by Reece Butler
“One with sharp teeth and claws,” Marci muttered.
Brenda pushed Marci’s cart to the side. “Obviously Max has not been very welcoming. So I’m taking you to lunch with a couple of girlfriends. You’ve spent enough time with Simon. You need some gal talk. My treat.” She held up her hand before Marci could complain. “I’ve got it all worked out. No one will guess who you are.”
Chapter Fifteen
Marci allowed Brenda to haul her away, but her stomach was almost as tight as when the sheriff grilled her. Some of the women Ted told her to befriend would put fighting roosters to shame. They were a tight-knit clique who could slice and dice a foe to ribbons. They made sure she knew she’d never be one of them. Brenda had probably known these friends since they were toddlers. How could she ever fit in?
But Brenda on a mission could not be stopped.
Since the sheriff already knew who she was, Marci didn’t keep her head down as they passed the civic building. She’d avoided looking even though she knew it was childish to think covering your eyes made the boogeyman disappear. Adults knew he waited silently until you thought it was safe to look. Then he attacked.
Enough!
She looked across the street, surprised to see a children’s playground between the two wings of the building. The sheriff’s office and jail were on the left. The unfortunately familiar pickup had its own spot, complete with a sign. From what she could tell, civic offices took up the middle and the right sections.
“That’s the Pioneer Playground,” said Brenda, noticing Marci’s interest. “The nine original Tanner’s Ford families built it and we maintain it as well. The benches were donated in honor of our veterans. Their names are on brass plates along the back. We’re practical people. Statues are nice to look at, but when you’re waiting around for paperwork, benches are more useful.”
“I think it’s a great idea.” She held her hand up to peer closer. “Did someone vandalize them? I see dark marks.”
“Those are brands from all the local ranches. It’s a bit of history for any tourists who stop by. Not that we get many.” Brenda stopped in front of the double doors of the Climax Roadhouse. “You go first.”
It took a minute for Marci’s eyes to adjust. Straight ahead were the washrooms. The door to the right was closed but she could hear country music playing from a jukebox inside. It wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d expected, or as loud. She’d heard about nasal whining and twanging guitars but a smooth male voice sang.
“Doesn’t George Strait have the best voice?”
Marci murmured her agreement as she followed Brenda. She’d never heard of the man, but it did sound nice. They turned left into the diner section. It was bright thanks to the wall of windows next to red vinyl booths with high backs. The walls held old photographs, mostly in black and white. Men rode horses and bulls, or posed with various automobiles or politicians. Women showed off prize-winning cakes, quilts, jams, and jellies. Instead of looking staged or quaint, it felt homey.
Brenda stopped at a booth containing two women. One held a toddler on her lap. The other was very pregnant. Both wore bright blouses, but they were cotton and didn’t have the puffy shoulders she was used to. Marci figured it must take a few years for fashions to get to small Western towns. She’d be happy if she never saw another Miami Vice wanna-be. She’d had it with scruffy beards and white T-shirts worn under a suit coat, though Don Johnson could get away with it.
“Hey, everyone, meet Marci.” Brenda motioned for Marci to get in first. Her grin showed that she was, indeed, doing it so Marci couldn’t escape. “She’s new to town and doesn’t know too many people yet.”
“Hi, Marci. I’m Anne Taylor, and this is my daughter Marsha,” said the one with the child. Both had caps of brown curls and wide smiles. “Don’t worry, we have a rule about no personal questions. But feel free to tell us anything. We’ll keep it to ourselves,” she added.
A waitress in her forties with the name “Dot” on her breast took the orders for iced tea and sodas. She stuck her pencil in her back-combed ’do as she walked away. Only a few hairs around her ears moved. The rest looked shellacked in place. At least she had a good reason for wearing the style. She wouldn’t lose her pencil unless she pushed it too hard and it fell inside the beehive. Marci pulled her attention back to the group when Brenda started talking.
