******
It had been a wonderful day. Meggie had wandered a good distance from the farm, toward a road she knew ran west from Salt Lake. It was the road she planned to take the first chance she got.
Dark clouds were moving in, engulfing the mountain range north of the farm, and obscuring the sun. Meggie knew she had to start back. It was after twelve o’clock, maybe two. Jeremiah never stayed in town long and she didn’t know how long the meeting would last—it could be early evening or late. She figured she had another three hours but that was all.
Lightening flashed several miles away. She counted until the sound of thunder reached her seven seconds later. A short time later another flash. Thunder cracked the sky ten seconds afterwards. The storm was moving away from her.
She sat beneath a large tree, pulled her knees up, and wrapped her arms around both legs, listening to the thunder and watching the lightning. Her mind went back to the night of Eugene’s accident. The night everything changed once more for her.
Charleston, South Carolina, several years before
Ben had ridden to Dodge Delaney’s home late the next morning when Eugene hadn’t returned. That’s when he discovered his employer had never made it to his destination. Dodge organized a search and ten men rode out to canvass the road between the two estates.
Dodge was the one to find him. Eugene’s broken body was cold and already stiffening in death. Dodge had ignored the sight, wrapping his arms around his friend, rocking him back and forth as tears rolled down his face. He didn’t attempt to hide them. Eugene was the best man he’d ever known, his closest friend, more like a brother, and now he was gone.
There must have been two hundred people at the service. Eugene Jackson was well liked, respected, and a true son of Charleston. Most went back to the Jackson estate for refreshments, discussing their memories of him—some with sadness, others smiling as they thought of the charming rogue who’d done well with the little he’d been left after his parents died.
Meggie had hidden in Eugene’s office, sitting in the large leather chair, and staring outside. The concern over her own situation was minimal compared to the sadness she felt over losing a man who’d treated her well, honorably. Meggie had no idea how long she’d been alone when the sound of the door opening and closing interrupted her thoughts. The footfalls were soft as they approached the desk and stopped. She looked up to see Dodge Delaney towering over her.
“Hello, Meggie. I wondered where you were hiding.” His soft words drifted over her. She knew Dodge was in tremendous pain over the loss of his closest friend.
“I’m sorry. I wasn’t hiding. Not exactly. It’s just that I know so few of his friends, and Ben and Nettie didn’t need my help. I think they wanted some time alone.” Her gaze moved from Dodge to the view outside. People milled around, spoke in quiet voices, discussing the man they’d lost.
Dodge cleared his throat. “We need to talk, Meggie. Make plans for you.”
She knew it would come to this, but hoped it wouldn’t be today. “All right.”
The sadness in her voice pierced Dodge’s heart. He knew the girl had held great affection for Eugene, even if it was that of an older brother. He needed to tread gently.
Dodge rested a hip against the desk and shifted his drink from one hand to the other in an attempt to get his own feelings under control. He already felt the loss and had no idea what he’d do without Eugene. Now he had to make a decision about Meggie.
He took a deep, calming breath. “Did you know that Eugene had asked me to take you into my home if anything happened to him?”
Meggie’s wide eyes flew from the view outside to Dodge. “He never said anything to me.”
“I’m not surprised. Neither one of us ever thought it would come to pass. We were both young with so many plans. We never believed anything would happen to either one of us.” Dodge’s eyes had moved to a small photograph taken a couple of years before. It sat on Eugene’s desk. Two young men with broad smiles and the world in front of them. “It’s something I never thought much about, but I want you to know I intend to honor Eugene’s request.”
Honor Eugene’s request. The words played through Meggie’s mind. Dodge didn’t say he wanted her in his house, or would be honored to have her. No, he was just complying with a friend’s request.
“Please, Mr. Delaney. You are under no obligation to take me into your household. Mr. Jackson once mentioned that you had more help than you needed. I’m certain you have no space for another.” Meggie pushed out of the chair to stand in front of Dodge. He towered over her five-foot five-inch height.
Dodge stared down into the girl’s deep, moss green eyes. They were still red and moist, remnants of her own grief over Eugene’s death. “Meggie, let me rephrase it as a request.” He set down his empty glass. “I would be honored if you would agree to live in my house until such time as you decide to follow your own dreams.”
The lump in Meggie’s throat had grown to the size of a large stone. She was determined to stop the tears that threatened. “Will I be allowed to work in your home? I don’t want to take charity or have people gossip.”
“If that’s what you want, then yes, I will find suitable work for you. And of course, with the number of people in my home, there will always be someone around. No one will gossip.” Dodge was surprised at the relief he felt at her agreeing to Eugene’s request.
“All right. I’d be very happy to work in your house, Mr. Delaney.” The smile she gave him was tentative, but it was a start. For the first time Dodge looked at her coming to his home as a step in lessening the intense emptiness that now haunted him.
“Then it’s settled. We’ll move you over as soon as you can gather your possessions.”
Meggie startled him with a beautiful smile. “Well, that will only take a few minutes. I don’t have much.”
“Good. Then you can ride back with me this afternoon.” Dodge made a slight bow and left to rejoin the others.
