Fiery Passion Read online




  Cover Copy

  Passion and honor collide in the wild and rugged American West, where one woman’s love of adventure is matched by her desire for one man…

  Victoria Harrison had no desire to marry to secure her position as heir to her family’s lumber business. And she doesn’t want to seek a man’s help now. But with her prized Great Mountain Lumber Mill threatened by one of her father’s old enemies, she needs an ally. She’s found one in Wall Adair, the handsome new leader of the notorious gang of rivermen known as the Devil May Cares.

  It takes a lot of guts to run the biggest mill this side of the Rocky Mountains, and Wall admires Victoria’s determination to do it on her own terms. With each day they spend together, he uncovers a vulnerability hidden deep behind her strong façade. Wall has a duty to uphold—one that’ll soon call him away from the freedom he loves and back to his family’s ranch. Until then, he’ll protect the boss lady with every ounce of his strength…knowing the devil himself can’t keep him from losing his heart…

  The Montana Mountain Romance series by Dawn Luedecke

  White Water Passion

  Wild Passion

  Fiery Passion

  Table of Contents

  Cover Copy

  The Montana Mountain Romance series by Dawn Luedecke

  Dedication

  Glossary

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Teaser Chapter

  About the Author

  FIERY PASSION

  A Montana Mountain Romance

  Dawn Luedecke

  LYRICAL PRESS

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  Lyrical Press books are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2018 by Dawn Luedecke

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund- raising, and educational or institutional use.

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  Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

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  Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.

  First Electronic Edition: September 2018

  eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0345-4

  eISBN-10: 1-5161-0345-9

  First Print Edition: September 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0348-5

  ISBN-10: 1-5161-0348-3

  Printed in the United States of America

  Dedication

  To Taylor Scott, owner of The Missoulian Angler. Thanks for helping me with my research on fish and the Montana rivers. I can’t wait to have you as my river guide when I come back home.

  Glossary

  Bateau—A flat-bottomed boat used to assist the rivermen. Often the men would loosen a log ‘nest’ and then fling themselves into the bateau to avoid being sucked down into the dangerous white water beneath the logs.

  Bib and tucker—Fine clothes

  Big Bug—An important or official person. The boss.

  Blowhard—Braggart, bully.

  Chute—A makeshift sloping channel constructed of special treated wood to get the logs from the forest to the lake.

  Dandy—City person.

  Doxology works—Church

  Faller—The logger actively chopping/sawing down the tree.

  Fisticuffs—Fighting with fists, boxing.

  Flume—An artificial channel, which uses a stream of water in the chute to transport logs.

  Full Turn—Full load

  Greenhorn—An unexperienced person.

  Homeboy—Loggers from the local community.

  Hoosegow—Prison, jail.

  Knock his galley west—Beat senseless.

  Lady of the First Water—Elegant woman.

  Log jam—A crowded mass of logs blocking the river.

  Pugilist—A boxer

  Raft—A group of logs tied together to be taken down the river to the mill.

  River Drive—The movement of the logs from the lumber camp, down the rivers and lakes, and to the mill.

  Riverman—A logger who rides the logs down the rivers and lakes to bring them to the mill.

  River Rat—A riverman who drifts from lumber camp, to lumber camp, working only as long as they want to stay in the area.

  Shindig—A large party. A social event.

  Shin out—Run away.

  Soaked—Drunk

  The Grove—The area where active logging is taking place.

  Timber beast—A logger who works the timber.

  Travois—A type of sled formerly used by North American Indians using two poles joined together, and typically dragged behind an animal.

  Wannigan—A cook raft constructed with a crude building on top. Often the building would contain bunks for the river men to sleep if needed.

  Widowmaker—A dead branch balancing precariously high in a tree, which could fall and kill a man without notice.

  Chapter 1

  Missoula, Montana Territory, Spring 1889

  Wall Adair sat back to enjoy the scene as Victoria Harrison—the new owner of Great Mountain Lumber Mill—tiptoed with her dainty, silk-covered slippers through the ankle-high mud. Somewhere between the train depot and the stockyards, Victoria had parked her expensive buggy. Now she picked her way across a street even he didn’t like to trudge through. The question was why?

  Not that he didn’t enjoy the show.

  In all his years working for the daring woman’s father, and now the woman herself, he’d only met her the year before when she’d visited the camp, thinking herself engaged to Garrett—the old leader of the rivermen known to all as the Devil May Cares. She’d flounced into camp, snubbing all but Garrett.

  Now Wall would return to work and find out just what sort of woman could run the biggest lumber mill this side of the Rocky Mountains. Especially since she couldn’t be much older than twenty-five, at most.