“Doc Meshevski rented a basement apartment from Marci and her husband for a few years while she was at school,” explained Brenda. “They got along so well that when Doc Nikki heard Marci’s home had burned down with everything in it, she insisted on bringing her to Montana to start over. The Doc’s renting that small apartment of Harry’s. It’s not big enough for one, much less two.”
“Oh, Lord, it’s so old I’m surprised the town allowed him to offer it,” said the petite blonde across from Marci. “I remember doing some heavy petting there many years ago. Sorry,” she said to Marci, “I’m Ginny McInnes.” She patted her large belly. “I married the men I was necking with, and they gave me these twins.” She winced, then set the heel of her hand on the upper side of her bump. She pressed down for a moment, and then released. “Oh, that’s better. I swear they’re already wearing cowboy boots like their daddies.” She rubbed another spot. “I wanted girls, but when we went to the city for an ultrasound, it was obvious they were boys.” She rolled her eyes, making it obvious how they knew.
“And neither Sammy nor Grant have stopped boasting yet,” added Anne with a laugh.
Marci had to pull her eyes away from the amazing sight of Ginny’s belly. She’d not seen many pregnant women as Ted’s group tended to be reed-thin. Second wives weren’t expected to produce children. They couldn’t understand her desire for something that would ruin their figure. It was another strike against her. It was different here. She relaxed against the padded booth. These women were more like her. Happy to have children, married to men they cared about, and welcoming to strangers.
“Sorry to interrupt, Brenda,” prompted Ginny. “Doc brought Marci here, and…?”
“And then Simon hauled his cute ass to the clinic with a broken leg. He’s got a cast from his toes up. Can’t bend over or even stand for long. So Doc insisted someone take care of him for a couple of weeks. Since there’s no one else, Marci agreed to stay as his housekeeper.” She made a face. “That is, if she can stand him that long.”
“You lost everything?” asked Anne.
“I was sleeping when I realized the house was on fire,” said Marci. She and Nikki had worked out the story before Nikki spoke to the police. “I ran out the front door. I was halfway across the lawn when something exploded and knocked me out. I found out later that it was the propane tank for the pool heater beside the bedroom window. The fire department said nothing could be saved.”
“You were almost killed!” said Ginny.
“Her husband was,” added Brenda quietly.
“Oh, you poor thing!”
Marci couldn’t lead these women on. If she wanted to live in Climax, she had to start out on the right foot. She felt an ease with these laughing women. They didn’t look down their noses, but warmly accepted her. She’d tell the truth, but only part of it.
“Can I be honest?” she asked. She waited for their nods. “I thought my husband was still at work because he came home late so often. But it turned out he was in the bathroom when the explosion happened. He didn’t get out.” She held up her hand to stop their sounds of sympathy. “Ted was not a nice man, and he was a horrid husband. I’m sorry he died, but I’m not sorry to be a widow.” Brenda took her hand and gave her a squeeze of support. She waited for their condemnation.
“Well, then!” Anne and Ginny exchanged glances. “More power to you.”
Marci let out the breath she’d held. She reached for her glass of soda to soothe her dry throat.
“Amen to that,” added Anne. They all nodded. “You were living in that tiny apartment?”
“Until Friday, when she moved to the MD Con
nected,” said Brenda, jumping in. “And after caring for Simon, she needs some gal time.”
“She needs more than that,” said Anne, eyes sparkling, “but the bar doesn’t open until five.”
Marci found herself laughing along with them. Dot returned and took their orders. The others knew what they wanted, but Marci hadn’t been in a diner before. Ted didn’t approve of such establishments. It was three star, or nothing. She looked around and immediately spotted what she wanted. Her mouth watered.
“I’d like a bacon cheeseburger with fries,” she said. “No onions, please.”
“What do you think of the wallpaper in Simon’s upstairs bathroom?” asked Anne.
“I haven’t been upstairs yet. I’ve been cleaning up the kitchen and…” She looked at the grins her new friends sported.
Brenda leaned forward, grinning at Anne and Ginny. “Do I need to point out there’s only one bed on the main floor?” The other women, laughing, shook their heads. Marci closed her eyes as heat rose to her hairline.