He’d settled her into a small room near the kitchen. It was similar to her room at Eugene’s and her duties were almost identical, but one of the maid’s was instructed to teach her to sew. Meggie already had a good knowledge of stitching. Her mother had taught her before she and her brothers had come to the new country. Dodge ran an efficient home. She learned that he was quite wealthy, having grown the businesses his father had left to him, and expanded into other industries. He was twenty-two.
Present day
A huge explosion rocked Meggie from her memories of the past. The storm must have changed directions as it was now directly over her. She bolted from under the tree and took off in a run for the house. By the time she entered the kitchen her hair and clothing were drenched.
“Meggie, where in the world have you been? We’ve been worried.” Ada walked toward her with a towel.
“Are they back?”
“Jeremiah and Nina? No, not yet, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon. I was hoping you’d make it back before he arrived.”
A moment later the women heard a horse pulling a wagon.
Neither spoke. Meggie ran up the stairs, closed the door to her room, and stripped out of her wet clothes. She braided her hair and crawled under the covers, refusing to let her day be ruined by Jeremiah. Her last thoughts were of Dodge smiling as she worked on a new tablecloth. How she’d loved his smile.
Chapter Eleven
Connor didn’t know what had come over him. He was in Salt Lake to find his sister, take her home, not moon over some woman who’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with him. The trouble was, he didn’t believe her. In all his years, Connor had never felt so conflicted about a woman. Something warned him that she wasn’t who she seemed.
Connor needed to ignore his feelings toward her. What he wanted was something else entirely. It was early, and he knew she would have already started work at the restaurant. Besides, he was hungry and Jasper made a great breakfast.
Grace heard the door open. “Take a s
eat anywhere,” she called over her shoulder, not taking her eyes from the couple in front of her. “So that’s an order of flapjacks and one order of ham and eggs, right?”
“That’s right, dear. Also, more coffee when you have time.” The older couple slipped back into their private conversation.
Grace gave Jasper the order, grabbed the coffee, and topped off four cups before looking toward the newest customer who sat alone near the door. Her breath caught at the same time as she felt a trembling sensation in her stomach. She didn’t like her body’s reactions to Connor MacLaren, but she couldn’t very well ignore him.
“Good morning, Mr. MacLaren. The usual today?”
“Hello, Grace. Yes, that would be fine. Thanks.” Connor studied her, trying to understand what it was about this woman that had him acting in ways that weren’t normal—at least not for him.
He’d lived his life on the edge, making no commitments, creating no entanglements. Pierce had always told him he’d change if the right woman came along. Connor thought that was pure nonsense. At least he had until he’d met Grace. Hell, he just didn’t have time for this right now. He should get up and leave. Find another place that served ham, eggs, and flapjacks the way Jasper did. There were probably a couple other restaurants close-by to choose from.
He didn’t budge.
“Here you go. Let me know if you need anything else.” She started to turn away but stopped when Connor grasped her arm. Grace looked at the hand that held her, wanting to pull away, and at the same time curious as to what he wanted. “What is it?”
“Have supper with me.”
She eyed him, wanting to say yes, knowing she shouldn’t. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Are you afraid of me?”
“No, of course not. I work late every night.”
“Not every night.”
“I, uh…”
“Grace, another order is ready,” Jasper called from the kitchen.
“I have to go.”
“Your next night off.” Connor didn’t know where the words were coming from. “It’s just supper, Grace.”
She stared at him a long moment before answering. “All right.”
He began to tuck into his breakfast when the front door burst open and Jericho walked over to stand by the table.
“We have to talk, Connor. Now.” Jericho pulled off his hat and threw it on one chair while he took a seat on another.
Connor set down his fork, focusing on his friend. “What is it?”
“One of McCann’s carriages was blown up after it left the office earlier this week.”
Connor waived to Grace for coffee then sat back in the seat, dread filling him. “Tell me everything you know.”
Grace brought a cup filled with strong, black coffee and set it before Jericho. Connor nodded his thanks then returned his full attention to Jericho.
“Neither Alex or Lee were in the carriage. He’d asked one of his employees to stop by his house for something. It happened just a few blocks from his home. The employee and driver were killed.”
Connor scrubbed a hand over his face. “Have they arrested anyone?”
“No, but they suspect Proctor. One of the men, Earl Swain, knows explosives, and all three men have disappeared. Hatcher is certain they believe Alex was in the carriage, and is dead.” He rotated the cup in his hand. “That means you’re next on the list. They’ll come by train, Connor, and be looking for you. We can’t ignore their threat any longer.”
“No, we can’t” Connor grabbed his hat and threw money on the table. “Let’s go.”
******
Connor had spent another frustrating day passing around the sketch, talking to anyone who’d take a good look at the image. He decided to try one more block of stores then head to the saloon to meet Jericho, Fred and Roy. With luck one of them would’ve learned something more following Parley Smith and Ezra Thomas. Calvin Wallace, the jeweler, had left for Denver the day before which left Connor time to locate anyone else who might recognize the man he sought. So far it had been wasted time.
A bell sounded over the door as Connor strode through the entry.
