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  Deadlier than the Rest

  MacLarens of Fire Mountain

  SHIRLEEN DAVIES

  Book Five in the MacLarens of Fire Mountain Series

  Copyright © 2014 by Shirleen Davies

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.

  For permission requests, contact the publisher.

  Avalanche Ranch Press, LLC

  PO Box 12618

  Prescott, AZ 86304

  Deadlier than the Rest is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is wholly coincidental.

  Cover artwork by idrewdesign

  Book design and conversions by Joseph Murray at 3rdplanetpublishing.com

  Description

  “A passionate, heartwarming story of the iconic MacLarens of Fire Mountain. This captivating historical western romance grabs your attention from the start with an engrossing story encompassing two romances set against the rugged backdrop of the burgeoning western frontier.”

  Connor MacLaren’s search has already stolen eight years of his life. Now he close to finding what he seeks—Meggie, his missing sister. His quest leads him to the growing city of Salt Lake and an encounter with the most captivating woman he has ever met.

  Grace is the third wife of a Mormon farmer, forced into a life far different from what she’d have chosen. Her independent spirit longs for choices governed only by her own heart and mind. To achieve her dreams, she must hide behind secrets and half-truths, even as her heart pulls her towards the ruggedly handsome Connor.

  Known as cool and uncompromising, Connor MacLaren lives by a few, firm rules that have served him well and kept him alive. However, danger stalks Connor, even to the front range of the beautiful Wasatch Mountains, threatening those he cares about and impacting his ability to find his sister.

  Can Connor protect himself from those who seek his death? Will his eight year search lead him to his sister while unlocking the secrets he knows are held tight within Grace, the woman who has captured his heart?

  Read this heartening story of duty, honor, passion, and love in book five of the MacLarens of Fire Mountain series.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to some of my readers who have taken the time to send messages of praise and encouragement. Without you I would have little insight on how well I am meeting your expectations. My sincerest thanks to Patty, Nancy, Barbara, Amber, Kim, Amy, Daniel, and all those who have watched this journey unfold. Your enthusiasm and support has been a true blessing.

  Acknowledgements

  I want to thank my editor, Danielle Gavin, who offered insights and expertise.

  Many thanks also go out to my wonderful resources, including Diane Lebow, an expert at guiding my social media endeavors, Joseph Murray who is fabulous at formatting my books for both print and electronic versions, and idrewdesign, the talent behind the wonderful book covers. Your work is greatly appreciated.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other books by Shirleen Davies

  DEADLIER than the REST

  Prologue

  Red Hook, Brooklyn

  The combination of sea air and early evening drizzle blanketed the walkway in a sheet of slippery, wet slime. It was late afternoon and already the sky was as black as pitch. Meggie shifted from one foot to the other waiting for her brother. He was seldom late. She’d already waited an hour.

  Her lower back ached almost as much as the muscles between her shoulder blades. She bent down to stretch the tired muscles, then stood to lift both arms above her head. Ten hour days as a cleaning woman and cook at the boarding house were taking a toll.

  Meggie turned at the sound of footsteps, sure it was her oldest brother, Connor. He worked at the harbor in Red Hook, Brooklyn. Although many found it hard to find a job, Connor had always been able to find something at the bustling shipping port.

  She looked up when the sound stopped, then turned in a circle. Was he playing a game, sneaking up to scare her? That would be just like him, trying to get her to laugh after making her wait.

  The footsteps started again, becoming louder as they grew closer. Whoever it was made no attempt to conceal their approach.

  “You alone, Missy?”

  She heard the voice before she could make out the silhouette of the man who’d emerged from a nearby alley. He wasn’t tall, perhaps five-feet-six, and his girth extreme. Dirty, ragged, damp clothing clung to his arms and legs.

  Meggie stepped away at his approach. “No, I’m not alone. My brother is inside,” she indicated the brick building next to her.

  The stranger looked at the building and scoffed. “Ain’t no one in there, Missy. Everyone knows the place is abandoned.” He looked her over as if he were making some kind of decision.

  Fear rippled through her. She’d never been approached before—Connor was always here to make sure of it. Meggie looked one direction, then another in a frantic attempt to find help.

  She took another step back, then another, planning to turn and run. From out of nowhere a strong arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her close, and clamping a hand over her mouth. It belonged to someone taller than the stranger before her. She could feel his breath, smell the stench at his whispered command.

  “Now don’t you try to fight us. You understand what I’m say’n?”

  Instead of complying, Meggie pushed hard against him, trying to kick backwards at his legs. He swung her around. The slap snapped her head back. He pulled out a dirty rag and stuffed the gag in her mouth. Tears stung her eyes but the defiance remained. He swung her over his shoulder, then disappeared down the narrow alley, the other man on his heels.

