“She and her family are longtime residents. They own a ranch several miles outside of town and a house a couple of blocks from here. I spoke with her when we first arrived—thought she might recognize the drawing. Well, guess I’d better to speak with the woman.” Roy started to rise again.
“I’ll speak with her,” Connor strode to the kitchen before Roy could respond. He spotted Jasper at a large work table. “Where’s Grace?”
“I already told you…” Jasper began before Connor cut him off.
“Where is she?”
“I’m right here. What do you need?” Grace walked from behind a corner, still trying to do something with her wet, unruly hair. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw who had asked about her.
“We need to talk,” Connor said.
“And what would we need to talk about, Mr…?”
“You can call me Connor.”
“All right, Connor. What do we need to talk about?”
“It’s private.”
She pursed her lips trying to decide if she wanted to be alone with this man. “Maybe after I’m finished…”
“Now, Grace. We have to speak now.” Connor turned to Jasper. “Do you have an office or someplace private?”
“Storage room’s about the only place.”
Connor turned back to Grace. “You lead the way.”
Chapter Eight
Auburn Prison, New York
“Your belongings,” the guard told the prisoner who stood before him. Other guards were doing the same with two other prisoners. Ex-prisoners as of fifteen minutes earlier. The three had changed into their own clothes and been walked to another room to collect their personal gear before a last stop at the exit room.
“My gun?” Len Proctor asked as he shoved some loose coins into a pocket. A tobacco pouch followed.
“Don’t have any guns. You’ll have to figure out how to get it back once you leave here.”
“Horses?”
“Same. There’s a wagon that’ll take you to town. From there you’re on your own.” The guard walked the few feet to anther door and unlocked it. “Through here.”
Len walked into another small room and waited. Earl Swain and Bert Newell joined him a few minutes later, followed by another guard with another set of keys. He opened one last door and threw it open. “Out there boys. Hope we never see any of you again,” the guard said and stood aside.
It didn’t take long to reach their destination. It was a gray, bleary day. Rain came down in soft waves, not hard, but enough to soak through their clothes if outside long enough. They only had what was on their backs. At least each owned a coat to curb the chill.
Len climbed from the wagon and looked around for the person who was to meet them. It didn’t take long. A tall, lean man, with a thin face, and blank expression stood under the shelter of an overhang about fifteen feet away. His posture, hat, and thick, wool rain coat indicated he was a man of wealth.
Roscoe Vance had pulled the strings that got the three released and exonerated of the murder charges brought against them by Alex McCann and Connor MacLaren. Now he’d provide them with what they needed to hunt down the two men and eliminate them. After that they’d be free to pursue the gold they’d gone after several years before. Gold they’d killed for, gold they should have been spending instead of wasting away in Auburn. McCann and MacLaren would pay for those squandered years.
The three men walked toward Vance. It was Len who spoke. “Glad to see you. I assume you have what we need.”
“Horses, train tickets, gear, guns, and money are ready. You’ll stay here tonight and travel to New York City in the morning.” Vance handed Proctor keys. “For your rooms tonight.” He then passed over a thick envelope.
Len tore it open to find a hand written note and money.
“That’s McCann’s office and home. A man named Lee Hatcher works for him. Appears he’s acting as a body guard. Handle it any way you want, just don’t fail on this.” Vance’s tone was hard, unbending.
“What about MacLaren?”
Vance handed Len a second envelope. “This is where MacLaren is staying in Salt Lake. Again, take care of him however you want.”
“And the gold?” Len asked.
“Bring me MacLaren’s gun and you’ll get the rest of the information.” Vance buttoned his top coat. “Don’t contact me until both jobs are finished. Do you understand?”
“Yes. Just be sure you have the information on the gold when we return. I expect it won’t take long to kill off McCann and MacLaren. There’s three of us. They won’t last the month.”
Len’s bravado was lost on Roscoe Vance. He knew the outlaws for what they were—lowlife murderers, nothing more. He just hoped they’d kill the two men who’d cost him his business and marriage years ago. At least he hadn’t gone to prison like the three men standing in front of him. He’d had enough money to ensure that, but now he wanted payback, and these men were going to give it to him.
******
Salt Lake City
Connor pushed Grace into the small storage room and closed the door behind him. “Now, I want some straight answers.”
“Answers to what?”
“Why were you following Ezra Thomas today and meeting with Ruth Dix?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. And if I did, I certainly owe you no explanation for what I do. Now, I want out of here.” Grace’s eyes had grown wide and color crept up her neck at Connor’s questions.
“Not until you tell me your connection to Ezra and Mrs. Dix.” He kept his voice low, measured.
“It’s none of your business.” Her eyes narrowed to slits as the words came out. Who was this man to question her?
“Not good enough.” Connor was losing patience, not just with Grace but with his close proximity to her in the tiny storage room. His body tightened and it was all he could do to stop himself from running his fingers along her cheek and down her long, slender neck. He needed to get the information, then get out of this room, and away from Grace.
They glared at each other, neither budging.
Grace finally broke the silence. “What do you care what I did or who I met with?”
