Master of Solitude (Mountain Masters & Dark Haven Book 8)

by Cherise Sinclair

“Welcome, Morgan. I’m glad you could make it.” Becca Hunt stood beside Logan at the reception desk. Standing in a playpen, Ansel waved his red rubber hammer in greeting. Thor, their big German shepherd, stood in front of the playpen, guarding his toddler. Making it clear than any overly familiar stranger would have his throat ripped out.

  “I didn’t have a choice about coming.” Morgan scratched Thor’s neck and waited for the required tail-wag of approval, before ruffling Ansel’s soft black hair. “Mallory said she’d wallop me if I didn’t show up at five o’clock. Left me terrified.”

  Logan snorted.

  “Women who use nail guns are scary, sure enough.” Bart Holder, the owner of the hardware store, clapped Morgan on the shoulder and made his way into the room.

  Morgan looked around. The main room of the rustic lodge was packed with Bear Flat locals—business owners, stay-at-home moms, retirees. People jammed the sitting areas, leaned on the walls, and stood talking in groups. Aside from Ansel, no children were present.

  “Have you spoken with Simmons recently?” Morgan asked Logan. “Seems he’s saying Sawyer’s corrupting women—including Mallory—and getting them to hang out with criminals and gangbangers.”

  “Corrupting Mallory? I’d like to see the day.” Becca’s eyes narrowed. “If I hear anyone say anything nasty about my girl, I’ll slap them spitless.”

  Well, fuck, Logan’s redhead had quite the temper. Morgan glanced at her husband.

  Despite the anger in his eyes, Logan smiled. “I’ll help, sugar. I don’t know Atticus’s brother, but Mallory wouldn’t be deceived by a liar. After running a construction crew, she’s no starry-eyed teenager, and she reads people even better than Gin.”

  “True. Whether or not they’re a match, I don’t think Sawyer’s a bad man.” With a sigh, Becca leaned against Logan. “She told me his aura is beautiful—a lovely clear red.”

  “The woman is scary sometimes.” Morgan glanced at Logan. “I don’t suppose you’re serving beer.”

  “Mallory didn’t think alcohol was a good idea for this meeting. We have iced tea or water.” Becca winked. “And there might be cookies left.”

  “Now you’re talking. Thanks.” Morgan made his way toward the rear, exchanging greetings as he went. With the exception of two women and a young man, he knew everyone in the room. As he stopped to talk every few feet, he realized he was enjoying himself.

  Maybe he wasn’t as outgoing as his brothers, but he liked people. Gin had told him he was a perfect balance between extrovert and introvert. His lips quirked. Talking with social workers would warp a man’s brain faster than drugs.

  “Morgan, how’s your brother doing?” At the back tables, Mrs. Reed poured him an iced tea and got one for herself.

  Morgan snagged a couple of cookies and handed her one. “He doesn’t have internet or phone service there, so we don’t hear from him often. During his last call, he sounded good, although he’s been taken aback by the poverty. Said kids have starved to death.” Morgan couldn’t imagine losing children from a lack of food. Jesus. “He’s teaching villagers how to handle stock. Land’s poor, although it can support grazing if managed right. He helped dig a well, too.”

  “And he’s feeling better?” Mrs. Reed had known them for years.

  “Yeah. I guess he made the right decision for him.” Living with strangers sure wouldn’t have been Morgan’s choice. When he felt troubled, he headed for the mountains and solitude.

  Mrs. Reed patted his arm. “Although you grew up in each other’s pockets, you aren’t the same. For all his gruff bluster, your brother has a sensitive soul. You, my dear, have a very stable personality.”

  Morgan almost grinned. Be fun to tell Wyatt how sensitive he was.

  “But no matter how well balanced, you’d do better if you were married. It’s past time.” Mrs. Reed nodded. “Vanessa and I will consider who might suit you.”

  Before Morgan could find the polite words for fuck, no, the bookstore owner had rejoined her covey of businesswomen.

  The season might be over, but it was clearly time to schedule some long guide trips. Starting immediately.

  With Kallie and Sunny for company, Mallory waited to one side as the room filled. “A record crowd.”

  “It wasn’t this busy an hour ago,” Sunny said. “Who all did you instruct to show up now?”

