The Bartered Bride [Climax, Montana 3] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “Buster and I woke as usual,” she said, making the point Travis was not part of her morning. “I’m up because you need breakfast and I have to earn my keep.”

  Keith stopped with the mug a few inches from his mouth. His blond eyebrows arched as he stared at her.

  “Who told you that?”

  She looked away, uncertain at his harsh voice. “No one told me. It’s just…” She shrugged, then met his eyes. “That’s the way things are. Everything has a cost. You either pay it, or go without. So, I have to be useful. Cooking is part of how I’ll pay my way.”

  He looked at her blankly for a moment, then set down his mug. He straightened and walked over. She had to tilt her head back as he approached. He went down on one knee at her side, and rested a hand on Marmie’s fur. The cat gazed at him, eyes half closed, perfectly content.

  “Marmie’s getting old,” he said. “He doesn’t catch mice anymore. All he does is lie in the sun, eat, demand cuddles, and purr. Is he useless?” Keith shook his head. “No. He brings happiness just by existing.”

  “He’s an old cat. I’m young, and I like to help.”

  “Why?”

  “I spent too much time doing nothing. I enjoyed working hard at the soup kitchen, feeding people who appreciated the little I could do for them. This is a busy ranch, and…I don’t want to leave, Mr. Adams. Not yet.”

  He didn’t say a word, just raised his eyebrows to demand more information.

  “Please, I’ll earn my keep. My college course was in business, and I—”

  “Stop.”

  She instantly obeyed his order, clamping her lips together to stop her babbling. He sighed, ruffling Marmie’s fur. When he said nothing more, she began to relax.

  “You’re a courageous woman, Jane. You make my sons happy, just by being you. You’re the first woman Travis has ever brought home. We want you to stay even if you stretch out on a sofa and eat bonbons all day.”

  Like his sons, he was devastatingly handsome when his lips curled up and his eyes showed warmth. Keith could crush her with one fist, but his touch on the old cat was gentle. She trusted Marmie to tell her when the man became agitated. As long as she could hear a purr, she was safe.

  “Bonbons?” she asked, poking just a little bit of fun at him.

  His lip twitched. “Zarah didn’t go quite that far when she visited that one time. She strolled around with her lip curled in disgust, using a tissue to touch everything so she wouldn’t be contaminated. You ever seen the like?”

  Jane nodded. “Most of the people I grew up with would say your home is quaint, and by that they’d mean old, out of style, and beneath their contempt.”

  “You don’t.”

  “No.” She looked around at the walls needing some plaster and a paint job. They were hung with artwork from a good number of children, along with crafts and the bits and pieces of many generations. Her eyes misted. “This, to me, is a home, full of a family’s love. I grew up in cold opulence. I’ll take messy love over perfection anytime.” She cleared her throat. “I told you last night what it’s like to exist only as an extension of Bertram Stark.” She shuddered, then reminded herself he had no part in her creation. “He determined everything about my life, and he did it for his own purposes.”

  She heard Keith growl, but Marmie’s purr didn’t diminish.

  “It was different in Texas,” she continued. “I could do, eat, and wear what I chose. I was able to make things with my hands. Things I wanted, or that I enjoyed creating for your sons. It’s a wonderful feeling, to be needed. Please, don’t take it away from me.”

  He looked at her, eyes blank, then heaved a sigh. He pushed himself to stand, looking toward the dark window. “What did you do all day growing up, other than school or whatever?”

  “I stayed in my suite with the things that were allowed me.”

  “Dare I ask?” His wry tone revealed how ridiculous it sounded.

  “I had a DVD player and a stack of old movies. I was allowed women’s magazines, such as the decorating ones that gave me ideas for the condo in Port Aransas. Classic books were allowed, all those dreary ones that go on and on in boring detail.”

  “Weren’t you ‘contaminated’ with information when you left your suite?”

  “Even at college, I was escorted to class and then home. There was no time to dawdle and be exposed to subversive elements.” He snorted a laugh, encouraging her . She hunched and looked around as if to ensure they were alone. “Once,” she whispered in pretend shock, “I found a copy of The Economist in a bathroom stall. Oh, my! The things it showed my innocent eyes!”

