Sinners and Saints

Prologue

"A man is his own tormenter and his own condemner. Hence the saying: They shall go into the lake that burns with fire and brimstone. The torment of disappointment in the mind of man is as exquisite as a lake burning with fire and brimstone. I say, so is the torment of man"

–Joseph Smith, founder- Church of Jesus Christ and Latter-day Saints

The Mormon leader scowled to see the visitors who arrived that morning from town. The men entered his study with sheepish expressions. He stroked the chubby orange cat dozing across his lap.

You take unnecessary risks, Jonah Cutler remarked cuttingly before he unceremoniously shoved the cat off his lap to the floor. Your payments have all been arranged. Why have you come?

The businessman gritted his teeth, brown eyes filled with annoyance. I just discovered matters which will affect our dealings, Jonah. Forgive my not sending you a note. The news I have demanded this meeting.

Jonah’s frown deepened. What are you talking about?

I just came from Andrew Hollings’ funeral, the man stated harshly, his handsome face tense as he paced back and forth before the desk. It was all going just as we thought. After everyone left, Elizabeth met with me privately. I thought it was to discuss her selling her shares in the business.

Jonah raised a bushy gray eyebrow. I trust you gave the widow my offer?

Elizabeth informed me that only ten percent of the shares in the company are owned by the Hollings’ family. Andrew’s father sold the rest to a foreign investor years ago. The family attorney said Alexander Hollings had no choice. He did so to remain in business.

Jonah’s face turned a mottled red. And you just discovered this?

The businessman nodded, pacing before the desk in renewed agitation. As you well know, I was only made acting director a few days ago. I can assure you, it was as much a shock to me.

Jonah digested the man’s announcement with a darkening scowl. Who owns the other ninety percent?

He took a sheaf of papers out of his vest, handing them over. Elizabeth wasn’t aware of any of it. Andrew never told her, he went on, coughing slightly to clear his throat. She thought the company was hers outright with him and his father both dead.

Jonah studied the documents, looking up now and again. It appears your wooing of the woman behind her husband’s back all these years proved uneventful.

There is another matter of growing concern.

Jonah pushed the papers aside in exasperation. What now?

The will states the remaining shares can’t be sold. They are not even Elizabeth’s to disperse as she would, but her son Christopher’s.

Jonah sent him a piercing look. And the boy is barely five. It will be years before he is a factor. What else did the will say?

The shares are to be held in a conservatorship until Christopher is of age. Which means Hollings’ attorney holds them. If the Hollings line should die out, the attorney maintains full control, the proceeds going to a charitable foundation. If such were to happen, Elizabeth would be left penniless.

I expect the child’s mother would be anxious to keep him healthy, the Mormon leader concluded, rubbing his beard. What of this foreign investor?

Elizabeth never met the man. It was decided Hollings’ name would remain attached to the company as a figurehead. Andrew only appeared to be in control. It was the investor who made the decisions. His name is Reginald Blackwell, some British financier. He deals through the attorney only. We sent a man up to New York. The law office found there was just a front. Stephen Ashton appears to be as much a ghost as our investor friend.

Jonah eyed both men contemptuously. You both had no idea of this going on under your noses for years.

The businessman flushed angrily. I didn’t know any of this, Jonah! This was your idea! Now I’m stuck supporting Elizabeth and her brat of a son!

You will stay on as director, Jonah concluded coldly. I see no need for any of this to disrupt our business. It changes nothing.

The politician finally broke his silence. The whole senate arms committee could face indictment if this comes out. We have to delay the shipments, if only until after the contract is approved by Congress.

The investor shouldn’t concern either of you if he doesn’t interfere with who is running the company for him, Jonah protested hotly.

But that’s just it, the businessman insisted angrily. I’m little more than a paid puppet, Jonah! I have no power to make any decisions. This will all come back on me if we don’t stop. Andrew knew about the discrepancies in the warehouse. What if he told this investor? And now it appears Blackwell never left the country. What does that tell you?

It tells me there is little cause for concern. Jonah shrugged indifferently and leaned back in his chair. Did Reginald Blackwell’s letters indicate where he is now? Surely he has an address here in the states?

