“Tell me where MacLaren is or you’ll wish you had,” he heard Proctor yell.
Connor took a tentative step toward the porch, then another before he could see through the open door and into the room where Proctor stood, his arm stretched in front of him, a gun in his hand.
“I’m telling you, I don’t know any MacLaren,” Jericho threw back.
“Proctor.” Connor’s cold, commanding voice pierced the night. He stood eight feet away, his Colt aimed at Len’s heart. “Drop it, now.”
Len swung his gun toward Connor but never uttered a sound before a bullet blew through his chest, a second through his skull.
Connor dashed through the door, spotted Jericho’s bleeding shoulder and wrist, and started toward him.
“Grace is in the back bedroom. Go check on her,” Jericho ground out as he pushed himself up and walked over to check on Proctor.
Connor hurried down the hall, shoved open the bedroom door, and came face-to-face with the gun he’d given Grace. “Whoa, honey,” he said in a low, calm voice as he slowly holstered his Colt and walked toward her. “It’s over. All three are dead.”
Grace’s eyes were wide, her two-handed grip shaky, but she didn’t lower the gun.
“Grace. It’s me, Connor. Put the gun down, sweetheart. It’s all right.” He continued to walk forward, arms at his sides, palms out.
“Connor?” she whispered, her voice as shaky as the gun she held.
He watched as she lowered the gun a few inches, then reached out a hand, and took it from her loosened grip. “It’s over, Grace. They’re all dead.” He wrapped his arms around her, holding tight, then stroking her hair. He pulled back to look at her. “You all right now?”
She looked up him. “Yes, I’m fine. I’ve never been around anything like that.” She took a step back.
“You did real good. I’ve no doubt that if one of those men had made it past Jericho they would have been looking square into the barrel of your gun, just like I did.” He reached out and grabbed her hand. “Come on. Let’s check on Mr. Jericho.”
Grace walked with him into the front room to see Jericho using his one good arm to drag a body outside and down the porch steps. She looked around at the mess, not dropping her hand from Connor’s. She’d never been near a gunfight, seen blood like this, or a dead body. It made her stomach roll but she was determined to keep herself together. The last thing she wanted was for Connor to see her as weak.
“I guess I’d better get started cleaning this up before Ruth gets back.” She turned toward the kitchen but Connor pulled her hand, drawing her to him, and lowered his head to capture her lips. Her hands moved up his arms and around his neck. She held tight, savoring the taste and feel of him.
“Uh, I could use your help out here.” Jericho’s voice broke the moment.
Grace’s arms dropped and she jumped back a step before walking to the kitchen.
Connor watched her walk away before turning to Jericho. “Your timing is, as always, perfect.”
“Come on,” Jericho chuckled. “Let’s get these bodies loaded and to the sheriff. Then you can tell me what you found out about Meggie.”
******
“You’ve been in town less than a month, MacLaren, and already the number of dead men exceeds what is seen over six times that long.” The sheriff had accepted their accounts of the deaths at Ruth Dix’s home. He was aware of Proctor, Swain, and Newell and their quest for vengeance against MacLaren. Fred and Roy had told him of the attempt on Alex McCann’s life, and although there had been no confirmed proof they were the men who’d blown up the carriage, everything pointed toward them. “Do you think there’s any chance you can get done with the rest of your business and leave before anyone else turns up dead?”
“I have no regrets on any of the deaths, Sheriff. You know as well as I, each one was a justified kill.” Connor was at peace with each shooting. He never second guessed himself when it came to dispatching a man who held a gun to another. “The odds are pretty good that I’ll find my sister within a few days and be out of your hair.”
“Not that we don’t welcome newcomers, but in your case, the sooner you leave the better for all.”
Jericho and Connor walked outside onto a quiet, dark street. It was close to midnight.
“Drink?” Jericho asked.
“Yeah.”
The two walked to the closest saloon, taking a table in the corner, and ordered a couple of whiskeys.
