The Climax Montana Complete Collection

by Reece Butler

  Lance, while still working her bottom, reached around to pinch her nipples. The spark set off a conflagration. She screamed and bucked, slamming back on whatever she could find to fill her, to drive her even higher. The rushing in her ears was so loud she could barely hear the guttural roars as two men erupted deep inside her body. It set her off again, and she exploded into stars before everything went black.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Lance left a note saying he would meet them at the diner and left the cabin before the sun came up. He might be late for breakfast but he needed to visit the man he considered his grandfather, as his own had died many years earlier.

  He followed an invisible trail and reached the camp with the sky lightened, but the sun not yet past the mountains. When he got out of the truck, Daniel George used his own tin mug to point at the extra one resting on a flat rock by the fire. The tea, of dried herbs and berries, was still hot. A disk of pressed dried berries was placed on another rock. Raven, riding his shoulder, landed in front of the old man and bobbed his head in thanks. Only then did he crow-hop over to the disk and begin pecking.

  Lance couldn’t explain how Grandfather knew to make extra tea or put out the treat. Just as he couldn’t explain how he found the gulch where the old man had camped. It just was. He’d learned to accept such gifts. They drank their tea as the sun rose to bless a new day.

  “You have found a good woman,” said Daniel after a suitable amount of time had passed. “The child she carries will walk a hard path. Love him hard, as he will die a warrior far away, doing great deeds.”

  A son! A rush of love welled up for the unborn spirit he’d glimpsed in Marci. Love, and pain that the child’s light would be sniffed out early. No, not early. In the fullness of time. Some lives seem short to those who are unaware, yet are full and complete to the souls experiencing them.

  “She is strong.” His dark eyes crinkled. “She will help you grow.”

  Lance groaned, more for Grandfather’s sake than anything. Nothing grew without effort. He was being warned that there would be difficult times, but if he persevered, he would be a better man for it. Joy had little value without pain to balance it.

  “Thank you, Grandfather,” he said in their language. “I will honor the journey.”

  They sat, being with the world.

  When it felt right, Lance placed the gift of herbs he’d gathered in Texas. Raven gave it a look-see, decided it wasn’t edible, and went back to finding the last crumbs. He turned the mug upside down and placed it back on the rock. They exchanged nods before Lance rose to leave.

  “The twins will be good for the land.”

  He turned back at the soft words. “Twins?”

  “Your woman will have three sons. The first will not give you grandchildren. The others will.” Daniel George’s face became a map of wrinkles when he smiled. “I will enjoy her food and laughter. She is worried, but it is her fear holding her back. Her gift to you will be her trust.”

  “She is called Marci Meshevski, sister to Nikki, the doctor.”

  “It is good to have a doctor in the family.”

  Raven beat him to the truck, flying in the open window to perch on the stick he’d attached to the seat. Lance’s stomach rumbled. Raven fluffed out his feathers and began to preen after his meal.

  “You ate the whole thing and didn’t even offer to share. See if I save you any meat from my breakfast.”

  * * * *

  “Did Simon get down on one knee to propose?” asked Nikki.

  Simon waited for Marci’s answer.

  “No,” she replied, drawing the word out, “but he made up for it rather quickly.”

  “How?”

  Marci looked around the diner, and lowered her voice. “He’s male. How do you think?” The two women shared a sisterly look and burst into laughter.

  “Don’t be telling tales, now,” Simon warned Marci.

  “Only to my sister,” she replied. “And only the good stuff.”

  Lance, sitting beside Nikki on the outside of the booth, turned his head. “When I’m with you, it’s all good stuff.”

  Marci rolled her eyes at her sister. “We’ll talk later, when there’s no ears to interrupt.”

  Simon, across from Lance, patted her thigh. Heads had swiveled when the four of them walked in. That morning when Marci was wondering if it was too early to phone Nikki, Simon had explained they’d arranged last night to meet for breakfast.