  A viper, no doubt.

  Curious, Wall leapt from his seat on the top rung of the fence just in time to splash mud on her full, dark blue skirt. He cringed, expecting to hear a screech similar to the ones his four sisters gave whenever he offended their wardrobes. Like his pa taught him, he swept his large b
rimmed cowboy hat off his head, and ducked his chin. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine. I needed to clean my dress anyway, and today is washday.” She said the words with a quaver of encouragement, but he didn’t believe it for even a moment. Not when she swiped at it furiously with her gloved hand, only to spread it along the fine fabric. He tipped half his mouth back in a grin at the sight. The top of her shoulders dropped, and she stared at him once more with a frown.

  He smoothed the edge of his hat between the pinched fingers of his left hand. Every time her eyes met his, his stomach flipped like he’d just launched from a log into the deadly white water beneath a log jam. And he hated the listless feeling of falling into the unknown. “Can I help you with something?”

  “I was looking for Garrett.”

  “At the stockyards?” He didn’t bother to hide his shock. Garrett owned the local railroad company, but the train wasn’t due to pick up the traded bulls at the stockyards for another day, and his friend wasn’t always on it. Unless Victoria was shut away in her white tower for the last twenty-something years, she knew the train schedule. Everyone in Missoula did. “Is there something I can help you with?”

  Victoria pursed her lips and flicked her gaze out past the train station building. Wall followed her line of sight, but the only thing he could pick out that the daft woman might possibly stare at was the train depot itself—a few hundred yards away, past sections of muck and the rail lines.

  He propped one muddy foot on the bottom rung of the fence, and leaned on his knee. The Lord hadn’t skimped on materials when he made Victoria Harrison, but she knew as much. With long, dark hair and eyes to match the most delicious chocolate dessert at a fancy table. She possessed beauty, brains, and a bit of sass, which made a woman like her irresistible. Too bad she was the boss, and dead set on being the man of whatever household she graced.

  While one hand grasped a folded piece of paper, she reached up with the second to rub the sapphire stone in the silver necklace she wore, still staring off into the distance. Silence stretched between them until his gut twisted in concern. Not for the venomous woman before him, but because he knew that look. She’d gotten herself in some sort of trouble.

  “Miz Victoria?” he questioned, and let his foot drop to the ground once more, hoping it would be enough to break into whatever thoughts caused her eyes to change from the color of well-oiled leather, to the hue of the filthy mud staining her dress.

  “My apologies.” She glanced around the stockyards with her brows drawn together and lips pinched tight. Whatever caused the wrinkle in her forehead didn’t sit right. She may be a vixen hell-bent on getting her way, but the look in her eyes was like the one his troublemaking sister, Willa, got whenever she needed help. If there was one thing that could get his attention, it was a woman in need. Victoria threw back her shoulders. “Do you know where Garrett might be? There’s a matter of some importance I need his help with.”

  “He and Beth took off up the mountain this morning to offload my steam pulley. He won’t return until tomorrow night. He’s gotta come back to pick up the loader, men, and supplies.”

  Victoria’s shoulders dropped once more, and she glanced back at the spot as if she expected a bull to come charging around the corner.

  Wall took a step closer to her. “What do you need? I can help until Garrett gets back.”

  “No. I’ll be fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” She bowed her head slightly and turned to walk away. He studied the sway of her hips as she picked her way through the muck. The filthy hem of her skirts dragged in the mud like a child who didn’t want to go to Sunday services. Where in the world is she going? Her fancy carriage was parked in the opposite direction from where she walked now, but she’d headed toward whatever spot she’d stared at while they spoke. Wall always listened to his gut, and his gut told him that something wasn’t right.

  “I swear on the Good Book,” he mumbled out loud, “if she’s headed toward something dangerous, I’ll kill her myself.”

  “Who are you going to kill?” He recognized his brother’s voice, and turned as Jax stopped next to him. The youngest of the Adair brood, and only other male in the family besides their father and grandpap, whom they called Pappy. The kid had grown significantly over the last season and now rivaled Wall in height. In another year or two he’d be looking up at his younger brother—who otherwise could have been his mirror image.

  Wall motioned toward where Victoria finally managed to find a dry patch of land to walk on. “My boss lady.” He slapped his brother on the shoulder. “You wouldn’t mind taking care of the bulls, would you? I’ve got something I need to do before we head to the hotel.”

  “Pappy wants to meet us when were finished so we can eat.”