The politician rubbed his furrowed brow. I learned Charles Kincaid is Blackwell’s secretary. He works out of London. He claimed in his last letter to Andrew Hollings that he never knows where to contact his employer outside of Stephen Ashton’s law firm in New York. Or he lies to cover for the man.

I think you both make too much of this. Jonah gazed at them with a negligent shrug. It might mean nothing.

No! That is where you are wrong! The businessman shook his head emphatically, careful to keep his voice down. Andrew asked me to see the inventory records that night. He knew what to look for. How? How could he have known?

Jonah frowned to see his accusing look. You suggest I had a hand in that? He shook his head, bristling in annoyance. That is ridiculous, even for you! Why would I do that? I need the shipments to keep moving. Getting you caught doesn’t help me.

Why else would Andrew be looking for those missing crates? He already knew they were gone! I certainly didn’t tell him where to look, Cutler!

You claimed that you knew all that went on at Hollings Munitions when we started this. You only have yourself to blame.

The politician chuckled at that. I remember you stating once you were the eyes and ears at Hollings Munitions. Now you look to be the cock and balls of it, my friend.

The businessman flushed in acute embarrassment as both men laughed at his expense. Andrew didn’t want anyone to know the truth. It must have hurt his pride to just work for his family’s company. Only his family attorney, this Stephen Ashton, knew of the investor and now just Elizabeth. She is too mortified to admit it to her friends. This new development is enough for me to stop.

Hollings is dead! He can’t tell anyone what he found out, Jonah argued crisply, his shrewd gaze growing colder by the second. We cannot stop the shipments. You knew this when you got involved. He stood up, his face becoming taut. It’s too late to back out. You will go through with it. You will marry Elizabeth Hollings. You will help rear her young son. You might pray Christopher lives a long and happy life. Nothing changes in regard to our private business.

You don’t worry that Andrew might have told this investor what he discovered? He glared at the Mormon leader and the other man, his face livid. Had either of you known Andrew as I did, you would both understand my cause for concern. The man was no fool! He must have sent for the investor when he discovered the shortages in the warehouse.

Jonah gripped the edge of the desk, coming halfway out of his chair in anger. You jump to conclusions!

The businessman might have answered but the study door opened. A lovely young woman with flowing honey-colored curls entered bearing a tray of tea balanced upon it. Jonah’s expression became frigid as he noted both of his companions appreciative gazes lingering on her overlong.

The young woman sensed the tension in the room at once. The visitors both smiled warmly at her before the men sat down in the chairs before the desk. Her inquisitive violet eyes moved between all three while she served the visitors.

Thank you, that will be all, Elisha, Jonah said shortly, waving her away dismissively. She left the room as quickly as she came. Now, you will return to Elizabeth’s side and console her. You will act as though nothing has happened. Hollings had no proof of anything. If he knew what you were doing he would have put a stop to it. Even if this investor was suspicious, he has no contacts at the company to inform him of anything.

The director set the teacup down with a clatter. The man is on to us! You are not the least bit alarmed! I have no desire to hang if this comes out!

Jonah rubbed his beard thoughtfully. It was fortunate that you got to Hollings so quickly. You need do nothing more than make the widow an honest woman and take your place at the company’s imaginary helm.

Is that all you have to say? He stared at him, a sick feeling forming in the pit of his stomach. You will let me take the blame if we are caught, won’t you?

Jonah smiled smugly. The church can take no part in this. You will make sure that our business at Hollings remains hidden. Of that I have no doubt. I seem to have more faith in you. Now, if you don’t mind I must ask you both to go. I will expect the shipment to arrive as planned.

The director’s face paled. What if the investor should begin to question the manner of Andrew’s death?

Jonah gazed at him in growing irritation, flipping out his silver pocket watch. Our meeting is at an end. I advise you to seek further prayer and contemplation. I leave you to show yourselves out.

The director stood up first, eyeing the Mormon leader in frustrated anger. The man is out there! He knows everything that we’ve done!

And this man you think poses such a threat does nothing with such knowledge, Jonah reminded him pointedly and raised a bushy slate eyebrow. He would have alerted the authorities. Arrests would have been made. He did nothing of a sort. You let your imagination get the better of you.

As soon as this man figures out where the shipments are going, you will know I’m right. By then, it will be too late.