  *******

  He’d looked everywhere. Up and down the main street as well as every alley. The panic he felt closed in on him. Connor was late but he’d expected her to wait. Meggie knew how dangerous it was to walk home alone. Either he or their other brother, Pierce, accompanied her everywhere. But maybe…

  Connor broke into a run, increasing his speed with each block. His arms pumped in a frantic attempt to increase his speed. The old, crumbling building where they lived was one block further. He hit the door hard, pushing it open, and dashed up the stairs. Connor fumbled for the key. Pierce pulled it open and stood back, allowing him to enter.

  “Is Meggie here?” His breath came out in labored gasps. He bent at the waist and placed his hands on his knees trying to calm his breat
hing.

  “She’s not with you?” Pierce responded, his eyes wide. He poked his head out the door, then walked to the stairwell and looked down. No one.

  “No. She wasn’t there when I arrived. I looked everywhere.” Connor stopped to think. Was there someplace else she’d go? Her closest friend lived blocks away. No, Meggie wouldn’t go there alone he decided. “We’ve got to find her.” He grabbed a tattered coat from a hook and slipped into it while Pierce did the same. “But we keep each other in sight. I don’t intend to lose you, also.”

  They searched for hours, stopped everyone they saw to ask if they’d seen her. It was after midnight when the brothers walked into the police station—all other options exhausted.

  The police did what they could, at first, but with little evidence, they gave up within a few days. There was no body, nothing suspicious other than the fact she was gone. The station captain had more than once insinuated she was just a runaway.

  Connor continued to leave each morning for his job at the docks but each night he searched, never giving up, and never believing Meggie had run away.

  Days passed, then weeks, without word. On the anniversary of her disappearance one year later, Connor quit his job, packed what little belongings Pierce and he owned, and began what would become his life’s work—finding Meggie MacLaren.

  Chapter One

  Salt Lake City, Utah Territory

  Eight Years Later

  Connor sat in the back of a large room, listening to the newest measures the United States Congress had taken against members of the Mormon Church. It was well known that the Edmunds Act prohibited polygamy several years before, making it a federal crime. Many plural marriage families went into hiding or seclusion, living just ahead of prosecution.

  An underground of displaced polygamists existed within the city and the surrounding area. Most tended to live within the law, except for continuing their practice of keeping multiple wives. There was a fanatical minority, however, who refused to abide by the legislation. These families were committed to their polygamist lifestyle, and were known to protect their own.

  Today’s discussion centered on the newly enacted Edmunds-Tucker Act, which disincorporated the Mormon Church and effectively destroyed the cultural system that had guided it for years. There was little doubt the residents of the city, the entire region, were under the complete authority of the federal government. Utah was a territory and under federal control.

  Connor didn’t care at all about the church or its troubles. He was here for one purpose—to discover information about the man who held his sister, Meggie.

  The last telegram from private investigators his former employer, Louis Dunnigan, had hired said Meggie was spotted in Salt Lake City. She had been in a wagon with two other women, three children, and one man. The men Dunnigan had hired were certain it was her. He needed to find the name of this man and his location.

  Connor met with the two detectives, Fred Helms and Roy Crowley, when he’d arrived. They provided a decent description and a drawing of the man’s face. From what Connor could tell, there wasn’t much to distinguish him from many average looking men with brown hair and eyes.

  The most critical information involved the man’s association with the Mormon Church. The fact that he traveled with three women, none young enough to be his children, indicated he was a polygamist, living underground. That he had brought the women with him into the city was intriguing. The man was either bold or stupid given the penalties for multiple wives.

  “Have you seen any of them since?” Connor had asked.

  “No, and we lost them in the crowded streets. That’s why we recommend the meeting tomorrow night. The Mormons are a tight-knit group. Don’t expect much. But you just need one person who recognizes the man to give you what you need.”

  Connor stared at the black and white sketch. “You said he’s tall?”

  “He was seated in the wagon, but yes, he appeared to be tall with thick arms and large hands. The man towered over the others in the wagon,” Fred replied. “You know you don’t have to go in there alone. Roy and I can tag along, talk to some of them.”

  MacLaren thought about Fred’s offer, deciding it was best to go on his own. “Thanks, but I think I should go alone. I’ll probably stand out anyway, no sense drawing too much attention and scaring someone off.”

  The following night, Connor sat at the back of the meeting room, staring at the drawing with the hope that someone would recognize the face.

  “I noticed you sitting alone. I’m Parley Smith. I don’t believe we’ve met.” Parley was a tall, slim man, with a graying beard, and slight stoop. “May I join you?”