  When he chuckled his shoulders relaxed. So did she. He picked up his coffee, eyes crinkling, and drank.

  “May I help while I’m here, Mr. Adams? Please?”

  “You can do whatever you like, Jane. And I’m not saying that because Aggie would sulk if I said no.”

  “Thank you, sir!” She moved to stand, forgetting about Marmie. The cat poured off her lap, landing on four paws. After given her an appropriate glare he trotted to the window seat and leaped up.

  “Call me Keith. Or Dad, if you like.”

  Jane’s heart stopped, then pounded. Her throat tightened and tears flowed. A dry sob escaped. She pressed her fingers to her mouth to hold back more.

  “Aw, Jane. Looks like you need your big ol’ dad to give you a hug.”

  Three steps and he enveloped her. She leaned her forehead on his chest, leaking tears. He was the size of Travis, but smelled different. Ivory soap, leather, coffee, and a hint of barn. Like his sons, he held her snug, protecting rather than confining.

  “I never had a dad,” she choked out. “You don’t know how much it means that I’m not related to Bertie Stark.”

  He sighed over her head.

  “He’s no longer part of your world, Jane. Let it go,” he murmured. “All the fears and worry, the shame and inadequacy. They have no place in your life anymore. You can be free of them.” He squeezed her gently. “Part of a dad’s job is to loves his children, unconditionally. I’d like you to think of me as your dad, Jane. You’re a good woman, and you deserve a loving family. No matter what happens between you and my sons.”

  She tilted her head up. “You mean that?” she whispered.

  He leaned back, releasing her enough to see her face. His mock glare made her smile in spite of her tears. Travis and Riley made her feel safe, but Keith projected a security which came from decades of confidence. She looked closer and realized she wasn’t the only one with wet eyes.

  “I know you want to find the one who created you, but as far as I’m concerned, I now have three daughters to love. Florrie, Sophie, and Jane.”

  His staunch declaration started her chin quivering again. She grimaced, fighting sobs. “I’m sorry,” she said, voice shaking.

  Keith pulled her against him again. The slow, steady thud of his warm heart filled her soul.

  “Don’t apologize for happy tears,” he murmured, holding her close. “They come from love, and when love is shared, it grows.” He lowered his head and growled. “And don’t you dare tell anyone I was talking about love. You’ll ruin my fierce reputation.”

  In spite of her tears, a giggle escaped. Jane was sure Aggie wasn’t the least bit frightened of Keith. Just like she wasn’t frightened of Travis or Riley, even when they gave her That Look. Especially when!

  It took a few minutes, but she was finally able to choke out a scratchy thank you. Keith gave her one last squeeze and released her.

  “No, Jane. I should be thanking you for giving me the priceless gift of a new daughter.”

  He went back to his coffee, taking it to the window to look out. She used the space to pull herself together. Her nose would be as red as her eyes, but her heart was so much lighter. She took a deep breath, then another. When she was ready she said something she’d never, ever expected to say, much less feel.

  “Thank you, Dad.”

  He turned, then leaned a hip agains
t the counter and raised his mug in a toast. “You’re welcome.”

  “I’d best get to work,” she said, needing to do something.

  “Don’t you dare.”

  “Excuse me?” She stopped with her had reaching for the apron.

  “In this family women don’t cook breakfast on Sundays.”

  “They don’t?”

  He shook his head. She pulled her hand back.

  “Donny and I take turns making Sunday breakfast. Why don’t you roust that son of mine and get him to take you to the barn. He can show you how to feed the chickens and gather the eggs without being pecked half to death. The best way to wake Travis is to take a bucket of cold water and—”

  “I’m up, Dad.” Heavy feet thumped down the stairs, each one slow and deliberate.

  “Good. Show Jane Aggie’s barn chores.” He raised an eyebrow at his son. “Just the chores. Back here in fifteen.”

  “Spoilsport,” muttered Travis, though she caught a twitch of a smile.