Jonah watched the men walk out of his office, shaking off the dire warnings made by the director of Hollings Munitions. No, he had to be wrong. The man at the company was a growing liability. His paranoia might be a potential problem he hadn’t foreseen.

The politician was a necessary evil, unfortunately. They wouldn’t have one bit of help within the government if matters became untenable.

Jonah already had the foresight to place his own man within the warehouse. The man was placed right under the new director’s nose. It was insurance should the man falter in his commitments. Regardless if he had his full cooperation, the shipments would continue.

The gentile would be dealt with if he failed to do what he was told.

Hollings’ widow was also becoming increasingly expendable. Putting her lover in as new director so soon after Andrew’s sudden death raised questions and sealed both their fates.

Until the powers that be decreed otherwise, Elizabeth Hollings would be kept in her present state of comfort. She was oblivious of her true worth. She was too stupid to realize the Hollings’ name was worth far more to the investor than the ninety percent of the shares he currently owned.

If Elizabeth had even the necessary backbone she would have demanded more than a monthly stipend from those shares after Andrew’s death. The investor would have paid whatever it took to keep her silent of who owned the majority of the company.

Jonah glanced down at the local newspaper. The story was just a small byline in the business section of the Lancaster Sentinel. The announcement that Hollings Munitions was on a short list of companies being considered for a lucrative military contract with the United States government was overlooked by many.

It was obvious to him why the investor remained quiet. The United States government would never consider giving such a rich plum of a military contract to a nearly foreign-owned company.

Alexander Hollings founded the company before the Civil War broke out. He ran into financial difficulty soon after. He was quite resourceful during the domestic conflicts erupting in America before and during the war. He discreetly sold ammunition and weapons to both sides.

The man was still favored after his death by the southern senators who remained on in the government after President Grant was elected. These same corrupt men sat on a senate arms committee and decided such matters. They wouldn’t forget Hollings’ previous contributions to the cause.

One senator in particular paid close attention to all that went on at Hollings Munitions. He had a personal stake in the company receiving the arms contract.

The alarming discovery of who truly pulled the strings at Hollings compromised all of their dealings.

The politician would maintain the line at all costs. He had no choice. He worried of certain facts becoming known before midterm elections.

Civil War only allowed the rats to take over the ship.

When the south fell, so did Hollings’ company stock price. The mounting credit and amassing debts that Alexander foolishly extended the rebel army were never honored by the Confederacy. The confederate money they paid him with was worthless when the south lost. His investors and partners fled him in droves.

It only opened the door to foreign investment, allowing the Englishman to quietly buy up the cheap stock through his American-based attorney. Stephen Ashton used a series of shell companies under American ownership to buy up the bulk of the shares to disguise the takeover.

Alexander was blindsided. He quickly learned he no longer controlled his company anymore. He adapted to the changes when the Englishman agreed to leave him in charge.

Andrew Hollings later demanded legal safeguards be put into place for his son Christopher when he took over after his father’s death. The codicil the attorney implemented made it impossible for anyone to acquire the remaining shares left to his son.

If Christopher died without passing the shares on to his own heir, the foundation took control. The foundation was in place merely to name the charities and philanthropic organizations to receive the annual dividends.

When the foundation was named conservator of the shares in Hollings’ will, it theoretically gave the Englishman absolute power. Because the foundation was a nonprofit organization, they could not vote on matters pertaining to the munitions company or leverage the stock on the exchange.

Stephen Ashton was in charge of any acquisitions, limiting how the foundation could disperse the funds as they would. The funds these shares generated would be under Ashton’s sole control to invest and in effect, under the investor’s to direct as he would.

None ever imagined that this failing munitions factory would be at the heart of so many illegal deals made by greedy politicians and their wealthy donors during the Civil War.

The corrupt men who headed the charitable foundation realized too late that Andrew Hollings tricked them. They anticipated receiving the bulk of the shares when he died, not a mere ten percent. The modest amounts they received in fees to shield the stock under its nonprofit umbrella wasn’t worth their time.

These same men were trying to find a way to oust Stephen Ashton, having secret meetings in New York to find a way around the matter. They wasted time looking for a legal avenue. The only way to dissolve the grant made by Andrew Hollings was to prove the company was involved in criminal activities. To ever prove that, they went up against the most powerful men within the United States government.

