The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  “What! They had the nerve to tell you that?”

  Her disgust of his parents on his part warmed a small part of his heart. He opened the door to the past just a little bit more.

  “I pushed past and went upstairs to my room. Dust lay on every surface, as if no one had bothered to come in. I changed into work clothes I’d left in the closet, and came downstairs. Dad looked up when I rummaged in the fridge and made myself a sandwich, but he didn’t dare say a damn thing.

  “Chores took me twice as long because they hadn’t been done well. When I came in, there was a bowl of stew on the table, ready for the microwave. The room was empty, except for the cat.”

  “Was she glad to see you?”

  “Since I had a few pieces of beef gristle for her, yeah.”

  The reminder of gristle summed up his childhood well. If his mother had been able to, she’d have served the beef in the stew to Fergus and his father, made sure he got gristle, and Lance would be lucky to get a few woody root vegetables in thin gravy.

  “Was Fergus drafted?”

  “No, he wanted to go. I overheard him talking to his buddies about getting away for an adventure while Mom and Dad were still young enough to cope. He’d do his duty and return home a hero, marry a good woman, have kids, and live the life he’d always known would be his.”

  “Only it didn’t happen.”

  “Nope. He died, and my parents followed him not too long after.”

  “And your dream of studying history went poof.”

  “Water under the bridge. No one knew except Lance.”

  “Oh, Simon.” She put her arms around his neck and hugged him. “No wonder you want to read those diaries.”

  “That dream was long ago,” he said, sloughing it off. “Now I couldn’t imagine living anywhere else.” He gestured around the room. “This is a living museum and I use artifacts every day. Once I skim through those diaries, I’ll know even more.”

  “You could write a book about the history of Tanner’s Ford. No one else has your knowledge or training.” She beamed at him, as if he could wave his hand and make it so.

  “Maybe someday. It would take a lot of work and I doubt anyone other than a few local history buffs would be interested.”

  “It’s just an idea,” she said. “What did you do when they died?”

  “I’m a cowboy. I put on my boots, saddled my horse, and went back to work. Been doing it ever since. I could never do as well as Fergus, but I get by.”

  Her head came up. “Get by? Simon, this is a wonderful ranch!”

  “Spoken by a city gal with rose-colored glasses. No, Marci. All I did was keep doing what my father, his father, and so on, have done. No matter how they treated me and Lance, I loved my brother and my parents, but the pain fades over time. So will yours.”

  “But…I…didn’t…”

  “I realize you didn’t love your husband. I mean the pain of knowing you’d given yourself to someone like that when you could have had a better life. He was a monster, but he’s gone.” He gently kissed her forehead as if she was Sophie. “And you’ve got the rest of your life ahead of you.” He pulled her close again and rocked slightly, just holding her.

  Hopefully, that life would be with him.

  Children needed to know they were safe and protected. But so did adults. Men weren’t supposed to show that need, but they could find ways to receive it. Having Marci accept his comforting made him feel as much a man as if he’d chopped down trees to build this cabin. He savored the feeling. After a while she pushed back his arms. He released her but she still snuggled close. They sat there for a few moments. He felt her tension, from her rapid heartbeat to the way she held herself rigid.

  “There’s more to the story,” she said quietly. “Ted tried to kill me.”

  He wrapped his arms around her, unable to not touch.

  “If he wasn’t already dead, I’d take the bastard apart with my own hands.” She patted his chest and relaxed, just a little.

  “I found out later he’d been denied a huge promotion. They realized he was a power-hungry bully who only did what would make him look good. Of course, Ted believed it was my fault he’d never be a vice president. I’d been standing up for myself for a while by then. I guess in his sick mind if I died, he’d get the promotion. He cared so much about what others thought.” She drew a pattern on his skin with a finger.

  He kept silent, waiting for more. He wanted to know, but it was more important for Marci to feel comfortable enough to tell him. So, he waited.