  Calls of welcome were directed to Lance, Nikki, and himself. Marci got curious glances as she was new to Climax. Most of the people who’d been at the Roadhouse were not early breakfast types. There weren’t any other Valley ranchers in the diner. Even more rumors would fly as soon as someone got on the telephone or stopped by the post office. Lance and Simon had decided to stop false rumors in their tracks by telling the truth straight up. As planned, they’d placed their orders with Dot first. Lance looked over and quirked an eyebrow. Simon nodded, confirming the plan. They rose to their feet in the space between the booth and the window. The buzz of conversation faded.

  “I think you all know Doctor Nikki Meshevski,” said Lance. She waved.

  “What you don’t know is that she has a sister, Marci,” said Lance. Marci had braided her hair, pulling it off her face. It made her scar easy to see. She raised her chin and nodded at those who seemed friendly.

  “Marci came here to be with her sister after she lost everything in a fire,” said Lance. “She came close to losing her life, as well. Before you young bucks get any ideas, she’s ours.”

  “You having a wedding?” asked old Miss Tanner. She’d taught everyone in town their ABCs but had retired years back.

  “Yes, ma’am,” answered Simon. She gave him the same look she used when he came in after recess all scuffed up from fighting.

  “My question was directed at the ladies.” Miss Tanner managed to give both men a reproving glare while smiling at the women.

  “We haven’t had a chance to talk about a wedding, Miss Tanner,” said Nikki. “Simon just proposed to my sister last night.”

  A young cowboy, one who’d come in from another county during spring roundup, laughed. “The way the lady’s blushing, I expect he did more than that!”

  Nikki turned her doctor look on the heckler. “Are you suggesting something rude? If so, you may wish to leave before someone feels the need to step in and protect my sister’s honor.”

  The guy blanched. “No, ma’am! I mean, Doc. I was just joshing.”

  Lance looked around the room. Simon could feel his brother’s devilment bubbling up. It didn’t happen often, but when it did, no one could stop him.

  Lance stepped away from the booth and held out his hand to Marci. She shrank back, shaking her head. He tilted his head just a fraction and curled the tips of his fingers. She muttered something Simon didn’t catch, cleared her throat, and slid out of the booth. Lance rested his hand on her waist.

  “As you can see, my fiancé is a petite woman. But don’t underestimate her. She was woken from a sound sleep to the smell of gas. She ran out the front door just before a propane tank exploded beside her bedroom. There was nothing left of the home but ashes.”

  One by one, he met every eye in the place.

  “Marci has what it takes to be one of us. I expect her to be welcomed with Climax County hospitality.”

  “Climb down from your high horse, boy. The lady can stand up for herself.”

  Mr. Clarence, one of their father’s old poker-playing buddies, was one of the few who would stand up to Lance and give him a poke.

  “You’re right,” said Marci.

  Simon got a flash of the same devilment he saw in Lance before she climbed onto the booth’s seat. Lance held up his hand to steady her, but she leaned into him and brought her mouth down for a kiss. Lance wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the bench.

  Not only were their lips lined up now, he was in control. Marci might have started that kiss, but he had upp
ed the ante.

  The tinkle of a bell pulled Simon’s attention away from the display in front of him. Sheriff Max Gibson pulled off his sunglasses and took in the whole scene. Marci, red-faced, pulled back from Lance. He didn’t let her get far. She seemed to be trembling.

  “These two are making a public spectacle of themselves,” huffed Miss Tanner. “I think you should arrest them.”

  “Thank you for the suggestion, Miss Tanner.” Max eyed Marci. “You hear that, ma’am?”

  “Yes, sir,” said Marci respectfully.

  She tried to shrink away, but Lance wasn’t having any of it. Simon could hear the fear in her quiet voice. Life was going to be complicated if she shrank away every time she saw the law. Max was one of his poker-playing buddies, and they had a session set up for the following week. It was going to be at the ranch and it would be difficult if Marci felt she had to hide. He’d hoped she’d wow them with some of her cooking.