Hollings had a mountain of rifles that went unclaimed by either side towards the end of the war. Bought and paid for, Alexander Hollings thought they would never be missed. The black market served to make up the difference in his bottom line.

None would ever know, he reasoned. He met with unscrupulous men from all over the world. Soon, shipments of illegal weapons were sent to all of those places. He ignored his own conscience, taking the money and consoling himself that he had no choice.

Young Andrew Hollings inventoried the stockpile years later after noticing the many crates were dwindling. He found many thousands of weapons gone from the warehouse with no records of any sales. He had the integrity to reach out to his business partner to stop it.

The newly-named director of Hollings Munitions pushed Andrew Hollings off the bridge before he met with the Englishman that night to exchange the proof of all their guilt. The investor knew nothing. They had no reason to delay the next shipment.

The Lord will guide our way.

Chapter One

1870 Lancaster, Pennsylvania

The drifter walked through the high steel gates, his shrewd gaze alert to the rifles trained upon him. The Mormon community was surrounded by eight-foot high cut-stone walls all the way around. The ward was set away from town, several miles out in the country.

Many a curious eye followed him as he entered the settlement. He was abruptly searched by the two men who met him at the entrance. The two burly guards scowled, shaking their heads in disgust. They pulled out several guns, knives, and other assorted weapons from within his ragged military overcoat and leather bags.

Easy there, fellas, the drifter drawled and held his arms up. There’s more where that came from.

They padded him down roughly only to find more weapons hidden on his person. He shrugged and smiled at them insolently. He was forced to leave all behind in a basket before being allowed to continue on.

The man peered up from under the brim of his black Stetson suddenly, as if sensing he was being watched. His dark blue eyes narrowed as they scanned the large brick two-story house before him.

~ ~ ~

The girl stood back away from the window to avoid his seeing her. A tall blond man joined her there, following her gaze to the courtyard beyond. He smiled reassuringly to see her dismayed expression.

That must be the new frontier guide Father Cutler hired from town, Abraham Mayhew supplied, seeing his sister’s frown deepen. All will be well, Elisha. What troubles you?

Elisha Mayhew sighed softly, her pretty face paling with anxiety. What troubles me is that it seems an unnecessary risk to go by wagon train.

Father Cutler says—

Elisha held up an impatient hand in exasperation. I know what he says. I find it appalling he would insist our means of travel be so primitive when his youngest wife is expecting. The expenses surely can’t be so great to justify such risks.

Abraham smiled reassuringly. Sister Naomi will be fine with you there to look after her, Elisha. Mother taught you all you need to know. You are an able midwife. The expenses are considerable for you all to go by train. The church doesn’t have the funds.

Or they don’t wish to pay! Elisha whispered sharply, earning a reproving look from her oldest brother. No! I will not be silenced, Abraham! I see no reason for this except that Jonah would quibble over the expense as if it comes out of his own pockets.

Abraham smiled in sudden understanding at her unease. You listen to Sister Miriam’s wild tales and let them upset you. The stories of the savages were much exaggerated.

No! The stories are not exaggerated, Abraham! I have read Father’s newspapers telling of white settlers being attacked out on the Western plains. The accounts have all said Indian attacks on settlers have increased since the railroad began their work.

He eyed her in blatant disapproval. You should not go into Father’s study without permission, Sister. These matters are not your concern.

And not know the truth? Elisha glared up at him, sparks of anger shooting from her violet eyes. You are the last person to chastise me for sneaking into Father’s study. You do your own share of sneaking, do you not?

You have no reason to fear, Elisha, her brother argued softly, his face reddening to have been caught there by his sister with his sweetheart in a romantic embrace recently.

One guide to lead us hardly makes me feel safe, Elisha whispered tightly, aware of the steps outside in the hallway, unconsciously lowering her voice. What is one man against so many dangers?

All will be well. Ansel will allow nothing happen to you. You worry too much. You will make yourself sick over this.

I would never be foolish enough to put my complete faith in Brother Ansel’s protection, Abraham, Elisha replied uncharitably. He would only look out for himself, whether he be my intended or not.