“You going to tell me about you and Grace?” Jericho sipped his drink and stared at his friend. He’d watched the two together and guessed something was going on. Until now, he hadn’t said anything. Connor was in his teens when Jericho had first met him. In all that time he’d never known him to be serious over any woman. He had his share, his pick as most would say, but all were short term without meaning. This one had all the signs of being more.
“Nothing to tell.” Connor held his glass up to the dim light and rolled the amber liquid around in the short glass before tossing it back. He let the warmth trickle down his throat, then signaled the bartender for another.
“That’s not the way I see it.”
Connor debated about sharing his feelings. Truth was, he didn’t know for certain how he felt. Grace stirred emotions that he’d never felt before for any woman. She got under his skin in a way that made him anxious and wary. He felt a protectiveness toward her that he’d felt for no one else except his sister, Meggie, and their brother, Pierce.
“I like her,” Connor said before downing his second whiskey.
“You bedded her yet?”
“Hell, no.”
“You plan to?”
“That’s none of your damned business.” Connor slammed his glass on the table and stood.
“Got to take that for a yes, laddie,” Jericho replied and stood to walk outside. “I’m heading to the hotel, unless you need me back at the Dix place.”
“No, you go ahead. I’ll pick up Grace and take her home. Not sure she’ll want to stay at Ruth’s place after what happened.”
Connor was right. Grace wanted nothing more than to return to her small room. She planned to return the next day to make sure nothing had been missed when cleaning up, but other than that, Grace wouldn’t go back until the next time Ruth was in town.
Connor followed her up the narrow steps to her place, carrying her small bag, and set it down on the floor inside.
“You going to be okay here tonight?”
She slipped off her coat and hung it on a nearby hook. Grace wanted to be alone but didn’t want him to leave. Her heart told her to walk up to him, lace her arms around his neck, and ask him to stay. She shouldn’t. She was still married and it would be wrong, even if her marriage was a mockery. She planned to obtain a divorce, which was simple to do in Utah. The laws were lenient and divorce common with people coming from other states to take advantage of the quick dissolution procedures. She simply hadn’t had time to do it with work and planning how she was going to free Meggie.
Grace walked to a window and stared at the dark sky, deciding what to do. She needed to tell him about Moser but the words wouldn’t form. Say something tonight, or let him leave—she was conflicted. She continued to look out when she sensed him walk up behind her, felt his strong arms wrap around her waist, and draw her flush against his chest.
He pulled loose strands of hair away from her neck, bending to place kisses up to the tender spot behind her ear. “Ask me to stay,” he whispered before tugging a sensitive earlobe with his lips. She sagged against him, letting her head fall back against his chest and giving him access to the soft column of her neck.
Connor moved a hand around to splay over her stomach as the second held her tight against him. He continued kissing her soft skin as he unbuttoned the front of her dress and pushed it from her shoulders. He let it fall to her waist leaving her in only a thin chemise.
Grace’s body trembled at his touch. She could feel her body warm, heat coursing through he
r limbs. She inhaled his unique scent as his lips moved down her neck to her shoulders.
She moaned and he turned her to face him, kissing her, and outlining her lips with his tongue until she opened for him. Her hands sifted through his dark, silky hair, pulling him down, holding him in place.
Grace was on fire. She’d never felt sensations like this before, waves of heat moving up and down her body, and settling between her legs. She squirmed against him, pulling Connor tighter, trying to get closer, the friction of his clothes through her sheer chemise sending shudders through her body. She wound her hands in his hair, angling her mouth one way then another over his, matching each thrust of his tongue with hers.
He untied her chemise, pushing it and her dress to the floor, leaving her wearing only her thin drawers. He gazed down at her. “You are so damn beautiful, Grace.” His voice was husky as he stared at her creamy skin and soft curves.
Connor picked her up and walked to the bed, settling her on his lap. He buried his face in her graceful neck, nipping, and kissing his way down. She bucked against him, arching up, and holding his head in place.