  “Basically anyone in charge of anything.” Mallory nodded toward one cluster of people. “Priests and preachers.” Another cluster. “The school board and committee leaders.” One sitting area. “The daycare owners.” A group near the back. “Head of the rancher’s co-op, the biggest ranchers, the chamber of commerce people. And the neighborhood leaders—the bossy ones.”

  Sunny grinned. “There are a lot of those.”

  Many of the younger adults were only here for the party. Some were teachers, some clerical, some beauticians. Spotting Candy, the woman Sawyer had kissed, Mallory flinched and looked away.

  The time with Sawyer was over; she needed to let her hurt and anger go, as well.

  Logan walked to the front of the room, and his gravelly voice rang out. “Thanks for coming. Mallory wanted to say a word or two.”

  As he stalked back to Becca, Kallie snorted. “There’s a nice, long introduction.”

  Jarred out of her somber mood, Mallory laughed and took the designated speaker’s spot. As she looked at the crowd, her smile died. Could she make them see how important this was? Her words strangled in her throat.

  Eddie Nilsson crossed his arms over his chest. “Speak loud, girl.”

  The rancher’s disrespectful tone was the spur she needed. Her spine turned to steel as she said in a voice that carried to the back of the room, “I’m used to yelling orders over the noise of demolition. I run a construction crew, boy.”

  She waited for the ripple of laughter to die. “People, our town has a problem. Gangs moved in when the prison came—and not all left when it closed. They like having uncontested territory and, even better, a police force ill-equipped to handle them.”

  Noise broke out in the room, and she grimly waited for people to settle down.

  “We aren’t a big city. We can’t afford a big city taskforce for gangs. After all, we live in a small town because we love the sense of community. Our size is our strength. Let’s use it.”

  “How? You going to pray over them?” The sarcastic voice came from Eddie again.

  There was always one loudmouth in every crowd. She tilted her head toward the church delegation. “I’ll leave prayers to our churches. What I have in mind is an extreme version of a neighborhood watch.”

  Silence.

  “In a neighborhood watch, residents patrol an area and call the police if there are problems. In cities, the watches have proven effective. I do think we should institute our own neighborhood watches—and include the downtown area. However, let’s consider going one step further.”

  Her one step further was why she hadn’t invited law enforcement to the meeting, although Sunny and Gin would inform their husbands. But absent cops couldn’t take “official” notice of what might skirt the edge of the law.

  She pulled in a breath. “I propose we also watch the Aryan Hammers. Watch their house. Watch them when they leave. Trail them wherever they go.”

  The noise rose as people started talking. Arguing.

  “Are you going to assign people to watch over your lover, Sawyer Ware, too?” Roger Simmons’s voice was loud.

  “Oh, Roger, if you want to sit in front of his house and watch him, you go right ahead.”

  When a few people snickered, Roger scowled.

  Mallory continued, keeping her voice strong. “The decrease in tourists has affected the Aryan Hammers’ income. So now they’re recruiting—and dealing—at our school.”

  The news definitely got a reaction. When someone questioned the statement, the PTA president said loudly, “Mallory is correct.”

  The church leaders’ appalled expressions matched those of the
ranchers.

  Onward. “If we’re visibly present wherever the gang goes, they can’t make sales. Can’t break into houses or businesses. We can learn which children are being recruited and step in. We will shine a spotlight on everything they do.”

  The local auctioneer grinned. “I have a bullhorn. If you want your assigned observer to announce a drug buy to the world, y’all are welcome to use it.” He made a megaphone of his hands and yelled, “Drug buy between little Joe Smith and a gangster puke going on now. Come and see.”

  The room filled with laughter.

  Considering expressions followed.

  “I like the plan, Mal.” Even without a bullhorn, the auctioneer’s voice carried as he shouted, “Who’s in?”

  The roar of agreement filled the room.

  Trying to keep from crowing in delight, Mallory folded her arms over her chest. “When you leave here, please tell every local you know about our plans. We’ll get a schedule coordinator appointed and set up a watch list. Bear in mind, we’re not trying to be sneaky. We’re openly watching and following. We’ll make it impossible for them to commit any crimes…and we’ll drive away their customers.”