Abraham chuckled at her peevish tone. I can see you have not warmed to the marriage Father arranged. You are positively sour, Sister.

None of this pleases me, Elisha added harshly, her face flushed with anger. I don’t want to marry Ansel Cutler! I don’t want to go to Wyoming Territory!

This is a good match, Elisha. Ansel is going to be a bishop soon. He will be a priest one day within the church. You could do worse for a husband. You could be sealed to an elder, be one of many wives.

Father only thinks of himself, Abraham, Elisha whispered with a frown marring her smooth forehead. You think it just a coincidence that Jonah Cutler’s place on the church council here becomes vacant? I haven’t failed to see the connection.

Jonah accepted the position in Wyoming Territory a year ago, Abraham reminded her, disapproval heavy in his tone. This engagement only happened a month past. The two things have nothing to do with the other.

Or Father argued that long over my bride price, Elisha replied harshly, biting her lip in sudden anguish. I am mortified by my dark thoughts, Brother. I cannot help it! This marriage does not please me! I do not seek to bring shame upon our family but I cannot do this, Abraham!

You need to pray to the Lord for forgiveness, my sister, Abraham rebuked sternly. It is a good marriage Father has arranged. You might try to show some gratitude.

Elisha fumed silently as her brother left her alone in the Cutler’s dining room to return to his duties. She lingered there for a time to avoid the rest of the household. Only here did she have a private moment to ponder her dismal future.

Contemplating becoming Ansel Cutler’s wife in a matter of months made her lips tighten in annoyance. To imagine being tied to the unpleasant man for the rest of her days made her wish for a shorter lifespan.

It isn’t fair, Elisha thought bleakly, eyes closing in denial.

Elisha sighed in resignation. Getting out of it was futile. Her father would hear no argument, if she had the temerity to even launch one, that is.

She stepped towards the window once more. She peered out and saw the rough-looking man on the doorstep that would lead them westward. She noted his disreputable appearance with a disapproving frown.

The man was trouble from the very brim of his dark Stetson to his weathered boot tips. Something about him caught and held her attention at once. Whether it was his air of pride despite his poor circumstance or the confidence in his bearing, she wasn’t sure.

The two finely-dressed gentlemen Jonah met with earlier stepped outside. They both paid the drifter little mind as he walked by them. They waited for their carriage to be brought about. Elisha noted their anxious demeanors and was curious enough to ask who they were.

The younger man was a businessman from town. She was never told who the other man was. Whatever business the men were involved in seemed to upset them. The tension was so thick in the study she could hardly breathe when she entered to serve them.

She was suddenly torn out of her musings by movement on the porch. The men were seen leaving through the front gates. Her eyes widened to see the drifter reach down under the pretense of appearing to brush lint from his trouser leg at his knee.

In truth, he had another small pistol secreted inside his boot flap. The weapon quickly disappeared up his coat sleeve and then into his pocket.

Elisha felt slightly more reassured. The man was a bit more competent of protecting them it appeared. She swallowed hard to wonder what else the ruffian was capable of as he followed Father Cutler and his eldest son into the house to discuss business.

Elisha was startled out of her thoughts. Mother Cutler and Jonah’s second wife Miriam entered the dining room. They were discussing whether or not the man would stay on for dinner, and lamented the gentile’s presence in their home.

Mother Cutler went silent when she saw her future daughter-in-law there. Her plain face tightened in stern disapproval to find her not at her chores. Her tone came out soft but held an edge of steel.

Sister Elisha, they need your help in the kitchens. We have a guest staying tonight. Mr. Monahan will be sleeping in the barn until lodgings in town are secured. See that he has some blankets provided.

Elisha nodded without a word. She ducked out of the room and left them to return to the kitchen only to discover her presence wasn’t needed. She fumed to know she was hardly more than a servant in her intended’s home.

She knew it was uncharitable to feel that way but the work was very much one-sided in the Cutler house. The many household duties weren’t shared by all of the wives as they were in the home she grew up in. She felt overwhelmed and put upon since she came to live with them a month prior.

Elisha went down to the stables. She left a stack of blankets inside an empty stall there, wondering whether Mr. Monahan minded sleeping among the livestock. The Cutler’s would never allow a gentile to abide under their roof, even for one night. He would likely be offended.

