Iron Will (Grizzly Encounters Book 1)

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by Kris Norris




  GRIZZLY ENCOUNTERS

  IRON WILL

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  OTHER BOOKS BY KRIS NORRIS

  IRON WILL

  DEDICATION

  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-TW0

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  EPILOGUE

  EXCERPT ~ MARSHAL LAW

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  OTHER BOOKS BY KRIS NORRIS

  SINGLES

  Centerfold

  Keeping Faith

  My Soul to Keep

  Ricochet

  SERIES

  ‘TIL DEATH

  1 – Deadly Vision

  2 – Deadly Obsession

  3 – Deadly Deception

  COLLATERAL DAMAGE

  1 – Force of Nature

  DARK PROPHECY

  1 – Sacred Talisman

  2 – Twice Bitten

  3 – Blood of the Wolf

  ENCHANTED LOVERS

  1 – Healing Hands

  FROM GRACE:

  1 – Gabriel

  2 – Michael

  GRIZZLY ENCOUNTERS

  1 – Iron Will

  THRESHOLD

  1 – Grave Measures

  COLLECTIONS

  Dark Pursuit

  Into the Spirit, Boxed Set

  RE-RELEASING SOON

  TOMBSTONE

  1 – Marshal Law

  2 – Forgotten

  3 – Last Stand

  WHAT REMAINS

  1 – Untainted

  2 – Wasteland

  3 – Mutation

  4 – 5 Reckoning

  Iron Will

  Copyright © year, Kris Norris

  Edited by Chris Allen-Riley and Jessica Bimberg

  Cover Art by Kris Norris

  ISBN 978-1-988851-00-6

  Published by Kris Norris

  Released ~ August, 2017

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the author.

  GRIZZLY ENCOUNTERS

  IRON WILL

  KRIS NORRIS

  IRON WILL

  Cullen James isn’t a patient man. It’s not a secret, and he doesn’t care if people curse him for it. He’s trying to build a railroad through the upper reaches of Colorado before the heavy winter snows grinds the project to a halt, not win a popularity contest with his crew. He doesn’t do contests because when he sees something he wants, he hunts it down. Whether it’s the bear lurking beneath his skin, or just his dominant personality, isn’t clear. But it doesn’t matter because he doesn’t stop until he gets what he needs. And right now, there’s nothing he needs more than Lucas Quinn and Hollis Chambers. Bare. Ready. Desperate for his touch.

  Lucas knows Cullen’s thoughts. His desires—has since they first met. Since his bear recognized the

  man as his mate, even if they haven’t claimed each other, yet. Lucas has been waiting. Fighting the burning need to consume the man until they found their other partner. But the waiting was over the moment he caught Hollis’ scent.

  Unfortunately, she has no idea what she’s gotten herself into. They might have handled their initial meeting poorly, but that doesn’t mean they’ll let her go. Hollis belongs to them. Their missing piece of the puzzle they can’t let slip away. She might try to distance herself, but like their bears, they’re relentless. And they’ll stop at nothing to make the feisty new doctor theirs. It’s just a matter of time.

  The West isn’t the only thing that’s wild in town. And they’re going to use that to their advantage. Let the chase begin.

  DEDICATION

  To my cabin sisters, aka the Ladies of the Lake.

  Thank you for endless laughs, amazing conversations and for being part of legendary cautionary tales.

  Love you bitches.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Devil’s Gate rail camp, Southwestern Colorado, 1899

  “What the Hell do you mean we lost two more men?”

  Cullen James turned, ignoring the way his voice seemed to bounce off the walls of the sheriff’s office as he grabbed his hat, clenching it in one hand as he scrubbed the other down his face. He hadn’t been gone more than forty-eight hours, and somehow, they’d managed to suffer another setback, making his job that much harder.

  He crushed the growl rumbling through his chest. This day was quickly taking a turn for the worse, and the sun hadn’t even set, yet. That’s when the liquor started talking, making otherwise calm men act like bullies with something to prove. And he couldn’t afford to let a stupid fight over cards or a working girl at the saloon lead to more injuries.

  He set his jaw, staring at the man off to his left, wishing his feelings for the guy didn’t lessen some of the anger coursing through his veins, but it was pointless. Just looking at Lucas eased the tight feeling in his chest. Took the edge off the uncertainty gnawing at his gut. “I sent three men on horseback as guards. How did those idiots manage to get themselves shot?”

  Lucas leaned against the wall just inside the doorway, arms crossed over his massive chest, one foot braced against the wood paneling. He gave Cullen an arch of one brow as he shrugged. “Dangerous times, Cullen. You know that. For every armed man we send out to stand watch, three more gunmen are waitin’ in the trees, ready to attack whenever the situation looks promisin’. We should consider ourselves lucky. Could have lost the whole damn crew.”

