Warrior's Resolve (Iron Horse Legacy Book 5)

by Elle James

  Warrior’s Resolve

  Iron Horse Legacy Book #5

  Elle James

  Twisted Page Inc

  Contents

  Warrior’s Resolve

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Epilogue

  SEAL JUSTICE

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Elle James

  Warrior’s Resolve

  Iron Horse Legacy Book #5

  New York Times & USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  ELLE JAMES

  Copyright © 2020 by Elle James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Dedicated to my siblings who have helped me through this past year and the loss of both of our parents. Looks like we are now the “older” generation. I love you guys!

  Elle James

  Author’s Note

  Enjoy other books by Elle James

  Iron Horse Legacy

  Soldier’s Duty (#1)

  Ranger’s Baby (#2)

  Marine’s Promise (#3)

  SEAL’s Vow (#4)

  Warrior’s Resolve (#5)

  Visit ellejames.com for more titles and release dates

  For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com

  and join Elle James's Newsletter at

  https://ellejames.com/contact/

  Chapter 1

  “Have the Brotherhood Protectors dug any deeper into the corporation that paid Otis Ferguson to torture Mr. McKinnon?” Parker Bailey walked with Angus, the oldest McKinnon son, to the barn to check on the horses and throw them some hay.

  “Not yet. Some corporations bury ownership so deep, it takes a court subpoena or extremely effective hacking skills to extract the information,” Angus said. “Hank Patterson has Swede working on it. If anyone can hack into that corporation’s database, he can. Problem is, it takes time. We’re not sure how much time my father has. His kidnappers have to be getting desperate by now.”

  Parker frowned. “But they’ll keep him alive if they think he knows where the money is, right?”

  “That’s what we’re banking on,” Angus said. “We know now that they tortured him, and he didn’t reveal the location. His kidnappers will have to do something else to make him give up that data.”

  “Knowing how stubborn Mr. McKinnon can be, the only way they’ll get him to tell is if they threaten something or someone he cares about.” Parker shook his head. “He cares most about his family. You know it’s only a matter of time before they target one of you. Are you ready, should that situation arise?”

  Angus shook his head. “We all know to keep on the lookout for trouble. But we can’t hole up and hide. We have a ranch to run, and we need to keep looking for my father.”

  “At the very least, you need to put your foot down with Molly. She’s not following the buddy rule. You never know who’ll be out there, waiting for an opportunity to snatch one of you and use you to make your father talk.”

  “Why don’t you bring it up at dinner?” Angus said.

  “I think it would be better coming from you. Your siblings look up to and respect you.”

  Angus grinned. “And you don’t want to have to tell Molly she can’t just ride out anytime she feels like it. Alone.”

  Parker’s lips pressed into a tight line. “She doesn’t listen to me. The woman would just as soon spit on me as follow any of my advice.”

  With a chuckle, Angus nodded. “You seem to get sideways with her a lot. Why do you suppose that is?”

  “Beats the heck out of me. I try to stay clear of her. She’s a loose cannon and has a temper that gives her a short fuse.”

  “That’s our Molly. I think my father spoiled her, being the youngest and the only girl.” Angus clapped a hand on Parker’s shoulder. “I would have thought as a former Air Force pararescue PJ, you wouldn’t be afraid of anything.”

  Parker bristled. “I’m not afraid of Molly.”

  “No?” Angus tilted his head. “Hell, I am, most of the time. You’re right. She has a temper. And when she thinks she’s right, she’s like a dog with a bone. She won’t let it go.”

  “That’s the truth.” Parker liked that about her. She didn’t back down one bit. Raised with four older brothers, she’d no doubt grown up having to defend herself against their taunts and teasing.

  Angus reached the barn first and opened the door, holding it for Parker to go in first.

  Once inside, Angus closed the door and looked around. “I’ll get the hay. You can get the water.”

  “Deal,” Parker said and went to the side of the barn with the hose connected to a spigot. He turned on the water and uncoiled the hose to reach across the barn to the farthest stall where Rusty, Molly’s sorrel gelding, resided. Only the gelding wasn’t in his stall.

  Parker swore, hurried to the barn door and looked out into the nearby pasture for Rusty. When he didn’t spot the horse, he ducked into the tack room and swore again.

  Parker’s pulse kicked up a couple notches. “When was the last time you saw Molly?” he asked Angus as he exited the tack room.

  “This morning.” Angus tossed hay into a stall and brushed the loose straw and dust off his hands. “Why?”

  “Her horse is gone.”

  “She was talking about repairing that fence in the southeast pasture. Several strands were cut, and some of the cattle got through.”

  Parker’s pulse ratcheted up, and he swore. “And I specifically told her I’d do it later today. Do you know if she at least took one of your brothers with her?”