She returned to the house to help prepare dinner, wondering why she cared what Mr. Monahan thought. The door of the study was still closed as she passed it. The muted conversation within tempted her to linger and listen.

Common sense warned Elisha to steer clear of the door and do as she was bid, or be punished accordingly. Receiving a whipping from Sister Miriam was not uncommon if the house rules were ever breeched.

Jonah’s second wife seemed to enjoy being in charge of inflicting such punishments upon the younger women and girls under her within the household. Elisha was careful to adhere to the strict rules.

Elisha was appalled at her initial reaction to the coarse man, conscious her wayward thoughts lingered a bit too long on Mr. Monahan’s decision to accept the job. She avoided focusing on the reasons that color rode high on her cheeks since she spied him in the courtyard, ignoring at once the immediate attraction.

~ ~ ~

Elisha tried not to stare at the handsome gentile during supper. It proved difficult. The scruffy dark-haired man had two heaping helpings of food. He ate as if he hadn’t in quite some time. He eyed them all curiously around the huge table.

The twenty-plus people sitting about the large oak dining table were all Father Cutler’s eldest sons, daughters, and six wives. The younger children sat at a smaller table nearby. The sheer size of the group was enough to give the man pause between bites of food.

When his startling deep cobalt blue eyes fell upon her as she passed him the tray of biscuits, Elisha blushed and unconsciously lowered her own. But not before those riveting orbs slid over her face slowly.

The lingering look he gave her was more of a caress, giving her an inner thrill. Those incredible blue eyes touched her in a way that was almost physical, making her blush to the roots of her hairline.

Her hands grew moist in her lap, clenching her linen napkin. Her heart raced uncontrollably. The man’s sheer magnetism was enough to make her tremble. Her woefully naïve imaginings made her peer up at him and look a bit too long, catching his eye more than once during the meal.

Monahan’s shaggy raven black hair was over-long and wavy, falling to just below his shoulders, tied back with a leather tie. The full goatee accentuated full sensuous lips that seemed more prone to frown than smile.

His clothing was simple dark trousers and a dinghy white shirt, a long navy blue Union overcoat that was faded and nearly threadbare. She couldn’t help but notice his high boots had holes in the bottoms of them when he was made to remove them at the door.

Mr. Monahan was seemingly unaware of her intense scrutiny. He finally wiped his mouth with his linen napkin. He politely thanked Mother Cutler and the other wives for the fine food. He stood up and promptly retreated to the stables. Father Cutler rose to show him out.

All of the females got up to help clean up after the meal. Elisha excused herself to use the washroom. She wanted to be alone to collect her errant thoughts and fan her heated face.

Elisha helped wash the dishes later, lingering on Mr. Monahan and wondering if he might need a pillow. She recalled forgetting to leave him one when she made up his bed in the stable earlier.

Elisha ignored the inner voice that mocked her sudden concern for the gentile’s comforts. She retreated after the kitchen was cleaned. She took a pillow from the linen closet upstairs, slipping downstairs and out the back door.

Her breath caught in her throat as she came around the corner. She stood riveted in the barn’s doorway. Monahan was preparing for bed inside the stall. From the overhead lantern’s dim glow, she could see the gleaming dark mat of hair on his wide muscular chest. Her eyes lingered as they traced his bared skin. The pillow nearly slipped from her shaking hands.

Monahan was sculpted and a bit too lean, his shoulders wide and broad. His arms bunched with corded muscle. His abdomen was flat and rippled. The dark hair matting his chest ended in a dark trail that her eyes followed until it ended just above his belt line. Her eyes skittered away at the last, blushing wildly.

Elisha must have made some sound. Monahan looked up at that moment. She was startled by the force of his cobalt stare, feeling trapped there. She was leery of stepping any further into the barn.

Is there somethin’ you need, honey? Monahan raised a dark eyebrow, an infuriating smile curving his full sensuous lips.

I…I…brought you a pillow, Mr. Monahan, Elisha stuttered, unable to pull her gaze from his.