  “I was asleep,” she finally whispered. “I dreamed of smelling gas, and woke. When I opened the bedroom door, he was there. I thought he’d come to get me out. I’ve never seen him show real emotion so I wasn’t surprised he was calm. I told him I smelled gas. He shoved me into the room and slammed the door. I told him we had to get out but he shook his head. I fought to get past him and out the door.”

  She inhaled, her breath shuddering.

  “All those self-defense courses I took came in handy when he pulled a knife. He said he’d slit my throat and there’d be a fire. I’d burn and no one would ever know he had anything to do with it. When he attacked, I grabbed his hand. He was so surprised that he relaxed his grip. The knife grazed my cheek instead of slicing my neck.”

  She pressed her hand against the scar. He gently moved it away and kissed her. He didn’t care what she looked like. She was his woman. It was her heart that he wanted. Her beauty was an extra.

  “And that’s when you escaped?”

  She shook her head. “Ted was compulsive about germs. He never wanted anyone to touch him, in any way. When my blood spattered on him he screamed, dropped the knife, and ran to the bathroom. The door wasn’t hung right and I had a doorstop to keep it open. I slammed it shut and jammed the doorstop under it so he couldn’t get out.”

  “Smart move,” he murmured.

  “I hauled open the bedroom door and ran out the front. I was halfway across the lawn when there was a blast. I was knocked out. When I came to, the whole house was in flames. I lay there and watched my home, and everything in it, burn to the ground.”

  “You were lucky to get out alive.” And he was so lucky that she did. “It wasn’t by chance that something blew up, was it?”

  “The fire department said the propane tank for the outdoor kitchen must have been leaking. The men at the office told the police that Ted had invited them all to a party to celebrate his promotion. I wasn’t allowed to touch his barbeque, so didn’t know anything about using it. They think he must have done something wrong when he did whatever you do after winter.”

  “What did you tell them?

  She drew small circles on his skin with her finger.

  “That I woke up smelling gas. I knew not to turn on a light, and thinking Ted was out celebrating his promotion, I ran out the front door. The next thing I knew, a fireman was wrapping me in a blanket as my house burned.”

  “What about your face? They’d know it was made with a knife.”

  “I said I didn’t know, that everything from running from my bedroom, to seeing the flames, was blank. They decided it could have been a shard of glass from the front window exploding. I had pieces all around me in the grass.” Her fingers tightened on his skin. “Nikki said Ted deserved to die, but even though I only tried to protect myself, if I said anything, I might go to prison for killing him.”

  “They’d have to prove you had a reason.”

  She looked away. “They said I wanted his money. They found out he didn’t treat me very well, and suggested I wanted to get rid of him.”

  “Did you?”

  “Ted told me what I wanted to hear to get me to marry him, that he loved me and would take care of me. Nikki had finished a psychology course and said he was a manipulative narcissist, but I wanted to believe him. I can’t blame him for being who he was when I refused to see through his lies.”

  “You were what, seventeen when you met?”

  She
squared her shoulders. “When I make a vow, I keep it.”

  “Wouldn’t any wife who devoted herself to her husband, and, therefore, had no paycheck, want insurance money to start over? You’d just lost your home.”

  “I didn’t grow up with all this,” she said, waving her hand around the room. “Me, Nikki, and Mom lived in a trailer. Not even a double-wide. We were poor, but proud. I kept that rusty thing as clean as possible. It was my only real home. Ted’s house was big, but it was sterile. No emotion was allowed in those walls. It was never my home, just a place I was responsible for cleaning.”

  A lot of emotion had filled Simon’s home. Little of it was positive, though. His mother’s screaming rages at her twins not doing their assigned chores well enough would be followed by tears of joy as Fergus proudly produced a barely passing report card. Their father’s faint praise for his and Lance’s top marks didn’t make up for their mother’s scorn.

  “My mother refused to have sex with my father until he proposed to her. A ring on her finger meant wedding bells to her. But he disappeared four months later when she told him she was pregnant. Something like that happened with Nikki as well. Neither of our fathers held to their word. So when I make a vow, I stick to it. That’s why I wouldn’t divorce him. Not that I didn’t think of it, often.” She grabbed her braid and played with the tip. “Nikki said the police see so many nasty people, they’d never believe me.”