  Angus shook his head. “No. If I recall, Colin and Duncan went to town for feed and groceries. Bastian went with Jenna to look at a property.”

  “Which means Molly is out on the ranch by herself. And she’s been out most of the day.” Parker’s chest tightened. “Doesn’t she realize she’s a prime target?”

  Angus’s lips twisted. “She’s always been hardheaded. You can’t tell her anything.”

  “I’ll saddle up and go look for her.”

  “I will, too,” Angus said. “There were a couple of places where the fence needed mending. We can split up and check both.”

  Parker led Franco, his piebald gelding, out of his stall and tied him to a metal loop on a post. Then he hurried to the tack room and grabbed a saddle, blanket and bridle.

  Angus saddled Jack, the black gelding he preferred to ride during his visits home from active duty.

  When they were ready, Angus opened the pasture fence and waited for Parker and Franco to pass through. He led his horse through and closed the gate, mounted and tipped his head to the north. “I’ll take the northwest corner and work my way around to the south along the fence line.”

  “And I’ll start on the southeast corner and work my way around to the north,” Parker said. “Whoever finds her first should fire off a round so the other won’t keep looking.”

  Angus nodded, nudged his horse’s flanks with his heels and galloped across the pasture heading north.

  Parker worried that his boss’s daughter had been out all day long with no backup
. The sun had already sunk low on the horizon. It wouldn’t be long before it dropped below the peaks of the Crazy Mountains.

  Molly should’ve been back at the ranch house by now. The nights were cold. Wolves and bears came out in the evening. Not only could she be a target for the people who’d kidnapped her father, she’d be hunted by the wild animals native to the Montana countryside.

  His grip tightened on the reins as he urged the horse to a gallop and leaned into wind. His need to find her grew with each passing mile. Heart racing, he remembered another time he’d been sent in to rescue a Black Hawk helicopter pilot.

  The mission had gone south fast. Not only did he get injured, he hadn’t been able to rescue the pilot before he’d been shot and killed. The man had had a wife and two small children. Parker had never forgiven himself for being too late to save him.

  His job as a member of the US Air Force’s Pararescue team had been to medically treat and rescue military personnel in combat or humanitarian environments.

  On that last mission, he’d failed, and his injury had caused him to be medically retired from service.

  Thankfully, James McKinnon had seen something in him that Parker had thought he’d lost, and hired him on the spot.

  He’d known Molly for all of the five years he’d worked at the Iron Horse Ranch. When he’d first come, she’d been a thorn in his side, always hanging around, giving him advice on how they did things there. He’d soon learned she was as smart as a whip and one of the best ranchers he’d ever known.

  Her family didn’t give her enough credit for all she did and all she knew about caring for the animals her family owned. So many times, because she was a woman, they didn’t think she was fully capable of ranching.

  While her brothers had all gone off to the military, following in their father’s footsteps, Molly had stayed on Iron Horse Ranch and had learned everything there was to know about ranching, from calving, branding and worming to managing the books. She’d even brought the ranch’s banking and bookkeeping into the twenty-first century by transferring the data from old manual ledgers to computer software. She’d had to drag her father along, kicking and screaming, metaphorically speaking.

  As much as Parker wanted to dislike the boss’s daughter, he had great respect for her abilities. She was the kind of woman he could see himself with—smart, physically strong and beautiful.

  If only she wasn’t the boss’s daughter.

  When Parker had signed on with James McKinnon as his foreman five years ago, Molly had just graduated college with an accounting degree and a minor in animal husbandry. The fresh-faced college grad came home and dove into ranching with a passion. She was beautiful, young and a threat to Parker’s focus. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t get involved.

  To keep his promise to himself, he treated Molly like a pesky kid sister, irritating the fire out of her every chance he got.

  A smile briefly tugged at the corners of his lips as he rode across the pasture toward the southeastern border of the massive Montana ranch, tucked into the foothills of the Crazy Mountains.

  He might be overreacting about the danger Molly could be in, but he’d rather be safe than have her kidnapped to force James McKinnon into telling his abductors anything.

  He urged his horse to go faster.

  Molly McKinnon hammered horseshoe-shaped nails into a wooden fence post, securing the strand of barbed wire she’d just stretched over one hundred feet. It was the last strand. Once she released the pressure from the come-along and packed away her tools, she’d head home.

  She should have been home hours ago, but she’d spent much of her day herding the Iron Horse cattle back inside the confines of the ranch’s fence. Once they were back on the right side, Molly had gone to work stretching the barbed wire that had been cut and patching it where it no longer fit.

  Hot, sweaty and way past hungry, she brushed hair out of her face that had slipped from her ponytail. She straightened, working the kinks out of her back, and glanced at the clear blue Montana sky. The sun was just touching the mountain peaks. It wouldn’t be much longer before the rays dipped below the ridges and sank below the other side.