One of his hands rested on her thigh, kneading, and moving upward toward the ties at her waist.
“Grace,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop, or that you want me to stay. I need to hear it from you.” He lifted his gaze to hers, waiting for an answer.
“Stay, Connor. Make love to me.” Grace pulled him back down to her knowing her decision was both wrong and right.
Chapter Eighteen
The night passed and Connor stayed, something he’d never done with any woman. They made love twice more before the sun cast its light through the slits in Grace’s curtains. He held her close, not wanting to let go or leave, but knowing he had to search for his sister. It couldn’t wait another day.
Connor turned Grace to face him, watching her slowly wake and cast her sleep filled gaze up at him. “I need to go,” he leaned down to kiss her. She snaked a hand behind his head and held him, then let her grip slip away.
“Your sister?” she asked, her voice husky from sleep and their night of love.
“Yes. We found where she lived and know she ran away as the storm hit a few days ago. No one has seen her since. I must find her before her husband does.”
“She’s married?” Grace sat up in bed. He’d never mentioned that his sister might be married.
“Looks that way. We talked to the man’s other wives and they confirmed Meggie lived there.”
“Meggie?” Grace jumped out of bed at the mention of her friend’s name. “Meggie is your sister?”
“You know her?” Connor was stunned.
“Did you speak with a woman named Ada, and one named Nina?”
“Yes, both were at the Moser farm.” He gripped Grace’s shoulders and pulled her to within six inches of him. “Tell me what you know of my sister.”
She stared up at him. Grace couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that the woman Connor had been searching for was her close friend. “Meggie is a good friend—a very good one.” Her voice had grown soft as she thought of Meggie, running away, alone.
She pulled away from him and grabbed her clothes. “We have to leave. Now. We must find her before Moser does.” Her voice was urgent.
Connor watched her, his body shaking at the knowledge that the woman he’d fallen for, made love to all night, knew his sister. Meggie was the reason he’d come to Salt Lake. Grace had been a distraction, up until last night. Now she might hold the key to finding his sister. He pulled on his clothes, buttoned his shirt, and grabbed his gun belt.
“Do you have any idea where she’d go?” Connor asked as Grace slipped into her coat.
“Not for sure, but I believe she’d head for Salt Lake, not north. She’d have to find money and a way to get out of this area before her husband finds her. If it was during the storm, she may have taken shelter with a neighbor on the way to town. We’ll just have to search.”
Within an hour they’d found Jericho, Roy, and Fred and began their search. Grace rode one of Ruth’s horses. She wasn’t as proficient as Connor but they kept a moderate pace, letting her gain confidence until she sat easily in the saddle.
Connor kept watch on Grace as they rode. There was so much he wanted to know about her. He was convinced she hadn’t told him the complete truth about herself and her life in Salt Lake—too much didn’t add up. This was all new to him, these feelings and his desire to be around her, reach out and touch her. He didn’t know the rules, what was expected in a normal relationship. But he did know that he needed her to be honest, as he intended to be with her.
About a mile north of Salt Lake, they began to see farm houses on either side of Old Pioneer Road. Roy and Fred took the farms to one side while Connor, Grace, and Jericho talked to the owners on the other. An hour passed, then two, without anyone acknowledging they’d seen Meggie. Several mentioned speaking with Jeremiah Moser several days before, but the man hadn’t been back since.
It was coming up on midday. The riders were about a mile from the turnoff to the Moser farm and Homer Erickson’s shack. Connor pulled up.
“I want to speak with Homer again, find out if he’s seen anything.”
“You know Mr. Erickson?” Grace asked.
“Met him on our search. Nice enough guy. Not sure how much he cares for his neighbor, Moser, but he was decent enough to us. You know him?”
“No, I know he’s lives alone, but never got to meet him.”