  Connor indicated the seat next to him and stuck out his hand, which the other man accepted. “Connor MacLaren.”

  Parley looked over his shoulder, surveying the scene, then took the empty seat next to Connor. “You’re not a member of our church, are you?”

  “No.”

  “Are you an enemy of our beliefs?”

  “No. Just curious, nothing more.”

  Smith sat back and crossed his legs, becoming engrossed in the debate.

  “It’s a hard decision,” Smith said after a few moments.

  “What’s that?”

  “Giving up the old ways, even though most agree it’s the right decision.” He paused to listen to the speaker, then continued. “It’s not easy having more than one wife.” Parley sent Connor a thin smile.

  “I can’t imagine.”

  “You’re married, then?”

  “No. That’s why I can’t imagine what it’d be like.”

  Parley chuckled at the comment, deciding he liked this man even if he wasn’t one of them.

  “What brings you here?”

  Connor needed to start with someone and Parley seemed like the best choice. He pulled out the drawing, holding it so the man could get a good look. “I’m trying to find this man. You recognize him?”

  Parley held a corner of the paper to steady it. Connor noticed his eyes widen for an instant, then his face went blank. “No. I’m sorry, but I’ve never seen the man. Why are you looking for him?”

  Connor knew the man was lying. He chose his next words with care. “I’m told he has several women with him. There is one who might choose to leave.”

  Parley didn’t respond right away, but considered Connor’s words. “It is a serious issue. To make a woman stay without her consent.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  Connor noticed the meeting had adjourned. Men broke into groups. Some already engaged in heated discussions, others spoke in quiet voices about their future. Parley stood and turned toward him.

  “It was my pleasure to meet you, Connor MacLaren. Perhaps we will see each other again.”

  Connor watched Parley walk away to join one of the groups. He stood, selected some men a couple of aisles away and showed them the drawing he’d shown Parley. He received much the same reaction. No one had seen him—at least that’s what they said. Again, Connor believed they were holding back. Someone in this room knew the man, where he lived, and the women with him. He wouldn’t stop asking until he found that one person who was willing to talk.

  ******

  Frustration ate at Connor as he rested his arms on the bar and sipped his whiskey. The saloon near his hotel was crowded with men playing poker, women plying their trade, and patrons just looking for an escape. He’d decided to stop for one drink before meeting the two detectives for dinner at a small restaurant around the corner.

  “Hello, mister. Can I order you another drink?”

  Connor glanced at the woman with dark hair and bright red lipstick. She smelled of tobacco, alcohol, and stale perfume.

  “No thanks, I’m good.”

  “See anything else that may interest you?”

  He knew she was trying to earn a buck, just like everyone else, but those activities held no interest tonight.

  “Maybe a card game.” It was blunt but the truth. That was the
only thing that called to him and even that had little appeal.

  “Suit yourself, honey.”

  As she turned to walk away shouting erupted from a table near the window. One man was standing, holding a gun which he pointed at a man across the table.

  “I won’t be cheated out of a week’s earnings,” he bellowed.

  Another man from the table stood. “Put the gun down, mister. This here’s a friendly game. No one else saw any cheating going on.”

  “That’s only ‘cause you weren’t looking. This fellow’s been cheating all night and getting away with it.”

  “Enough.” The deep voice came from the bartender who held a shotgun pointed at the angry patron. “Put your gun away, or get out. Now.”

  A shot rang out, ricocheted off the bartender’s arm before crashing into the mirror behind the bar. Another shot split the air. Those in the saloon watched as the angry patron looked down at his shirt to find it soaked in blood. The pistol fell from his hand as his body slumped to the ground.

  “You’d better get the sheriff,” Connor told the bartender before holstering his still smoking gun.

  An hour later, Connor strolled out of the saloon having answered numerous questions about the shooting. Not one of the patrons could find a reason the killing wasn’t justified. In their minds, the man had tried to kill the bartender. It was a righteous kill.

  ******

  “Meggie, would you get some water while you’re outside?” At thirty-one, Nina was several years older than Meggie. She was Jeremiah Moser’s first wife, had borne him two children, both girls. He’d taken a second wife, Ada, who’d borne him another daughter. In his quest for a boy, Jeremiah married Grace but she’d never conceived. He’d bought Meggie from a drifter. They’d married within days. Only his first two wives were of the Mormon faith, but that hadn’t seemed to matter to Moser.

  Unlike Meggie, Nina was content with her life and wouldn’t consider leaving the man who’d provided a home and food for her and their daughters.

  “Of course. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Meggie slipped outside. They lived a considerable distance from the city, isolated from neighbors, and miles from any means of escape.