Monahan sauntered towards her, his naked chest looming. His smile grew wider, growing mocking, noting her shocked reaction to his nakedness. He made no move to cover himself. His eyes never left her reddened face. He stood towering over her. His large hand outstretched to take the pillow from her trembling grasp.

Elisha’s hands shook as he reached for it. Her senses became overwhelmed with the smell of him, a mixture of tobacco and sweat. It was a heady, wholly male combination that teased her nostrils.

You just gonna stand there and gawk, girl? Or do you plan to tuck me in? Monahan stared down at her with a bold look, his insolent smile showing straight white teeth. Come in and stay awhile, honey. I won’t bite you too hard.

Elisha’s eyes widened as she absorbed his outrageous words, her anger flaring. She regarded him disdainfully, her lips turning downward at the corners. "Armed guards are less than twenty feet away, Mr. Monahan. I’m not your honey! Nor will you be biting me unless you wish to be shot for your effort."

Too bad, Monahan jeered softly, making her blush wildly, his eyes sliding down the front of her plain light blue dress to linger on the full swells beneath. You might just like it.

I see nothing to like about your disgusting suggestions, sir! Elisha glared up at him, revulsion gleaming in her violet eyes.

Kieran Monahan grinned at her prim tone, tilting his head back to inspect her florid face. Yeah, on second thought, you might just bite me.

Is there anything else you want before retiring, Mr. Monahan? Elisha was shaking in ire.

Kieran Monahan’s blue eyes twinkled in amusement. He leaned down, whispering naughtily in her ear. She let out a squeak of outrage, jumping backward slightly. Her eyes widened at the predatory look in his eyes. She hastily dropped the pillow, turned and ran back the way she came.

The man stood in the empty doorway of the barn. He looked down to see the snowy white pillow lying at his feet. He picked it up, looking across the dark grounds where the girl fled and retreated back inside, smiling as he closed the doors behind him.

Chapter Two

The sun was just peeking through the sheer cotton draperies when Kieran opened his bloodshot eyes. He groaned softly, rubbing his stubbly-cheek with an unsteady hand. His mouth was as dry as dust.

Light filtering through the sheer draperies penetrated his fogged mind. His head ached from the rotgut whiskey he drank the night before. His skull throbbed in a rousing Spanish tempo, beating at his temples like an insistent drum.

A slow glance over his left shoulder assured him his bedmate remained snuggled at his side. Her soft snores were muffled under the quilt. The whore didn’t budge when he slowly sat up. He stretched at the side of the bed, his long muscled frame unfurling amid the tangled bedding.

Kieran reached for his buckskin trousers draped over a nearby chair, pulling them on before standing and retreating to the washstand. He washed down a dry headache powder with a swig of whiskey.

He splashed tepid water on his face and rinsed out his mouth in the basin, spitting the water back into the ceramic pitcher. He wiped his face dry with a small towel.

He combed his disheveled dark hair back into a tie at his nape, his expression souring as the filtering light in the window showed the barest traces of grey there. His scruffy reflection stared back at him in the mirror without expression.

Kieran blinked first. His eyes moved away from his image, not quite sure if he wanted to know the coarse man that looked back at him anymore. That man should have stayed behind when the prison gates opened. The road was a lonely place. So off they went together. He knew one day there would be a reckoning. Only one of them would walk away.

Kieran donned a clean cotton shirt, pulling the garment out of his saddle bags. He pulled on his knee-high leather field boots. Next, he shrugged on the dark blue long Union overcoat.

The full bird insignia pins on each shoulder had been removed years before but the faded fabric around the outlined impressions remained starkly evident in the thick navy wool of the coat. Some things couldn’t be removed. They couldn’t take that away from him.

Kieran reached inside his deep leather saddle bag, pulling out a small wad of bills. He left the stack on the bedside table.

He strapped on his leather gun belt. Both silver six shooters gleamed from recent polish. He glanced over at the woman sleeping in the bed. He scratched his cheek absently, wondering if he should tell her that he was clearing out. He reached down and grabbed the long rifle under the bed.

The humor of the situation struck him. He grinned widely as he thought of the haughty boardinghouse owner. She looked at him like the lowliest of the low when he arrived here days before. Mrs. Smythe would raise a mighty stink to find the whore here and pitch a scene.