  Simon knew with every bone in his body that Marci would never harm someone on purpose. That wasn’t proof, however.

  “If the propane tank hadn’t exploded, Ted would have gotten out alive,” said Simon. “You would have charged him with assault and gotten your divorce. Ted’s death was an accident. One he brought upon himself by trying to kill you.” He kissed her head. “It’s over. You’re here, and if they had any reason to detain you, they would have.”

  Marci flicked his shirt with her hair. He gritted his teeth at the sensation, unwilling to interrupt her. “I told my lawyer not to tell anyone I’m here.”

  “Then you’re safe.”

  She shook her head. “Sheriff Gibson took me out of the store to make sure I wasn’t stealing from you. I was shaking so hard I could barely walk, and he knew it. I’m scared he’s going to find out why. I don’t want to go to prison.”

  Police and historians liked to find answers to puzzles. A man dying in his own bathroom when his wife escaped after smelling gas, didn’t make sense. Ted was a businessman. He’d have had insurance on that big house, and its contents. Simon wouldn’t put it past the bastard to put a large policy on Marci, hoping to cash in on her death. But Marci was right. If there was any hint of foul play, the insurance company would jump on it. The sleazier ones would hound her, encouraging the police to find her guilty so they wouldn’t have to pay.

  “The doorstop would have burned, destroying any evidence as to why Ted didn’t get out,” said Simon. He hugged her. “I knew you were smart and could think fast. That proves it.”

  “I didn’t think, just reacted,” she said in a small voice.

  He lifted her chin to look at him. She reluctantly raised her eyes.

  “You did what you had to do,” he said. “You survived, and he didn’t. It’s over. Right?”

  She hesitated before reluctantly nodding.

  “Thank you for telling me, Marci. I don’t want secrets between us. Both of us have done things that, looking back, we might have done differently. But they made us who we are today.” He looked at her red, puffy eyes and swollen nose. Her lips were thick from her nervous teeth biting. “You are a beautiful woman, Marci Meshevski. I would like to lie down and just hold you for a while.”

  She exhaled, shuddering from her release of tension and tears. She nodded and climbed off his lap. He took her hand and led her, slowly due to his cast, to the bed. He lay down and opened his arms. She snuggled up, head on his shoulder, and sighed as if the world had been lifted from her small shoulders. He held her as she slowly relaxed into sleep.

  This was what life was all about. The ranch was important, and keeping it going was his life’s work. But having a woman like Marci in his arms, trusting him, made everything worth it. He’d thought she could be a convenience, someone who could cook, and clean, and provide sex as well as MacDougal sons. But though he wanted a son to keep the ranch going, he’d take Marci over a piece of land, no matter the heritage.

  “I will protect you with my dying breath,” he whispered. “I love you. But the question is, can you love me, and Lance, and Montana small-town ranch life?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Marci slowly woke, feeling contented and warm. A hint of something dark tinged the edges of her cocoon but she was used to that. She stretched, realizing she was still dressed though she’d fallen asleep on Simon’s chest. That was something new. They’d slept in a bed without having sex. It must mean something, but she wasn’t sure what.

  She’d told Simon about killing Ted and ended up blubbering all over him. His reaction to it, wanting to hold her while she fell asleep, astounded her. Before Simon, she hadn’t met a man she could trust. Her grandfather threw her mother out when she became pregnant. Nikki’s father and her own were both lying scumbags who enjoyed using innocent women. And then there was Ted. Scumbag supreme.

  She’d told Simon she thought it was over. She couldn’t tell him about the phone call, or the letter. Maybe they wanted to contact her with good news. And maybe scheming J.R. Ewing would do something nice without expecting payback. No, she couldn’t tell Simon that someone was after her.

  She didn’t understand a man like Simon. He was new territory, which meant she had to tread carefully. She’d told him almost everything. The last bit shouldn’t matter. She’d open that letter as soon as she got it, and was alone. And then…and then she’d deal with whatever it said. Maybe it contained a “get out of jail free” card. Or maybe it said “Go to jail. Go directly to jail.” She pushed the morbid thoughts away.