  Cullen tilted back his head, fighting the urge to slam his fist into the wall, or drown his anger in a bottle of whiskey. Ten weeks. That was how long they had to finish the damn spur before the heavy mountain snow set in, and if the men weren’t having shootouts in the saloon, the bloody gangs were raiding the town or ambushing crews on their way back from the rail.

  He raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath when it flopped back into his eyes. “Any others get injured?”

  “Not this time. I just happened to show up before those bandits had gotten off more than a couple of rounds each. Managed to convince the gunmen it was in their best interest to leave, but not before they’d helped themselves to some of our supplies. But it was just dumb luck I was headed back from the outpost. Otherwise, we’d be faced with a room full of patients with no one to treat them.”

  “What you mean is you’re damn lucky you didn’t get yourself killed.”

  Lucas grinned. “You almost sound as if you’d miss me.”

  “Fuck off. You know what you mean to me.”

  Lucas’ gaze dropped to Cullen’s crotch. “You keep promisin’—”

  “And you keep turnin’ me down…mate.”

  The other man’s shoulders drooped, his smile fading into a thin line. “You know why.”

  “You still thi
nk we’re missin’ a piece of the puzzle.”

  “Not a piece…a third.” He huffed at Cullen’s glare. “Don’t give me that look. I know you sense it, too. If you didn’t, you would have pressed the subject far more than you have.” He released a rough breath. “I’m not saying I’m not your mate. Trust me, my damn grizzly is feeling more than a bit possessive where you’re concerned. It doesn’t like waitin’ any more than your Kodiak does. But… We both know we have another mate out there. And somehow, claimin’ each other first… It doesn’t sit well with either part of me.”

  Cullen sighed. Fuck, he hated when Lucas was right. And the man was definitely right. Cullen had known the moment they’d met he was bound to Lucas. His scent, his skin, his sheer presence affected Cullen in a way he’d never experienced before. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d sensed something was off. Lucas hadn’t been lying. The fact they’d been around each other for several months and hadn’t yet given in to the fury involved with mating—that was proof enough. Though damn if the other man didn’t make Cullen want to put that theory to the test. Slam Lucas against the wall and taste that cocky mouth of his. Feel the man’s tongue tangle with his, the hard planes of his body firm against him.

  Lucas grinned, the smug tilt only fueling Cullen’s possessive feelings. “I know that look, too. And Hell yeah, I want all of that and more…just as soon as we find that missin’ piece, as you put it.”

  Cullen fisted his hands, breathing deeply in the hopes of stemming the fire beneath his skin. Keep his other half from seizing control. A hint of claws scratched at his palms before he managed to pull the animal back—temper it with token promises. Ones he wasn’t sure would ever come true. A hand landed on his shoulder, and he turned to gaze at Lucas.

  His mate smiled. “I won’t be able to fight the urge much longer, either. But until my damn bear decides it’s done waitin’…”

  Cullen nodded, giving the man a good-natured shove to help calm his beast. “So…do I have a couple of bodies out on the spur I need to tend to? Or did they manage to make it back before succumbing to their injuries?”

  “I managed to drag their asses back on the wagons. Wounds weren’t all that bad, but without any form of treatment…they bled out.” Lucas shook his head as he paced to the other side of the room before turning, again. “We need a doctor, Cullen. A real one. Not some drunk barber who thinks bleedin’ the men with leeches is the answer to every damn problem that stumbles through his doors. The jackass hasn’t saved a single life since that holier-than-thou physician the company hired packed up his clinic and rode out of here three months ago. And we don’t have the resources to keep replacin’ these men.”

  Lucas walked over to him. “Word’s getting ‘round. Everyone knows Buford’s gang is shootin’ up everything within a hundred miles of Durango, and rail camps and lines are easy picking—gives them a steady supply of explosives and ammunition so they can hit the bigger towns. Maybe take down a bank. As long as we’re here and vulnerable, Buford will keep sending men our way, especially when he knows we don’t have the resources to protect the line against his numbers. It’s getting harder and harder to find good people to fill these spots. This isn’t a large-scale undertaking like some of our previous jobs. Being privately commissioned as we are means limited funds, which in turn means smaller crews, less support. We can’t afford to lose any more men…not like this. Work’s dangerous enough without worrying a trip to the clinic will kill ya.”

  “I’ll send more guards. Ride out myself if I have to.”

  “And when one of those bastards clips you with a bullet?”

  “Cold day in Hell, my friend. We both know that.”

  “Not if half your attention is focused on worrying about how far we got on the line instead of which scraggly bastard is hidin’ behind the next hill.”

  “Even if that happened, I’ll heal. We’re not like the others, Lucas, you know that. And I’m far from an easy target.”