“So, that explains why Marci doesn’t want onions,” teased Anne.
Ginny suddenly gasped. She struggled out of the booth and hurried toward the door with a familiar logo on it.
“Pregnant woman coming through!” called Dot as Ginny rushed past. She brought a high chair for Marsha, who settled in with a fistful of breadsticks and a sippy cup.
“Let’s hope Mr. Dobbs isn’t at the urinal this time,” said Brenda. “He doesn’t like being interrupted once he finally gets going.”
“Is Anne using the men’s room?”
“Not quite,” replied Ginny. “There’s a paper taped to the door that says ‘and pregnant women.’ If the women’s side is full, someone like Ginny can’t wait. Since so few men use the restroom compared to the women, it makes sense for them to share it now and then.”
“Are there that many pregnant women in town?”
“The saloon bar uses the same facilities,” said Brenda. “It gets crowded on a Friday or Saturday night.”
Ginny had just sat down when Dot brought the food. Marci sank her teeth into the burger laden with all sorts of things Ted did not want her eating.
“Oh, this is so good,” she said, groaning in delight.
“If you eat all your lunch, I’ll let you have a sundae for dessert.” Brenda laughed when Marci, mouth full, just rolled her eyes.
Once the first round of hunger was appeased, talk began once more.
“Do you quilt?” asked Anne. “Shortly after she moved here Doc Nikki donated a beautiful crib quilt for a raffle to raise money for the clinic. The name Marci was embroidered in the bottom corner. Was that you?”
Marci winced. “I can’t believe she donated my first attempt. It was horrid. The stitches were all uneven.”
“I won it,” said Anne. “I hate to say this, but Marsha loves it so much she’d take it everywhere if she could. I can’t get the stains out, so it isn’t very beautiful anymore.”
Marci got a sudden image of the sweet little girl holding tight to her quilt as she slept. Tears pricked her eyes. She rolled her lips together, fighting to keep from bawling. Marsha blinked at her with big brown eyes, making her gut tighten even more in want.
“Oh, honey, I shouldn’t have told you about it getting ruined,” said Anne, patting Marci’s hand. “You must’ve put so much work into it.”
“That’s not it,” she replied. “It’s not ruined, it’s being loved. I’m just so happy your little girl has it. I wanted children, but…” She couldn’t go on.
“But that horrid husband of yours didn’t?”
She accepted a tissue from Brenda. All three women waited patiently. She felt acceptance and caring flow between them.
“A few months after we married I found out my husband had a vasectomy.” She dropped her head. “I can’t believe I said that out loud.”
“Honey, you can say anything to us,” said Ginny quietly.
“How long were you married to that creep?” asked Anne.
“Twelve years.”
Anne looked at Ginny. They both looked at Brenda and all three burst into laughter.
“Then you should be able to stand living with Simon for a few weeks,” said Anne. She laughed again and Marci found herself joining them.
“Meet us here for lunch on the first Tuesday next month,” said Anne after they’d calmed down. “We’ll take you to the Tuesday Afternoon Ladies’ Quilting Bee.”
“That sounds pretty formal,” said Marci, hesitantly. “Will the other women want a new member?”
“The men call it the Stitch-and-Bitch Club. Having survived your husband only to work for Simon MacDougal, you’ll fit right in.”
“We’re making a double ring wedding quilt,” said Ginny.
“I love that pattern! Who’s getting married?”
“No one that we know of,” said Brenda, “but one of these days we’ll have a bride in town and she’ll get our quilt. We’ve almost finished it, so when we’re done, we’ll put it away with the one we did last year.”
“We don’t get too many weddings these days,” added Anne. “We’re hoping Doctor Meshevski will find herself a cowboy or two and decide to stay. We women really appreciate having a female doctor for a change.”
“My husbands still drive fifty miles to Dillon,” said Ginny. “I think they’re afraid of showing themselves to an unmarried woman. Maybe if the Doc marries a local guy, they won’t feel so shy.”
“There’s always hope,” said Brenda with a sly smile. “I’ve got someone in mind.”
