Lori Connelly - The Lawman of Silver Creek:

The Men of Fir Mountain

Lori Connelly

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright HarperImpulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 77–85 Fulham Palace Road Hammersmith, London W6 8JB www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013 Copyright © Lori Connelly Cover Images © Shutterstock.com Lori Connelly asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © November 2013 ISBN: 9780007544509 Version 2014-10-03 Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Dedication For my Bear, always.

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Lori Connelly

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Lori Connelly

Cover Images © Shutterstock.com

Lori Connelly asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © November 2013

ISBN: 9780007544509

Version 2014-10-03

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

For my Bear, always.

Fall 1891 Fir Mountain, Oregon

Energy crackled in the air. Wind howled and thunder roared, loud and intense. Clouds obscured the sky, darkening the midday hour, as rain streamed from the heavens.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Claire McConkey smiled in response to his gruff, inhospitable greeting and moved closer. “Why?”

Lightening streaked across the dull grayness above, illuminating her finely boned, heart shaped face. Dark brown hair blackened by water clung in tangles. The sight tugged at his deep need to protect her, but he fought it off with cold, hard reason. Another man might think the petite woman who stood only chest high before him, slender to the point that a stiff wind might blow her away, needed coddling. Her delicate appearance misled many. Sheriff Matthew Marston knew better.

Matt stepped out on the covered porch of his family’s log cabin. She didn’t yield ground. Their bodies brushed, and awareness flared. He closed the door behind him to keep her out of his refuge, sidestepping to put some space between them.

“Go home,” he ordered bluntly, his tone firm.

As always, eyes the same rich color as her hair mesmerized him. Claire never veiled emotion. When laughter sparkled in the depths of her eyes, her delight was infectious. If angered, one look would scorch whoever had earned her ill humor. He’d never had to guess what she was feeling, until now. His weight shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Her gaze shone with an intensity that unsettled him.

“But I’m soaked and frozen through. Won’t you ask me in?”

“No.” He was certain she was up to something, playing with him. Her soft request only hardened his resolve.

An eyebrow arched at his swift denial. “You’d let me catch my death walking in the storm?”

His eyes narrowed. Matt studied Claire for a long moment, jaw clenched, suspicion high. Mere weeks had passed since the woman who’d held his heart from the time she’d worn ponytails and he chased frogs had rejected him. She’d inflicted a wound that festered, refusing to heal. The memory haunted his quiet moments. He couldn’t understand how she could kiss him with soul searing passion one minute and then with her next breath calmly tell him that their wedding was off.

Nothing makes sense anymore. Matt sighed, and then opened the door. With a sweep of his arm, he waved her in.

“As soon as the weather clears, I’ll escort you home.”

“Hmm.” Her fingers brushed his sleeve. Claire stepped forward then paused in the doorway. Her voice was low-pitched, husky. “Could you help me? I’m afraid I feel faint.”

Matt snorted. The wilting violet routine wasn’t going to work. Her family had moved in next to his when they were both children. He’d known this strong willed woman for the majority of his life. Her supposed weakness was frankly unbelievable. Yet as twin pools of melted chocolate held his gaze, a soft plea reflected in her large eyes, his resistance softened. He shook his head even though he acted as a gentleman, and offered her his arm.

Inside, the cozy living area offered warmth, with orange flames snapping in the fireplace. Two roughly hewn chairs angled in front of it, turned from the table, created a sense of welcome. Only moments before, he’d been sitting in one, legs up, well-worn boots on the seat of the other; the most relaxed he’d been in a long while. Her arrival had shattered his peace.

Claire released her hold on the sheriff. He watched her as she walked over to stretch out her hands to the heat. Faint my-

His thought broke off as she turned sideways. Thick, dark lashes masked her eyes, but Matt felt her study him. Her hands went to the buttons on her cloak then dropped leaving the dripping garment still fastened.

“Would you help me please?”

The demure tone and posture was so completely out of character his gut tightened. “No.”

“Matthew.” Her voice soft as a caress drew out his full name. “My fingers are so cold, I can’t work the buttons.”

“They’ll warm.”

“Please.” She shivered to great effect.

Matt didn’t believe her wide-eyed innocent expression for a second, but again he couldn’t resist her. He stomped across the room. His boots hit the floor planks with satisfying thuds. As soon as the sheriff reached her, he went to work.