  Darkness came early to the mountain valleys. She’d need to head back to the ranch house soon or be caught out after dark. Not that she was afraid of the dark. Her concern was more a matter of being respectful of what lurked in the shadows. Wolves and bears moved around at night. She had her rifle in the holster on her saddle, if she needed to defend herself from four-legged animals, as well as the two-legged kind.

  She’d just packed the hammer and bag of nails in her saddlebag and tied the come-along to the back of the saddle. With her foot in the stirrup, about to pull herself up onto her horse Rusty, she heard the roar of engines coming from the nearby woods.

  Rusty’s ears flattened, and he reared, whinnying sharply. Caught with only one foot in the stirrup, Molly fell backward, landing so hard on her back that all the air left her lungs in a whoosh.

  Before she could recover, Rusty turned and raced away…with her rifle.

  Two ATVs leaped out of the tree line and sped straight for her.

  Molly sucked in a breath, shot to her feet and ran. She aimed for a copse of trees, hoping to duck in and hide before the ATV riders reached her.

  Running as fast as she could in her cowboy boots, she could hear the four-wheelers behind her, catching up.

  A glance over her shoulder made her yelp and run faster.

  One of the men slowed, raised his right hand with a gun in it and fired.

  Something stung the back of Molly’s neck. It didn’t feel like a bullet. She reached back and touched something that felt like a dart. She plucked it out of her skin, realizing it was either a poison dart or one laced with a drug to make her…sleepy.

  Molly stumbled, her head getting heavy, her feet hard to lift from the ground.

  The four-wheelers circled her, forcing her to stop running. It seemed like everywhere she turned an ATV blocked her path. The more she spun, the dizzier she became.

  Just when she thought she might fall, a shot rang out from a distance.

  One of the men on the ATVs jerked, his hand leaving the handlebar, his ATV veering out of the tight circle he’d been holding around Molly.

  Molly took that moment to lunge through the gap. She staggered, ran and fell to her knees.

  Another shot rang out.

  The men on the ATVs turned and raced for the woods.

  In the gathering dusk, a horseback rider charged toward Molly.

  She pushed to her feet and ran, fear making her heart pound hard in her chest. Her breathing ragged, she fought to fill her lungs and keep moving, though every step was like walking through a thick mire of mud.

  Molly wanted to lie down on the ground and sleep.

  “Molly!” a familiar voice shouted. “Take my hand.”

  She looked up into a familiar face. “Parker? What are you doing here?” she asked, though her words slurred, and her vision blurred.

  “Take my hand, dammit!” he shouted.

  That’s when she noticed he held out a hand.

  Automatically, she placed hers in his.

  “Put your foot in the stirrup. Hurry!”

  “Why are you yelling at me?” she grumbled, while trying to place the toe of her boot into the empty stirrup, but she couldn’t quite reach it.

  His hand wrapped tightly around hers. “Focus, Molly. They’re coming back. We don’t have time to miss.”

  She narrowed her eyes and concentrated on placing her foot into the stirrup. Once it was there, she was yanked up onto the saddle in front of Parker, landing hard in his lap.

  Finally, she could relax and stop running. Molly melted into his arms and lay her cheek against his shoulder.

  Parker wrapped an arm around her. “Hold onto the saddle horn. It’s going to be a rough ride.”

  With one hand on the horn and the other encircling Parker’s waist, she held on as best her fuzzy mind could a
llow.

  The horse leaped forward and broke into a gallop.

  “Rusty,” she said.

  “Is on his way back to the barn. I passed him on my way here.”

  “Can’t…stay…awake,” Molly said, though her tongue felt like it was swollen and uncooperative.

  “You have to,” Parker urged. “We’re being followed. And they have guns.”

  “I know,” she said. “Shot me…dart.”

  Parker swore and reined the horse toward a line of trees. Hooves pounding in the ground felt like they were pounding into her head and her entire body. She wanted the world to stop and let her just sleep. But no.

  Parker kept up the pace.

  The roar of four-wheeler engines sounded behind them, moving closer.

  When they reached the trees, Parker didn’t slow. Several times he ducked, pushing her head down to avoid a low hanging branch.

  Still, the ATVs drew nearer.

  “Hold on tight,” Parker urged.

  He aimed the horse toward a steep embankment that dropped down sharply into a narrow valley.

  The horse balked, and then stepped over the edge, slipping and sliding downward, loose gravel and dirt cascading down with them.

  Molly clung to Parker as he swayed in the saddle, guiding the horse on a path barely wide enough for the horse’s hooves. Certainly not wide enough for a four-wheeler.

  When they reached the bottom, the horse stretched his legs and raced across a meadow and into the shelter of yet more trees.

  The engine noise faded behind them but continued to follow at a distance.