“You do?” asked Marci.
“Guess who should be arriving back in town, ladies?” Brenda leaned forward, dropping her voice. “He’s tall, he’s gorgeous, he’s sexy, and he’s eager for a statuesque woman.”
“Eric Frost?” blurted Anne.
Brenda lifted her glass of ice tea. Her smile reminded Marci of a documentary on barracudas. “Got it in one.”
Chapter Sixteen
The ringing of the telephone woke Simon from an erotic dream about Marci. He had two good legs and was using them both. She had her legs wrapped around him as he held her ass in his hands and plunged deep. The shower had somehow grown to the size of a mini car wash, so there was lots of room. Where that had come from, he had no idea.
He cursed and struggled, trying to get to his feet. The room was dim, which surprised the heck out of him. He’d only closed his eyes for a moment. The ringing stopped when he was balanced on one foot, just reaching for his crutches. Did he keep going, or collapse? The clock caught his eye. He’d slept for over four hours? Dang it, he was forty, not an old geezer snoozing the afternoon away! He grabbed the crutches and set them under his armpits.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” said a brisk female voice. Marci was back, leaning in the doorway. Suddenly everything was a bit less grim. “Your brother’s on the phone.”
“Lance?”
She nodded. “If he’s as sexy as his voice suggests, I want to meet him.”
A twinge of annoyance struck Simon at her predatory smile but it faded quickly. Depending on the circumstance, such as what he wanted and how badly, Lance could use both charm and his very commanding presence to get things done. Most people did what he wanted, as he was usually reasonable in his demands. If not, he got physical with the men. If the issue was over a chore he’d strong-arm them into doing what was needed. If they were threatening others and refused to back off, he’d wade in with his fists, pulling out a knife or three if necessary.
Lance could get physical with obstinate women, but in a quite different way. If Marci tried to out-stubborn Lance she might end up across his lap with her panties down. Simon chuckled to himself at the thought. He wasn’t the type to discipline his woman like that but he’d sure enjoy watching Lance doing it to Marci. She’d fight like a wildcat but he bet she’d enjoy it. And he’d enjoy soothing her afterwards.
Still smiling, he got his crutches started and headed for the kitchen. His brother never
phoned unless there was something important. He hadn’t felt anything from Lance to make him worried. Just—oh, hell. Of course. Lance was the one who would’ve felt something. But was it the pain of the broken leg that had him calling, or what he and Marci had been doing?
He went to stand by the phone as usual, but Marci had arranged a chair with a cushion for him to sit on and another for his leg. He wouldn’t be on the phone long, but he appreciated her thoughtfulness. He would never admit it to that grouchy doctor, but he didn’t know how he’d get along without Marci until he got his cast off.
“Yeah?” he asked, putting a fair bit of grunt into it. Lance’s dry chuckle filled his ear.
“Felt you get a boo-boo yesterday,” said Lance. “But you sure made up for it. Got a tingle that said you had a few happy times. That have anything to do with the sweet lady who answered the phone? And what were you doing in bed in the middle of the afternoon, alone?”
Simon looked at Marci. She had her back to him and was stirring something in a bowl. Her hand was going fast which made that sweet ass of hers jiggle enticingly.
“Did something to my leg and the damn doctor put a cast on the whole thing. Said I couldn’t be home alone.”
Marci’s back stiffened. Likely the Doc was a friend. How else would she know about Marci needing a place?
“You busted your whole leg? It didn’t feel like it from this end.” Lance both asked the question and scoffed that Simon would be that stupid.
“Nah, I did something, but when I got to the clinic, Brenda Gibson, I mean Anderson, was on duty. She cut off my best boot and made them put a cast on me from my toes to my balls!”
Simon held the phone away from his ear so Lance’s bellow of laughter wouldn’t make him go deaf.
“Did she give you a shot in the ass, too? That woman’s been waiting a long time to get you back.”
Brenda wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened, but Lance was a whole ’nother thing. He’d have a good laugh getting back at Simon for past transgressions.