  Simon seemed honest and open with her. Too open sometimes, considering what he read out to her from his very energetic ancestors’ journals. Marci could easily figure out the physics of enjoying two men at once. But three? Nuh-uh. Not happening. Though the thought of two, Simon and his mysterious twin, had her pussy purring.

  Until she met Simon, she hadn’t known her pussy worked, much less that it could purr. Thanks to Ted, she thought she was frigid, unable to appreciate a man, or his body. Ted, however, was not a man. He was a selfish, spoiled child in a male body who convinced a naïve young woman that he was as close to perfect as she was likely to get.

  Thanks to Simon’s wicked tongue, fingers, and cock, she’d realized what she’d been missing all her life. If she’d known what pleasure, no ecstasy, that great sex could bring, she might have killed Ted on purpose that night.

  But she hadn’t known, and had done nothing but protect herself. If asked in a court of law, she would have to agree that Ted might have escaped if she hadn’t jammed that rubber doorstop so hard.

  Simon said no one would think of charging her. But she had not told him was why she was so worried. He was a man, well known in the community, his family well established. He’d know judges, sheriffs, and likely the entire jury.

  She was a nobody. Yes, her sister was the town doctor, but that might not mean diddly. She’d seen an innocent woman sent to jail for premeditated murder. Her ex-husband said he still owned her, and her body. Nikki and Marci would huddle, hating the screams and thumps from the next trailer. In the morning she’d shuffle out, walking as if everything hurt. He knew better than to bruise her where it would show.

  She couldn’t call the police because he was one of them. She’d tried, and that had brought a worse beating. Marci heard that he’d said he was “just keeping the little woman in line.” It went on for months. Looking back, Marci realized by the woman’s stiff walk that he hadn’t stopped with plain rape. He’d raped her every way possible.

  After one too many times the neighbo
r had bought a gun. The next time her ex showed up, she shot him. Nikki told Marci, then sixteen, to tell the police she never heard anything in the trailer next door at night, except the shot the night the police officer was murdered. Anything else would cause her to be chosen as the main entertainment at the next private party the local men in power held deep in the woods. Even if she survived physically, she’d never get over the gang rapes.

  Her neighbor was sentenced to life in prison without parole for killing a police officer. Marci had been terrified of the police and entire legal system ever since. Max Gibson did not seem the type of man who did such things. But she had no faith in the legal system for someone who was poor, uneducated, and female. She wasn’t uneducated, not compared to her old neighbor, but she certainly didn’t know the law, and had no money for a decent lawyer.

  The loud ring of the telephone made her jerk. She threw back the covers, then heard Simon’s step-thump in the kitchen. She waited on the edge of the bed for him to call her, hoping it wasn’t the man after her. No, it wouldn’t be. She made herself settle back again. Brenda had warned her that now Simon had the half cast, he’d need to prove to himself that he was still a man. Marci was to let him do as much as he wanted, but to keep an eye on him. Answering the phone was something he could do.

  “Hey, brother,” said Simon. “I figured you’d call.”

  Her exhale of relief was quickly followed by confusion. Who answered the phone like that? Simon couldn’t know who was at the other end. Unless it one of those twin things?

  “Yeah, it’s the forever kind. Like Great-Granny Elliott.”

  She heard a chair scrape across the floor. The thump would be Simon landing on it. She didn’t want to listen in, but he’d heard everything she said to her sister, so this was fair. Plus, she might learn something about Lance or Simon, or what they thought of her. Heat rose from her chest. After what she’d done with that mocha frosting, who knew what they’d say about her?

  “But that bolt of lightning hit an hour ago. I figured you would’ve called by now.” Simon sounded cross. “You waited days until you called about my broken leg.” He listened for a moment, then laughed. “Yeah, a broken leg’s nothing. Falling in love, that’s pretty big. Good thing you didn’t drive off the road when you felt it.”