  With the PTA president beside him, the head of the school board planted his feet. “We’ll call a meeting of the parents immediately.”

  Mrs. Reed stood. “The businesses are in. In fact, Vanessa and I volunteer to manage the schedule.”

  “You’re on. Thank you.” Mallory breathed a sigh of relief. Mrs. Reed had been the CEO of an international company before pursuing her dream of owning a bookstore. She could totally handle the volunteers.

  When a stampede of agreement followed, Mallory waved Mrs. Reed and Vanessa forward and let them take over.

  Success.

  Mallory headed for the drink table. By the sun and stars, her throat felt as if she’d swallowed a mound of sand. Spotting Sunny, Kallie, Gin, and Becca at the dessert table, Mallory pantomimed drinking to let them know where she was headed.

  “Well, if it isn’t the carpenter girl.” The ugly tone made the term an insult.

  Startled, Mallory turned.

  Three beauticians had approached, and it was easy to see which one had spoken. Candy’s dark brown aura was so filled with negativity and selfishness, the sneer on her face was redundant.

  Mallory picked up a glass of tea and started to move away.

  The blonde blocked her path. “It was hilarious when Simmons gave you grief about Sawyer. Why didn’t you just tell him Sawyer kicked you to the curb?”

  No. Don’t start a fight. Besides, she had been kicked to the curb, hadn’t she? Mallory lifted her eyebrows and waited for the ill-mannered woman to say something worth listening to.

  At Mallory’s silent response, Candy flushed, glared, and walked away.

  Her friends hurried after her. One said something about a bitch, and Candy laughed loudly.

  “Talk about rude.” Becca stepped up beside Mallory. Frowning after Candy, she crossed her arms over her chest.

  Looking back, the three beauticians caught the full force of Becca’s annoyed stare. One turned red, then paled.

  Becca growled under her breath. “I think it’s time to get my hair and nails done in Groveland from now on.”

  Mallory shook her head. “Don’t get carried away. They’re just young and—”

  Hannah interrupted. “Actually, I’d say they’re your age.” Boston born and bred, the owner of Hannah’s Hair was in her forties. Her short brown hair was perfectly razor cut, and her nails matched her cobalt blue suit.

  Mallory sighed. The problem with crowds was there was always someone to overhear. “Hannah, if you want to instruct your beauticians about the ramifications of obnoxious behavior on their future income, it’s your prerogative. But for me, I’ve already let this incident go. Becca will also.” She gave Becca a nudge.

  After a stubborn second, Becca caved. “I suppose. I do love your salon, Hannah. Can you recommend a different beautician though? Someone not a lackey of Candy’s?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll change your appointments to Sadie.” Hannah smiled. “I think you’ll like her. She’s from San Francisco, is very current—and she’s truly a lovely person.”

  Becca brightened. “Excellent.”

  “Thank you. And thank you, Mallory, for your compassion.” Like Aslan spotting an unwary rodent, the salon owner stalked in a direct line toward her beauticians.

  Kallie appeared beside Mallory, her black eyes snapping with anger. “I’m going to knock that woman into next week.”

  “No, honey, you can’t start a fight here.” After patting Kallie’s arm, Gin handed Mallory a cookie. “Sweetie Pie, you deserve a reward. I loved the way you took the wind out of Roger’s sails.”

  Next to her, Sunny giggled. “You realize Roger picked on you only because if he picked on Sawyer, he’d get flattened.” Moving Kallie aside, Sunny put her arm around Mallory.

  The image of Roger Simmons trying to face down Sawyer was almost amusing.

  Kallie scowled at Gin. “Sawyer can have Roger—and vice versa. I totally should be allowed to flatten Candy.”

  “No.” Gin’s brows drew together as she turned back to Mallory. “I’m having trouble believing what Kallie told me—that Sawyer went from you to making out with Candy. On Main Street. At our barbecue, that man was into you, Mal. Completely.”

  The memory of him kissing Candy still hurt. “I—”

  “You’re the most stable person I know, so you didn’t change. And he saw you very clearly.” Gin held up her hand, forestalling interruptions as she worked through her reasoning. “When young, Sawyer went through women like I go through potato chips.”

  “Whoa, that’s a scary thought,” Becca muttered.