As they spoke Jericho noticed a farm house several yards off the road, hidden somewhat from the road. A man stopped a wagon to the front of the house then went inside. A few minutes later he came out carrying something wrapped in a blanket and laid it in the back of the wagon before climbing onto the seat. He was followed outside by a woman who climbed into the wagon next him. From this distance the man and woman appeared to be older, maybe in their sixties or seventies.
“Look there, Connor,” Jericho said and pointed toward the house. “The man just carried something out in a blanket and laid it in the back of the wagon. I think we should speak with them.”
The man slapped the horses and the wagon moved at a slow pace to the main road, then stopped when the couple saw the group of riders approach.
“Morning,” Connor said and tipped his hat.
“Morning,” the old man replied. “Can I help you folks?”
“Maybe so. We’re looking for a young woman who got lost during the storm the other night. She’s about twenty-four with dark, reddish-brown hair, and green eyes. You happen to see her?”
The man glanced at the woman beside him, then back at Connor. “What you want her for?”
“She’s my sister and was kidnapped eight years ago. We heard she lived at the Moser farm but took off during the storm.”
“She got a name?” the old man asked.
“Meggie. Meggie MacLaren.”
“She calls herself Meggie Delaney,” Grace interjected and saw the look of surprise on Connor’s face.
“Agnes?” the man looked to the woman.
“I suppose it’d be all right, George.”
“We got a young woman in the back of this wagon. Found her over yonder in that shack,” he pointed across the road to the falling down cabin. “She was sick, got better then took a turn yesterday. High fever, delirious. We’re on our way to find the doctor.”
By this time Connor, Grace, and Jericho had all dismounted and stood by the wagon, peering into the back but not touching the blanket.
“May I,” Connor asked, his voice shaky, too afraid to hope the woman under the blanket was Meggie.
The man nodded. “Go ahead and look.”
Connor reached in, touching the edge of the blanket, and slowly pulled it back. His breath caught. Even sick, Connor recognized Meggie curled into a ball, clutching a coat that had been wrapped around her. “My God, Meggie.” He looked up at Jericho. “It’s Meggie! We finally found her!” He jumped into the wagon and lifted his sister
, cradling her in his arms, rocking her, everyone else all but forgotten.
The others watched as Connor held his sister, speaking in soft whispers to her, telling her everything would be fine, that he’d take care of her.
“Uh, son, we best get going to town. She’s in a bad way,” the man interjected.
Connor took a hard look at Meggie this time, touching her face, and noticing the fever. Her teeth were chattering and her body shivered even with the burning fever.
“I’ll bring Crusader,” Jericho offered. “You stay in the wagon with Meggie.”
Connor just looked up and nodded.
******
Connor refused to leave the room even with the threats the doctor and nurses threw at him. He stayed, back against the wall, arms crossed, and watched as they worked on his sister. It had been eight long years, there was no chance he’d let her out of his sight for even a minute until he knew she’d be all right.
The doctor walked up to him after tending to Meggie. “Let’s talk outside a minute.”
Connor glanced at Meggie, obviously not wanting to leave.
“She’s in good hands.”
They walked down the hall a bit, then stopped.
“Your sister has pneumonia. As you heard, Mr. and Mrs. Hines told us she had a hacking cough and fever when they found her. She hasn’t been able to keep food down, her fever has spiked back up, and she’s having chills. They said she’s been delirious much of the last few days. We’re bringing down the fever but there’s not much we can do about the infection. We may have caught it early enough and she’s young and seems pretty healthy. Even so, you need to know that the odds aren’t good she’ll pull through.”
Connor stared at the doctor, not believing the man’s words or accepting them. “What can I do?” His words were strained as he began to comprehend that Meggie might never recover. He may have found her only to lose her forever to the life-threatening disease.
“Pray, Mr. MacLaren, and don’t stop.”
Connor nodded and started back toward the room. The doctor reached out to stop him.
Deadlier Than the Rest Page 15