Connor scrubbed a hand over his stubbled face, then rested his hands on his hips. “Look, I just need to know why you were following Ezra.”
“If I tell you will you let me out of here?”
“It depends on the answers.”
She let out an exasperated breath. “Fine. I was looking for a friend, not following Mr. Thomas. I recognized him, but didn’t want him to see me. That’s all. I don’t know why he rode out that way.”
“And Ruth Dix?”
“She comes in here sometimes. Ruth lets me use one of her horses.”
“Is the friend a man?”
“No. She’s a wife of a Mormon man. No one of consequence.”
“You rode a long way. Did you see her?”
“Yes, I saw her but she didn’t see me. Her husband would never allow it, he doesn’t approve of me. I just wanted to be sure she was safe.” Grace’s voice had softened, turning wistful.
“And is she?” Connor moved a little closer, his voice low. He was almost brushing up against Grace. He could smell the soap from her still damp hair.
Grace looked up, startled to see how close he’d gotten. “Yes. She seems all right.” Her whispered response drew Connor even closer. He lifted a finger and moved an errant strand of hair behind her ear.
“And you weren’t following Ezra Thomas?” Connor’s voice had grown thick, husky.
“Uh, no.” Grace couldn’t keep from staring into his moss green eyes. They held her captive as the man held her captive in this small space.
“I see,” Connor said as his head bent in slow increments to brush his lips across hers. It was just a caress, just a touch.
Grace had watched as he’d moved closer but did nothing to stop him. His lips were dry, soft. She’d never felt anything as sweet.
Con
nor lifted his head and stepped back. Taking a deep breath he leaned against the only wall not covered in shelves and crossed his arms. “All right, Grace. You can leave now.”
Grace stared up at him. As before, his black wavy hair fell over his forehead—it would be so easy to reach up and brush the heavy strands back. Her heart pounded and her face felt flushed, yet she stood rooted in place.
“Grace? Did you hear me?”
“Uh, yes.” She turned to leave then stopped. “Why did you do that?” she asked over her shoulder.
“Kiss you?”
“Yes.”
“I surely don’t know, but it won’t happen again,” Connor answered and hoped it wasn’t a lie.
“Good. I didn’t like it,” Grace responded then dashed out the door.
Connor’s soft chuckle followed her into the kitchen.
******
Connor told Fred and Roy what Grace had said before he left for his hotel. But his night was fitful. He’d woken several times and lay awake for hours. Between the encounter with Grace, their brief sweet kiss, and the story she told, he couldn’t get his mind to rest.
He was a suspicious man by nature. His gut told him there was more to what Grace had told him but he needed to gain her trust before she’d open up to him further.
Why would someone ride so far out and not meet with the person they’d gone to see? Why not ride back to town with Thomas rather than alone, especially with a storm unfolding? And what was her connection to Ruth, a woman with a long legacy in Salt Lake and no other connection to Grace other than the fact that she frequented the small restaurant?
He’d been out all the following day, watching the jeweler, Calvin Wallace, and making plans for the arrival of Proctor and his comrades. Frustration ate at him. Not about the murderers who would be stalking him. No, his frustration was knowing that several people in this town knew the man in the drawing but refused to provide a name. He felt like throwing something across the room.
Instead, he threw his hat on the bed, unstrapped his gun belt, and dropped into a chair. His room was large and elegant. Something Louis Dunnigan would request, with all the features you’d expect from the best hotel in Salt Lake. As far as he knew, Fred and Roy had similar rooms. Dunnigan always went first class, even for his help.
Connor thought back on what they’d learned so far. Roy had more success than either Fred or Connor. Neither Parley Smith nor Calvin Wallace had gone anywhere the past two days. Almost as if they knew they were being watched.
He’d start again tomorrow. But there was something about Grace’s trip to visit a friend on the same day that Ezra rode the same direction that bothered Connor. He didn’t believe in coincidences. They needed to discover where Ezra went and pay that person a call.
A soft knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. He opened it to see a tray loaded with the supper he’d order. His eyes traveled up and held on the beautiful woman holding the tray.
“Your supper, Mr. MacLaren.”
Connor indicated she should bring the tray into his room and set it on the table near the window. He watched her move. Her long black hair was braided, then twisted to form a knot at the back of her head. Her eyes were golden, the color of honey. Although her dress was modest, in the style of a high-end hotel employee, it still clung to her curves.
She set the tray down and turned toward him. “Anything else, Mr. MacLaren?”
He looked at her a moment before shaking his head. She left, closing the door quietly behind her. Connor sat on the bed, staring at the food a few feet away. He walked to the window and looked out. The restaurant was only a few blocks away, but Grace was probably already gone. He wish he knew what it was about her that intrigued him.
She was pretty but not stunningly beautiful like some of the women he’d known. She was proud but not haughty, and he liked the way he could make her blush at the most innocent comments. He’d never met a woman whose mere presence sent heat coursing through his body. Connor was a controlled man by nature, not accustomed to the lack of restraint that gripped him whenever she was around.