  “I’ll find you at the hotel if I’m done on time. If not, then tell Pappy I had some business to attend to. He should be fine with it unless he wants us to tell Pa he left us to sell the bulls alone while he went and shopped for a new cowboy hat and boots like a woman.”

  “I ain’t telling him that,” his brother said with a frown. “But I will make an excuse for you as long as I don’t have to come bail you out of the hoosegow for murderin’ your boss.”

  “Murder isn’t what I’d like to do with that woman.” Wall gave a half-smile and glanced over his brother’s shoulder to where the bulls they’d driven over that morning stomped restlessly in the holding pen. “Make certain they give you no less than a thousand for the lot. If they try to bulldoze you, then tell them no deal.”

  “But Pa told us not to come home with the bulls. He don’t care how much they give us.”

  “You, me, and Pappy knows that, but the buyers don’t. Keep a hard stare and you’ll get what you asked for. Especially for these bulls.”

  His brother nodded, and Wall rushed past, studying the corner of the building where Victoria had disappeared moments before. His gut told him to hurry. Whatever the woman was into, and no matter how independent she fancied herself, she needed a man.

  Wall rounded the building in time to see the flash of her blue dress swishing into an alley across the street, and his stomach tightened as his blood pumped hard through his veins. What in the Good Lord’s name was she doing?

  He searched the streets, but other than a few passersby oblivious to anyone not in their paths, no one appeared to give one wit about Victoria’s business. Except him. With care to avoid the piles of manure dotting the streets, he followed her into the alley, and slid among the shadows as best he could.

  Halfway down the line of buildings, Victoria stood partially turned away from him as she met with Luther, a man who had been fired from the mill last season. Wall pressed his back against the building to keep out of sight as he picked his way silently down the alley.

  Victoria gasped as if needing extra air, and she crumbled the paper in her hands as Luther scowled and mumbled something low enough only she could hear.

  Wall inched his way closer until Luther’s words were clear enough to understand.

  “If you don’t, Miz Harrison,” Luther said. “I can’t guarantee you’ll make it past this season.”

  Victoria lifted her chin. “I will not be blackmailed by a bunch of vagrants, and I certainly won’t be bulldozed by their half-wit lackey. You can tell your friends that should they set foot near my camps, they will be shot on sight. And believe me when I say, my men don’t miss. They may be a bunch of hardened loggers, but they are crackpot shots.”

  “I know all too well what sort of men you employ up there. I can stop this from happening, but not if you aren’t willing to help yourself. Take the deal.”

  “No.”

  “You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. It’d be best if you were back home worrying about how to find a man too blind to see you’re flaws as a woman.” Luther pressed his hand over his chest with fingers splayed across the fr
ayed shirt fabric. “You’re in over your head. You’re going to fail. I’m just trying to help you out here. I wouldn’t want you to grow old all alone.”

  Victoria opened her mouth to speak and took a step forward.

  “There you are,” Wall said, emerging from the shadow before she had a chance to respond. “I thought the meeting was in the alley behind the bank.” Wall hurried to stand next to her, looped is arm around her waist, and tugged her protectively to his side. He didn’t trust Luther not to hit a woman. The man was no better than a river rat.

  Victoria’s lashes fluttered as she peered up at him. Her lips puckered as though the words had frozen in her mouth, and brown eyes flashed somewhere between shock and gratitude. Lordy she was pretty. Even with her face stuck in a funny expression. Pretty and dangerous, judging by the earful he was going to receive for interfering.

  He smiled down at her, and then turned his attention back to Luther. “I meant to be here before Miz Victoria so I could send you packing with a warning or two to remember.”

  Luther snarled. “You’re not involved in this, Wall, stay out.”

  “Miz Victoria’s safety is of utmost concern to me. I will not stay out of Great Mountain business as long as she’s in danger.”

  “You mean Big Mountain business. It’s the Big Mountain Lumber Mill.” Luther’s face twitched.

  “Us homeboys like to call it Great Mountain ‘cause that’s what it is to the people of Bonner. Great. Great for the town, and great for the lives of the people within.”

  Luther curled his lips back. “You’re all the same, you Devil boys. Sticking your nose where it shouldn’t be, and actin’ like the world belongs to you.”

  “This world does. See, I’m a sort of business partner now, and I believe she gave you her answer. If you ever threaten her, or any other woman at Great Mountain again then you can guarantee I’ll snap every bone in your body before feeding you to the wolf pack that lives near the logging camp.” Wall gave him a smile and tipped his hat before picking up Victoria’s hand and entwining it through his arm to guide her out of the alley, leaving the sniveling little fool to stutter to himself.