“Good afternoon. Can I help you?”
“I hope so.” Connor pulled the well-worn drawing from a pocket. “Does this man look familiar to you?”
“Well now, let me see.” The shop owner reached for his spectacles and stared at the image. “You know, I just might recognize this fella.” He adjusted his glasses and looked again. “Yes, I believe this looks like one of the Mormons who owns a farm outside of town. He comes in here every once in a while when he can’t get what he wants from one of his own. Let me see, what is his name? Martin? No, that’s not right. Moser? Yes, that’s it. His last name is Moser. Don’t think I ever heard his first name.”
“Do you know where Mr. Moser’s farm is located?” Connor couldn’t believe he’d found someone who not only recognized the man but knew a name. The same name that was mentioned at the meeting.
“Sorry, son, I don’t. He comes in, pays cash, and leaves. I’m lucky to remember his name. But hold on a minute.” A few moments later he returned with an older woman. “This here’s Margaret, my wife. Go ahead, tell the man what you know.”
Margaret eyed the stranger. Black pants, vest, hat, and boots. She wasn’t too sure about him. He didn’t have the look of any of the men she knew.
“Margaret, tell the man what you told me. He doesn’t have all day.” Her husband nudged her just enough to get her started.
“Well, one of his wives mentioned living northwest of town. Way out from the way she talked. She’d wanted to say more but her husband, Mr. Moser, grabbed her arm and pulled her outside. Right rude of him if you ask me.”
“Did you notice how many wives he had with him? What they looked like?”
“He doesn’t come in here often and he only brings in one at a time. There’s the older one. She has real dark hair. Kind of plump and short. Another one has brown hair. Come to think of it, she’s pretty short too, and a little round.”
“How tall do you think?” Connor asked. He remembered Meggie’s hair as reddish-brown, but maybe it had changed after all these years.
“Oh, maybe five-feet-three.”
Not Meggie.
“There was one other that came in once. Pretty gal. Taller than the others. She had deep red hair, kind of wavy from what I could tell. ‘Course they all wear bonnets you know.” Margaret studied the man again. He seemed hard, but lots of men grew hard in this country. “Why are you asking?”
Connor hadn’t gotten this far before. He’d never mentioned Meggie—never needed to. “I’m looking for my sister. Someone saw her with the man in this drawing. But she’s not short or plump or has red hair. I’m going to head out to see Moser. Maybe she’s a friend of one his wives.”
“Good luck, son, ‘cause you’ll need it. With the new law, those in plural marriages stay out of sight and don’t talk much with those not of their faith. Most aren’t violent at all, but there are some who’ll protect what’s theirs no matter what.” The merchant walked around the counter and stuck out his hand. “Hope you find your sister. I’m Edwin Miles. Come back in sometime, let me know what you discover.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miles, Mrs. Miles. I’m Connor MacLaren, and I do appreciate the information.” Connor folded the drawing and placed it once more in his shirt pocket.
He wanted to ride out that moment to find the farm, not wait to tell Fred and Roy what he’d learned. It was growing dark and he only had the slimmest knowledge of the location. Northwest. No, he’d share what the couple had told him with the other men and decide what to do from there.
******
“We’ll be in Salt Lake by late tomorrow,” the conductor told the passengers as they pulled out of Denver.
Len stared out the train window, anxious to get to the town where MacLaren had been spotted. One of the two men who’d cost him five years of his life. McCann was dead and MacLaren would be soon.
> Late the following evening Proctor, Swain, and Newell unloaded their horses, tied on the saddlebags, and found the closest saloon.
“Three whiskey’s, bartender,” Len called out. “You wouldn’t happen to know a man named Connor MacLaren, would you?” he asked as the drinks were set in front them.
“MacLaren? No, don’t recall that name, but we get a lot of men in and out of here. Anything else?”
“No.” Len didn’t bother to look at the amber liquid, just tossed it back, and asked for another.
“What now?” Bert rested his arms on the table and looked around the crowded saloon.
“Get supper, sleep, and start tomorrow. How hard can it be with three of us looking?” At least, Len hoped it wouldn’t take long.
“It’s a big place, Len,” Earl replied. “Might want to start at the Marshal’s office. Vance said MacLaren was in town looking for his sister. My guess is he’d check with the law first thing.”
“Good idea. Well, I’m ready to get some food and find the hotel Vance set up for us.” Len walked through the swinging doors and slammed into another man. “Hey, watch it.”
“My apologies, mister,” the man said, then took a good look at the gent before him. He’d seen that face before but couldn’t place it. Fred Helms was good with faces, especially those of men he’d arrested. Two other men walked up to stand by the stranger, and the face now made sense. Len Proctor, the man released from prison. Fred had to get to MacLaren. “Excuse me.” He tipped his hat and kept moving.
“That guy look familiar to you, Len?” Bert asked.
Len followed the man’s path down the walkway. “Somewhat, but can’t say from where.” He continued to watch until the man was out of sight. “Come on, I’m starving.”
The three stopped at a small restaurant and ordered steaks from a pretty woman with flaming red hair, but not before each had taken a long, slow look.
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