel, Raylan swerved off the road. To his surprise, the car continued down the road. "What the fuck?"

Raylan guided the Lincoln back onto the road and gunned the accelerator.

"Let him go," Rachel said.

"What did he text?"

She shook her head. "We need to find Tim and Darla."

"The text, Rachel." Raylan gripped the steering wheel. The sedan in front of them was unremarkable, probably a rental or something Joe found at a used car lot. Joe's speed wavered. So far, Raylan hung back, but he hadn't given up the notion to force the bastard off the road and beat the shit out of him.

"It's nothing," she said. "Just words."

"You're dodging," Raylan said, "and it makes me think that going after him is the right thing—"

"He said it won't ever be over," she said. "He's just hurt."

"You can't be that naïve," Raylan said. "You're smarter than that. He's threatening you. Tracking you. Does he have access to your bank account?"

"No, Raylan," she snapped. "I'm not stupid."

"I didn't say that."

"You're acting like I can't handle this," she said. "I didn't ask you to get involved. If Art or anyone at the Service finds out…"

"That's what you're worried about?" he asked. "Dammit, Rachel. A nutcase ex is no reflection on you and how you do your job! Give us some credit."

She shook her head. "You have no idea."

"I can't let him go," Raylan said, pressing the accelerator as the car in front of them began to speed. "I just can't. I know the damage a man like him can do. It starts off with you thinking that you understand him and you can handle it. Then he gets into your head, making you believe that his bullshit is your fault and you deserve all the hell he's throwing at you. But none of that's true. He's out of control. He followed us across country. He knows about us—"

"Us?" she repeated.

"Us," Raylan stated firmly. "I'm not backing out of this. Are you?"

"You're giving me an ultimatum in the middle of a car chase?" she asked. "Raylan?"

"Rachel," he said. "My track record isn't clean. You have every right to think I'm a fucking mess, but I've always been straight with you."

"There's Winona," Rachel said. "She's having your baby."

"Winona's in Florida—"

"Not the right answer," she said.

"If you let me finish," he said. With a quick glance, he noted the strain at her mouth. "She's in Florida for a reason. We tried, but she and I don't work. I'll be a father to my child. I'll say it again, Rachel. I want you. No one else."

"He's slowing down." She unsnapped her holster.

Raylan eased off the gas. The car pulled onto a gravel road that once led to the old Shaw farm. In less than a mile, the Shaw's road was washed out due to a bad flood and no nearby kin with money and political ties to fix it. Raylan continued to drop speed as he watched the sedan.

"What do you want, Rachel?" he asked quietly.

"You," she said, "but I can't have you fighting my battles. I can do this. You don't know Joe the way I do. Going in guns blazing… It can't end that way."

Raylan braked and set the Lincoln in park. "What are you gonna do with that then?" He pointed at the service revolver at her hip.

"I hope nothing," she said.

And before Raylan could stop her, Rachel exited the car and called out to her soon-t0-be ex-husband.

[A/N: Thanks for reading! A few months ago, I encountered an unexpected medical emergency which brought a halt to my favorite pastime—writing! I am still in healing mode, but things are looking a lot better than they were. I appreciate your patience and your continued interest in this fic. I haven't forgotten about it. As always, your feedback is lovely and appreciated. ]