  He padded over to the egg pail Aggie kept by the back corridor while Keith went to the fridge. Jane took Travis’s favorite mug down from the high shelf, fixed it as he liked, and brought it to him as Keith watched.

  “What’s this?” demanded Keith. “Keep that up and next thing you know, he’ll be demanding breakfast in bed!”

  “So?” demanded Travis with a smirk. “Jane likes taking care of me.” He waited until Keith turned away and then patted her bottom, his fingers lingering low on her cheeks. “Let’s go feed some chickens, hon.”

  His touch, and suggestion of more, raised her temperature so much she didn’t bother doing up the thick coat he found for her. She slipped on a pair of big boots and they tromped outside. The sky was lit with the promise of a sunny day. She almost skipped beside him.

  “I hope it’s a kiss you’re eager for, not the chickens,” said Travis.

  “Both,” she replied pertly.

  She started to run. As she’d hoped, he roared and chased her. She giggled, turning to watch him, and tripped in the overly large boots. He dropped the pail and caught her before she hit the ground.

  “I planned to wait until we got in the barn for this,” he said. “But since you asked…”

  She eagerly returned his kiss. Nothing mattered but the heat between them. It had been days since they’d touched like this. It felt like weeks. She was starving, and his kisses filled her like no food ever could.

  A flash of bright lights was followed by a double honk. Travis cursed and turned his back to the approaching vehicle. He helped Jane up. She leaned her forehead against his chest, both of them fighting for air. A black SUV with a gold emblem on the door stopped beside them. A light came on, illuminating a man about six or eight years older than Travis. She recognized Sheriff Gibson from the night before. He gave her a brisk nod out the window.

  “Awful early for you to be all the way out here,” said Travis, scowling.

  “I was up early.” Gibson pulled a notepad off his dash. He flipped through the pages as he spoke. “Got woken an hour ago by a very irate man.” He found the right page. “A Mister Bertram Stark says his daughter’s been kidnapped and is being held for ransom. His sources say one of the perpetrators, one Travis Adams, may have her locked up on this ranch.”

  “Ransom?” demanded Jane.

  “Mr. Stark’s offering a hundred thousand dollars for information leading to the arrest and imprisonment of the men who have been holding his dear daughter captive.” Gibson looked at Jane. “That’s a lot of money to folks around here.” He switched his gaze to Travis. “You got anything to say about this?

  She slipped from Travis’s embrace, unable to think while he held her.

  “Since I have not been held captive, Sheriff, Mr. Stark knows he’ll never have to pay,” she said. “Tell everyone they’ll never see a penny, no matter what he says.”

  “I’ll pass that on,” said the sheriff mildly. “After you two headed upstairs last night, we worked out a few options. Didn’t think Stark would be this quick on the draw, but we’re gathering ammunition. And I don’t mean bullets.”

  “If someone tells that man, or any of his flunkies, where Jane is, I’ll—”

  “You’ll do nothing,” interrupted Gibson. Travis opened his mouth to continue, but the sheriff beat him to it. “Making threats in the presence of a peace officer is not a good idea. Your job is to protect Jane, which means both of you keeping away from any trouble.”

  “No one is going to harm Jane,” said Travis through clenched teeth.

  “Is Keith or Donny making hotcakes this morning?” asked Gibson.

  “Keith,” said Jane.

  “Thank God,” muttered Gibson. He put his SUV into gear. “I’ll wait for you in the house. Don’t be too long.”

  He parked by the kitchen. The porch light came on and Keith emerged. Sheriff Gibson shook the older man’s hand with respect. Keith looked their way. Gibson said something and Keith laughed. The two of them shook their heads as they went inside.

  “Dang,” muttered Travis. “Now we have to get the eggs.”

  “I thought that was what we came out here for.”

  “I had something else planned first,” said Travis. He pulled her tight against his erection. “Now that the sheriff’s gone let’s get back to that kiss.”

  Chapter 36

  “Thank you, sir, but my Pa taught me not to sit when my elders are standing,” said Sheriff Joshua Gibson politely to Keith Adams, “especially when you’re making me breakfast. But I will have another cup of coffee.”