  Max nodded at Lance. “Looks like you had a busy night. Busy morning as well.” Max added an eyebrow flick to the droll tone. “Now that you’ve proven the lady is no longer available, I expect you to keep to the standards of Climax County.”

  “Well gosh, Sheriff,” complained Simon, adding a grin to prove he knew he was pushing, “I was hoping to follow Tanner’s Ford standards.”

  Max Gibson’s barely seen wink showed he knew they were playing to an audience.

  “Spanking women on the main street went out with the horse and buggy generation,” said Max.

  “And that’s a dang shame,” added Mr. Clarence.

  Max put his sunglasses back on. He shifted his feet and suddenly turned from friend into The Law. He looked at Marci, now peering from behind Lance.

  “I’d appreciate it if you’d drop by my office after breakfast, Miss Meshevski,” he said. “You need to sign that new drivers’ license.”

  Marci’s fingers tightened on Lance’s arm. She nodded, eyes down.

  “We’ll be there, Sheriff,” said Lance.

  After tipping his hat to the women, Max left the diner. Marci slumped into the booth, all her sparkle gone.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  “You could have this all wrong.”

  Marci, unable to talk through her tight throat, shook her head at Nikki. Her sister had hauled her into the bathroom right after Max left. Cheerful cats wearing cowboy hats, bandanas and boots roped mice all around the room. Ginny told her the men’s room had dogs roping calves. Neither made her feel any better.

  “Max doesn’t lie. He must have your new license.”

  Marci pressed the wet paper towels against her eyes. “But what else does he have. You saw his face go cold when he put those mirrored sunglasses back on. He’s just like the cops back East.”

  “But your license—”

  “Oh, I’m sure he has my license waiting,” said Marci bitterly. “What better reason to get me in there without letting on his real purpose.” She ran more cold water over the scratchy brown paper and pressed it against her sore eyeballs. “The wedding’s off. I can’t go through with it. I told them this would happen!”

  Nikki took the towels from her and tossed them in the trash. She took Marci into her arms.

  “Lance and Simon will help, and I’ve got money put away.” Nikki squeezed her, just like she used to when they were small. “I’d rather have you than money in the bank.”

  “The ranch is already deep in debt. I can’t ask them to help.”

  “Gal time’s up,” said a male voice outside the door. It was immediately followed by a harsh rapping. “Open the door.”

  “Go away!” yelled Marci. It sounded like Simon, but at this point she didn’t want to see any male.

  “Not happening. Open the door.”

  “No!”

  “I think that’s Lance,” said Nikki. “And he sounds angry.”

  “Too bad.” Marci slumped against the counter. She stuck her chin out. “He can wait until I’m good and ready.”

  “Open the door, Doctor Meshevski.”

  “Don’t!” squealed Marci.

  Nikki shook her head. “Sorry, but as the town doctor I have to set an example.

  Marci stared at Nikki. She looked around the tiny room. Four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. And one door. No window, no other way out. She snorted a laugh, then shook her head at the ridiculousness of it. There was no lock on the door. At least, not from the inside. Lance could walk in anytime he wanted. But he wouldn’t go in because there was an outline of a female figure on the door.

  “It’s okay, Nik. I have to leave sometime. Open the door. At least I’m not the one giving in.”

  Nikki shot her a grateful look. She stepped close to the door, took a deep breath, and opened it.

  Two upset men, Lance and Simon, blocked the doorway. They parted to let Nikki through, then filled the space again.

  “I’m scared,” Marci whispered. She wrapped her arms around herself.

  “Do you doubt us already?” asked Lance gently. Neither he nor Simon came closer.

  “I just…when the sheriff looked at me…I…”

  Lance growled. Before she could gasp, he was pulling her tight against him.

  “You’re so cold,” he murmured. “Let me warm you up.”

  Simon shut the door and pressed in behind her. There was barely enough room in front of the sink for the three of them.