The good Pennsylvania folk didn’t need to hear that ruckus this early.

Kieran ignored the rules of the house when he snuck the prostitute into his room. It was his last night in Lancaster, Pennsylvania. He was celebrating after being released from a Union prison earlier that week.

After five years and one day, Kieran Monahan was a free man. He had only one goal in mind when he set off outside those prison gates. With just a few dollars in his pocket, he scanned the local newspaper while waiting for his train. He read that a frontier guide was needed for a wagon train heading to Cheyenne in Wyoming Territory. It departed from Lancaster, Pennsylvania the following week.

Without giving it another thought, Kieran traded in his ticket for New York and bought a seat on the stage to Lancaster. He was on a mission: find a job, find a woman, and find a bottle.

In that order, he succeeded.

Kieran reached out and shook the woman’s naked shoulder. Annie Sloan’s brown eyes fluttered open, a crooked grin curving her full lips. She glanced over at the pile of greenbacks from the corner of her eye. She sat up unsteadily, rubbing her own aching temples.

The woman was just moderately attractive, Kieran reflected with a mild bit of disappointment. The whiskey seemed to enhance her beauty by several degrees the night before.

She was older than he first noted. Her face was coarse in the harsh morning light. Her kohl-rimmed eyes were smeared, giving her the distinct look of a raccoon. She was in no hurry to leave the comfortable bed. She leaned back against the pillows.

You really gotta run off, honey?

Kieran smiled at the questionable note of regret in her voice. I got a wagon train to lead west. You best git up, Annie. That ornery Mrs. Smythe finds you up here, she’s worse than a rattlesnake to tangle with and damned near twice as mean.

The woman smiled at the charming twang of his speech. You’re really going to do it? You’re going to take all those Mormons out west? I thought you were just pulling my leg last night.

It’s a job. More than I had yesterday. Should be easy enough to get them church folks to their place. Easy money for me and my men to start over.

Why don’t they just take the damn train like everybody else? Annie shook her head slightly to clear it.

Kieran shrugged, having asked himself that very thing. The church is too cheap, I guess.

Aren’t you worried about the savages? Heard tell that Godforsaken part of the country is crawling with them. Those damn Mormons ain’t worth your life, honey.

The man chuckled, his voice lowering to a whisper. Injuns ain’t what scares me. Between you and me the Mormons is way scarier.

The prostitute laughed in agreement. She got up quickly and donned her clothing. The money was snatched up quicker than she could see to her dress buttons. The man held open the door. She passed under his arm into the hallway. He waved to her, grinning and blowing her a kiss. He watched as she crept quietly down the back staircase at the end of the corridor.

Kieran hefted up his saddle bags and went down to the lobby. Ms. Henrietta Smythe was there minding the counter in her scrupulous high-collar blue cotton frock, eagerly tallying up his bill to be rid of him.

The bill would be paid in full by the Mormon leader, as was agreed. For that, Kieran was appreciative, having spent nearly the last of his money on whiskey and his eager female companion.

The older woman looked up from the desk when he arrived. The look of disapproval stamped upon her plain face was evident in her sallow features, her long nose sliding upward unconsciously.

Good morning, Mr. Monahan, Henrietta Smythe greeted him with a forced smile, her manner as starched and frigid as the white apron tied about her broad hips. I took the liberty of sending your bill out to Mr. Cutler’s place last night. Was your stay to your satisfaction, sir?

Kieran nodded politely, knowing the woman only made idle conversation until the funds to pay for his lodgings arrived. She didn’t trust the drifter staying in her establishment.

A young boy soon arrived to the lobby. He wore the religious order’s trademark grey shirt, black trousers, and wide-brimmed black hat. He paid the woman behind the desk. The boy looked over at Kieran with a curious expression.

We’re loaded up and waiting outside, Mr. Monahan.

Kieran nodded as he hefted his saddle bags over one shoulder. He toted the rifle over the other, going outside to see the nine covered wagons waiting there in the street.

Dozens of furtive female eyes took in his rough, unkempt appearance just as the prostitute crossed the street in front of the wagons. She blew him a farewell kiss, cooing to him with a naughty smirk.

Come back and see me, Kieran!

Those dark bonnets swiveled to the left like so many ducks changing course