  The older man looked worried, so Josh added a comment he figured would jolt him. He’d found older folks liked having a head of steam so they could put down the younger generation.

  “I hear you’re planning on retiring from ranching, Mr. Adams.”

  Keith shot him a glare, as expected. “Just because I’m over sixty doesn’t mean I’m ready to be put out to pasture!”

  “No, sir. That’s true. I’ll just stand here and wait.”

  “You do that.”

  Keith muttered a few choice words about proving just how much an old man could do. Josh hid a grin as he leaned a shoulder against the wall where he could see out the window. The lovebirds had made it to the barn. He wondered if they’d remember the eggs.

  He let his thoughts wander, not thinking of anything in particular while the back of his mind worried at the situation like a dog with a bone. He was thirty-three, and this was his first major investigation. Climax had always been a law-abiding town, meaning the citizens kept the laws that harmed people. Fighting between friends and practical jokes were common weekend activities. Unless something got out of hand, Josh let them have their fun. That was another tradition dating back a hundred and fifty years.

  Keith poured batter onto a sizzling hot griddle, creating bear paws rather than simple circles. It was those little things that mattered. As a kid he’d taken them for granted, never knowing any different. Then he’d met people who’d had to Dumpster dive to get food before school because their parents didn’t give a damn.

  “Tom come through with anything yet?” asked Keith.

  Josh had seen a light at the diner so had stopped in. Tom had handed him an envelope along with his cheese and bacon muffin. He’d only skimmed the info, but it contained far more than he could have gathered with weeks of work. He didn’t ask how, or where, it came from.

  “Yes, sir, he did. I’ve got an envelope in the cruiser.”

  “And?”

  “And I’ll be briefing everyone after that breakfast you’re cooking.”

  His stomach growled, reminding him he needed to replenish the stash of granola bars that usually filled in for meals when he was working. The muffin had disappeared in three bites an hour ago.

  “Jane made cookies, if you can’t wait for hotcakes,” said Keith. “She’s doing a good job of keeping Arnold full. Donny’s going to gain twenty pounds if he doesn’t keep his fingers out of that pig.”

/>   The ceramic cookie holder was named after a pet pig on the old TV show Green Acres. His granny said she used to watch it because a glamorous actress played the part of a ditzy farm wife and wore clothes more suited to the opera. Considering what Granny liked to wear, he could see the attraction.

  Neither Donny nor Keith, or any other rancher in Tanner’s Ford Valley, would gain twenty pounds that easily. If he was laid up and did nothing but eat, that could happen, but once he got back to doing chores the weight would slide off. There was far more “get ’er done” happening on a working ranch than in the city. The women who admired a cowboy’s muscles had no idea of the decades of dawn to dusk work it took to get, and keep, them.

  He lifted the head off Arnold. Two cookies sat at the bottom. One looked like it had a bite mark in it. Josh mentally rolled his eyes. He remembered doing that as a kid. He’d bite the last cookie so Ty, fourteen months younger, wouldn’t eat it on him. Since Riley wasn’t home, it hadn’t been Travis. Had Donny done it to Keith?

  He took the one that was whole. Peanut butter. His taste buds woke up and cheered.

  “Anything you can tell me about Stark that’s not in that folder?” asked Keith.

  “Yes, sir.” Josh brushed crumbs off his uniform. “He’s wealthy and has two young women he introduces as his daughters, neither of which are named Jane.”

  “Travis said the name Jane suits her. I can see it.” Keith completed flipping his hotcakes.

  Josh returned to his post by the window. He didn’t want to be tempted by the half-eaten cookie. Donny was sure to comment if it was gone.

  Tom’s report stated that Penelope Elizabeth Stark, never called Penny or Liz, was smart but never raised her hand in class. Her professors said she would speak with them directly after class while they were in the lecture theatre, but would not make an appointment to meet. She didn’t write anything controversial in her papers, but had keen insight when she spoke privately. She was kept under constant surveillance, as if her father was concerned for her safety. None of that was secret, or even private, so he had no problem sharing it with the wily older man. Other things he would keep to himself.