  “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together,” said Simon. “We can’t sell the ranch, but there’s nothing stopping us from selling all sorts of antiques.”

  “I can’t let you sell your things,” she protested, trying to push away.

  “They’re only things, Marci,” replied Simon. His warm breath stole down her neck. “I’d do far more to keep you out of jail.”

  “Nothing’s going to be sold, and no one’s going to jail,” said Lance. He lifted her face to meet his. “Let’s go find out what Max wants. None of us will be able to eat until we know.”

  Five minutes later Marci carefully set her foot on the first step leading to jail. It was actually just the steps to the Sherriff’s office, and many people took the shortcut to get forms from the County Clerk, but to Marci, it was the beginning of the end. She could already hear the harsh clanging of cell doors shutting behind her. She loved to create food for the senses, using color and shape, and flavor. But from now on all she’d have was bland, mushy meals that never changed.

  She could see it already. Mashed potatoes from a box mixed with water rather than milk. A piece of overcooks cauliflower to one side and in the center, a small square of poached fish. White, white, and white, to match the chipped crockery plates.

  Or did they use stainless steel? She knew so little about prison, other than it was second only to being burned to death in her list of top three nightmares. Losing Nikki was next. Or, at least, it used to be. She’d have to make room for the men escorting her.

  With Simon on one side and Lance on the other, she should have felt safe. But friends and relatives, even husbands, could not protect her from The Law. Ever since learning of her neighbor’s life sentence, she’d thought of those words in capital letters.

  Nikki had wanted to come as well, but Marci wanted to keep her sister out of any trouble. She’d suggested Nikki drop by after breakfast if they hadn’t returned. Nikki had fretted, but agreed.

  Simon released Marci’s arm to run up the steps and open the wide wooden door for her. It didn’t creak as she’d expected. She squeezed Lance’s hand one last time and pushed him away. She would do this on her own. Yes, she’d agreed to marry them, but only if she could walk down those steps cleared of all suspicion.

  With head high and shoulders back, she strode into the small foyer of the Climax Police Station. It was an anticlimax as she realized the space served to break the wind and weather in the winter. Lance opened the next door and she finally stepped through into the office.

  Two battered wooden desks were in front, papers stacked neatly in wood boxes and
a roller chair behind each. One had a well-bashed-up typewriter on it. A switchboard was to her right, the chair in front of it also empty. An office with a closed door. But what made her open her eyes wide was the color. Yes, the walls were institution gray and the furniture boring brown wood, but pink, yellow, mauve, and blue bunnies and chicks seemed to be everywhere.

  One fuzzy yellow chick peeked out from a pencil-filled coffee mug. The side facing her had “Happy Easter Mom” scrawled on it. Perhaps the other side had a tiny handprint. All the pencils were sharpened, and of different lengths, as if they were really used.

  Marci wrinkled her nose at the smell of coffee. All the cop shows on TV said the coffee in a police station was nasty, and the one she’d spent far too much time in back East was the same. But this stuff almost made her gag.

  A colorful flash of movement caught her eye. A short, busty woman with gray hair in a neat bun came out of the back room. Her black glasses had a sparkling turquoise chain attached, but it was her massive bosom that supported them. Red and purple swirls with large yellow polka dots covered her from neck to wrist to waist. The puffs on her shoulders were so large they almost dwarfed her head. Her stretchy pants matched dots. Her shoes were sturdy black ones, and her socks were white.

  “Help you?” she asked. She looked up and a wide smile burst forth. “Why, if it isn’t Simon and Lance MacDougal. What brings you in here, boys?”

  “We need a marriage license, Mrs. Gibson,” said Simon. “I’m marrying Miss Meshevski, here.”

  Marci choked. Lance rested his hand on the small of her back. His touch felt reassuring rather than possessive.

  “Louise Elliott doesn’t come in for another hour. She’s the county clerk. I’ll just go get you one.” She looked Marci up and down. “After you introduce me to the lady. Are you really going to marry these disreputable scoundrels?”