He needed to shake her out of his thoughts. Get whatever information he could from her, find Meggie, and leave town. He’d decided years ago there was no place in his life for anything more than a short-term affair. Connor had simply never been drawn in that direction. Unlike his cousins who relished their lives as married men, he didn’t need or want that kind of intimacy. Physical intimacy, yes. Emotional intimacy, never.
Connor ate the food. It was excellent but didn’t satisfy his cravings. He pushed it away and walked to the wall hook that held his gun belt. Withdrawing one of his two pistols, he sat on the bed and examined it. He stepped to the wardrobe and grabbed a black leather case. Within minutes Connor had the contents emptied and was busy cleaning his weapons. Finally, near midnight, he finished his work, and stashed the kit.
Connor fell back onto the bed and slipped into another fitful night.
******
New York City
“You’re sure this is the place?” Earl Swain looked up the street, then down before his eyes settled on the gated structure across the street. It had taken them hours to shake the men who followed them.
“This is the address Vance gave us for McCann’s home. Fancy, huh?” Vance had walked around the corner where the house was located. It wasn’t opulent by New York standards but compared to the homes the three killers had seen it was a mansion.
“What’s your plan,” Bert Newell asked Len.
“For tonight, to watch and see who comes and goes, just like we did yesterday at his office. We need to decide which will be the easiest way to get to him, and his body guard. What are your thoughts, Earl?”
“It’s secure but I can get to it.” The home was three stories, narrow, with a stone wall and iron gates. It was typical of the upper class townhomes popular in this area of the city.
“Easier than the office?” Len persisted.
“Depends on the number of people coming and going, and their schedule. Do we know if McCann has guards around his family?”
“We’ll find out tonight.”
Vance had done a good job setting them up. The three men made their way upstairs to an empty apartment in the building across the street. They settled in and began their vigil, hoping to learn what they needed by midnight. It was mid-morning. Alex McCann had left for his office a few hours earlier, just after the men had arrived. His body guard had been with him.
An hour later Earl nudged Len. “Look.” He pointed across the street where a woman and two children, a boy and girl, left the house and stepped into a waiting carriage.
“Did you see anyone else? Any body guards?” Bert had moved behind his comrades.
“No, just their driver, wife, and children.” Len stood and stretched. “We need to find out how many are inside. Let’s set up a delivery.”
They’d used this ploy many times in the past when their work had been comprised of being ordinary thieves and not the killers they’d become.
“Bert, you set it up and Earl will make the delivery. You and I will be watching while he enters. Make it a big package that requires he walk into the home and set the object down. We don’t want him handing it off to someone else.” Len thought a moment. “See if it can be delivered later today.”
“Sure, boss.” He grabbed his hat and left.
“From what I’ve seen so far, if there are few people inside, this will be the better location to hit McCann. Might get his family in the cross-fire though.” Earl had no interest in hurting women or children, but knew Len didn’t feel the same. He was ruthless. As long as there was money at the end, he didn’t care who he had to kill.
“For now, prepare to take them from here. Provide me the details and I’ll get what you need. No witnesses, Earl.” Len eyes narrowed on his partner. “I don’t want the same mess we went through before.”
Earl knew what Len referred to, and agreed that it couldn’t be repeated. He�
��d over-calculated the amount of dynamite needed to blow through a rock wall that connected with an abandoned room on the other side. Except it hadn’t been abandoned or empty. Two women had died. They’d never been charged with the murders even though several other women had seen them. The witnesses were too rattled by the explosion and death of their friends. Although they hadn’t gone to jail, the images had haunted Earl ever since.
“What about the children, Len? I don’t hold with hurting them.”
Len watched Earl. He knew his skills and limitations. That’s why Bert had been with them from the start. Bert took care of the details that Earl couldn’t. “Don’t worry, Earl. I’ll make sure you don’t have to worry about the children.”
Chapter Nine
Salt Lake City
It had been a long train ride and Jericho was tired. He knew where Connor and the others were staying, and was glad that McCann had seen to his accommodations as well. He looked up at the two story structure then walked inside. It was early, he hadn’t expected to see Connor but there he was, sitting in the hotel restaurant, drinking a cup of coffee.
Jericho walked up to the table and threw his saddlebags down on an empty chair.
Connor looked at the tall, imposing figure. “Have a seat, Mr. Jericho.” Connor signaled the server for another cup of coffee and menu. “What took you so long?”
MacLaren’s features stayed neutral but Jericho could see the humor in his eyes. “It was a long, tedious trip, laddie. All the way out here just to protect your sorry arse, which we both know doesn’t need to be protected.” Jericho thanked the server when she set down his hot brew. “Have you seen them?”
“No. What are your thoughts?”
“I think they’ll go after McCann first, then come here.”
“Is Alex safe?”
“He’s got Hatcher with him. Lee will guard Alex with is life, as we would. But those three are slime. There’s just no telling what they’ll do now that they’re free to seek revenge.” Jericho sipped at his coffee and ordered breakfast when the server returned. “Alex is sending the family out of town as well as keeping just a few people at the office. He’s preparing as best he can.”
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