  “However, Atticus told me Sawyer lost interest in shallow women, years and years ago.” Gin pursed her lips. “Now I do hate to say it, but that Candy is shallower than a muddy puddle, bless her heart.”

  Sunny gave Mallory a squeeze. “I agree. In the clinic, Sawyer was way protective of you. And he was a gentleman. Breaking up or not, is such spiteful behavior like him?”

  “No. Actually, it’s not like him at all.” He’d never been mean. “But why would he go out of his way to hurt me?”

  Becca’s laugh was unexpected. “Do you remember when I came over, pouting about some rudeness of Logan’s? After you fed me cookies and tea and tons of sympathy, you finished it all off with, ‘Unless you talk with him and ask, you’ll never know why he acted that way.’”

  As the others grinned, Kallie murmured, “She’s used the talk to him line on me, too.”

  Becca examined her nails, then gave Mallory an evil smile. “So, girlfriend, right back at’cha. Unless you talk with him and ask, you’ll never know why he acted that way.”

  Well, honestly. Mallory scowled. “Although I believe in recycling, you’ve gone too far. Good advice shouldn’t be returned like you would a…a soda bottle.”

  Her friends broke into laughter.

  As the others talked about the neighborhood watch, Mallory nibbled on a cookie and considered. Talk to Sawyer. Oh, boy.

  Still, the damn vigilante needed to be warned about the Town Watch. And while she was there, she’d talk to him. Really talk.

  Only…she so, so didn’t want to hear again how she wasn’t exciting enough for him.

  *

  The afternoon clouds had blown off, leaving a clear twilight sky. The tang of frost was in the air.

  Overheated, Sawyer tossed his shirt to one side. Picking up the maul again, he swung. With a satisfying crack, two pieces of firewood flew apart.

  Splitting wood had been his mother’s sovereign remedy for teenage troubles. Fumbled the football? Go split some wood. Got a penalty in calf roping? Go split some wood. Fought with the girlfriend? Go split some wood.

  As a kid, he’d spent hours working off his anger on the woodpile. Later, in the Navy, morning PT had served as an adequate substitute but, he had to admit, a mounting
pile of wood added extra gratification.

  Over the past few days, his firewood piles had grown to towering heights.

  A whuff of warning came from Achilles, who was tied up at a safe distance from the flying wood.

  “What?” Sawyer looked around and stiffened at the sight of Mallory’s pickup.

  The calming effects of splitting wood vanished, and an ache filled his chest. Again. Dammit, he missed her. For two weeks, they’d spent every free minute together, and rather than growing bored, he’d fallen more and more in love.

  It was a wonder he’d managed to mask his emotions enough that she’d fallen for his performance with the blonde bimbo.

  Achilles whuffed again, and Sawyer stared as the pickup pulled up to his house.

  What the fuck? After his behavior on Main Street, no ex-girlfriend should speak to him again—especially one as strong as Mallory.

  She walked over, carrying a piece of paper. “Hey.” Her gaze took in the healing bullet graze on his arm.

  “Mallory.” After sinking his maul into the stump, he freed Achilles and watched the pup greet her with frantic circles and whines.

  Smiling at the puppy, she knelt to dispense pats and scratches.

  She hadn’t smiled at Sawyer.

  Before, every time they met, she would give him that smile, the one he’d noticed was all his. A soft glimmer would start in her wide eyes, like sunlight on a forest lake, then a dimple would show, just at the corner of her mouth, before her beautiful smile would appear.

  Today, her smile at Achilles’s antics hadn’t reached her eyes.

  The black cloud settled more firmly on his shoulders. He’d made her unhappy. And if she didn’t leave quickly, he was liable to lose his resolve and beg her forgiveness.

  “What can I help you with, Mallory?” His voice came out brusque. With luck, she’d figure he was impatient.

  “I’m sorry for interrupting your evening,” she said softly. “At the End of Season party today, Bear Flat decided to start a town watch to deal with the increase in crime. I wanted you to know.”

  He nodded. A town watch? He’d have to be extra careful, for damn sure.

  She continued. “Also… Along with the neighborhood and downtown patrols, we’ll be openly observing the Aryan Hammers. We plan to follow them wherever they go and spotlight their activities.”