  “Being a shifter doesn’t make you invincible.” Lucas clasped Cullen’s shoulder. “I suppose we could get a few more of our kind out here, seeing as they wouldn’t really need medical support, but—”

  “But that would end in bloodshed of another kind. If we were fully bonded, we could tolerate having other shifters cross over into our territory, but in our current situation…”

  Lucas nodded. “I’ll see to the crews. Find more men if we need to, but it won’t mean much without a doctor.”

  “You think I haven’t fucking tried?” He stomped across the room, kicking at a chair. It clattered to the floor, the loud sound soothing some of raw feelings burning in his gut. “I’ve requested a replacement every day for the past three months. No one wants the job, simple as that. Hell, they don’t even get off the damn supply train, just stare at the makeshift town through the window and go right on back to Boston or New York or wherever the Hell else they came from. Face it, the kind of man that’d be willin’ to come this far and work in these conditions quit after the war. And these new doctors simply don’t want to make that kind of sacrifice. Not when they can find work in the big cities or established towns. The kind with money and shops and federal marshals.”

  “The war’s been over for thirty years.”

  “Land’s still tainted with blood. You don’t clean that kind of horror away in a hundred years. The farther we go, the worse it gets.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, pushing the damp mass out of his eyes. “I’ll send another telegram. Maybe if they believe the line’s in jeopardy, they’ll find someone who won’t quit before they’ve stepped onto that platform.”

  “The line’s always been in jeopardy.”

  Cullen scowled when the door squeaked open, the glare of the setting sun streaming through the open space. He raised his hand, shielding his eyes from the light as a dark figure walked through the doorway, a long shadow stretching across the floor.

  “Bloody Hell.” Cullen shoved his hat back on, adjusting it low over his forehead. “Shut the damn door before we all go blind and the room fills with dust.”

  The floor creaked, followed by the slamming of the door. Cullen blinked as the room dimmed, staring at the person standing just inside the doorway. Blue eyes held his gaze, tousled strands of brown hair fluttering around her face. She took a step forward, placing a couple of bags beside the door before removing a black Stetson and shaking out a mass of long hair across her shoulders. It disappeared down her back, the lazy curls bouncing as she settled her weight on one foot, the other tapping restlessly against the wooden floor. Her oilskin jacket covered her body, the open section in the front displaying a white shirt and tan trousers. He didn’t miss the belt slung low over her waist, or the twin handles resting against her hips.

  Cullen gave her body a long slow sweep, then focused on her face. “Can we help you?”

  She glanced between the men then stepped over to him, the hollow echo of her footsteps ringing through the room. “They told me I could find a Mr. Cullen James in here.”

  Cullen smirked. “Guess that depends on whether you’re here to help me or issue a duel.”

  Her lips quirked, a hint of a smile lifting one corner. “I try to avoid killin’ people unless it’s absolutely necessary.” She rocked on her heels, seemingly uncertain before tilting her head. “Mr. Gilmore sent me. The name’s Hollis Chambers.”

  Cullen glanced at Lucas, but the man merely shrugged. Shit. Cullen really didn’t have time for journalists or whatever this woman had to offer. He motioned to his partner. “This is Lucas Quinn, the resident sheriff. Now, with all due respect, Miss Chambers, it’s been one Hell of a day. Raidin’ parties are attackin’ my crews, and I’ve got a barber who thinks he can cure men by bleedin’ them dry. I really don’t have time for riddles.”

  Her expression never faltered. “Sounds like you have more than a few issues at Devil’s Gate, so I’ll get straight to the point. Mr. Gilmore hired me to fill that position you’ve had vacant for some time.”

&nbs
p; “Position?”

  She reached into an inner pocket, removing a telegram. “I believe this will clear things up for you.”

  Cullen took the paper, unfolding it before holding it up. He read through the short sentences, his gaze rising to hers once he’d finished. He gave Lucas a sideways glance before crossing his arms over his chest, her telegram still clenched in one fist. “Are you serious?”

  Those perfect lips quirked, again, as humor crinkled her eyes. “Do I look as if I’m jokin’?”

  He snorted, handing the paper to Lucas, smiling when the man had a similar reaction. Cullen nodded at her. “So, you’re telling me my boss hired you to be the resident doctor? You?”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly, the line of her jaw firming. “Tell me, Mr. James, which part do you find incredulous? That Mr. Gilmore actually found someone to come out to this Hellhole, or that it’s me?”

  “Both.”

  “I see. Then, let me put your fears to rest. Yes, I really am a doctor. I graduated from Philadelphia four years ago, and I’ve been workin’ in small towns and camps just like this one ever since. No, I didn’t travel all this way on a ruse or a whim or to admire the scenery, and yes…I know how to use the guns strapped to my hips.” She arched a brow. “Did I leave anything out?”

  He resisted the chuckle that bubbled in his chest. “I admire your tenacity, Miss Chambers—”

  “It’s Dr. Chambers, or Hollis.”

  He glanced at Lucas, slowly releasing a harsh breath. “Dr. Chambers—”

 

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