Far From Montana

by Penny Ash

  Far From Montana

  Penny Ash

  Published 2007

  ISBN 978-1-59578-404-9

  Published by Liquid Silver Books, imprint of Atlantic Bridge Publishing, 10509 Sedgegrass Dr, Indianapolis, Indiana 46235. Copyright © 2007, Penny Ash. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Liquid Silver Books

  http://LSbooks.com

  Email:

  raven@LSbooks.com

  Editor

  Barbara Marshall

  Cover Artist

  April Martinez

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  Chapter One

  From the moment he got off the bus, Dell Blackfeather knew coming home was a mistake. Several of the old timers in the combination bus station and café glared at him when he walked in. He ignored them and called the only family he had left, his cousin Mike, to come and get him, then went back outside to wait.

  Dell leaned against the streetlight pole by the café door and did his best to ignore the gawkers that slowed to stare as they passed. The crawling feeling between his shoulder blades told him the occupants of the café were also watching him. Well, he’d be out of this place as soon as he got his things from Mike.

  The sound of a car stopping made him look up. He watched Sheriff Many Hats get out of the cruiser and walk toward him.

  “Thought you were locked up,” Many Hats said.

  “They let me go,” Dell answered.

  “Hard to believe, boy.”

  “DNA proved I didn’t do it. And Elsie’s diary,” Dell said.

  “People ain’t gonna take too well to you coming back here,” Many Hats said, a warning note in his voice.

  “Well, I’m not staying around this sorry town, so they can relax. Soon as I get my truck I’m gone.” He saw Mike coming finally and stepped away from the pole.

  Mike stopped the old truck, and Dell walked toward it.

  “I ain’t done talking to you, boy,” Many Hats said.

  “Yeah, well, I’m done talking to you.” Dell opened the passenger door and climbed into the truck.

  He and his cousin rode in silence until they’d left the town far behind.

  “You plan on staying?” Mike asked.

  “Not if I can help it. I’m just here long enough to get my stuff, and then I’m gone.”

  “Probably a good idea.”

  The house was pretty much like he’d last seen it, and Dell didn’t waste any time collecting his things and loading the boxes into his old red truck. They couldn’t pay him enough to stay in this little town full of holier-than-thou hypocrites.

  * * * *

  As he drove down the highway away from the town he’d grown up in and everything he’d known, Dell felt a lightness come over him. He flicked ash from his cigarette out the open window and stuck it back between his full lips before running his hand through his shaggy, collar length, jet-black hair and sighing. All he owned in the world was in the bed of the truck; he had nothing tying him to anything and the whole world at his feet.

  He had learned a few lessons from the past five years. He’d be a lot less trusting in the future, especially with guys like Wilson Long. And he would definitely think twice, and maybe even three times, about hooking up with another bitch like Elsie. How he could have been fooled into thinking she had cared for anyone but herself he’d never understand.

  Dell sighed. A memory of Elsie on the stand at his trial flashed through his head. She’d given an Academy Award-worthy performance, convincing the jury that he had shot his best friend when Tommy had caught Dell trying to force himself on her. When his lawyer asked about Wilson, she’d denied he even existed.

  Lighting another cigarette, he relaxed even further. It felt good to put the past and prison behind him. A year of jail for the trial and four years of prison for a murder he didn’t commit had given him a lot of time to think and an incentive to start a new life somewhere far away.

  Two steady days of uneventful driving saw him pulling into the parking lot of a truck stop just off the highway in Flagstaff, Arizona. It was sunny and warm, and the day promised to get a lot hotter in a few hours. He stood at the pump, putting gas in his truck, the summer breeze catching the tail of his blue plaid shirt and flipping it around.

  A car pulled up to the pump behind him, and he watched the driver get out and walk into the building. She wore faded blue jeans that molded to her body just right and an old gray tank top that sent a definite signal straight to his groin. Her light brown hair was pinned up with a plastic clip that sparkled in the sun.

  Dell entertained a brief fantasy involving bending her over the hood of her compact car. The idea of taking that soft and shiny looking hair down and wrapping his hands in it while he drove himself into her had his jeans becoming uncomfortable. He coughed and, glancing around quickly and swallowing hard, he pulled his black felt cowboy hat down and adjusted himself.

  The woman returned to her small car and started to put gas in it. He smiled and nodded. She met his eyes, and he noticed hers were green. His gas quit pumping, and he walked inside to pay and buy a pack of cigarettes. When he came back out, she was gone in her little blue car. Too bad, he wouldn’t have minded a visit to the truck stop’s motel. She was small, probably wouldn’t come up to the middle of his chest, but the woman had a fine butt. And it had, after all, been five long, lonely years. He got in his truck and pulled back out on the highway.

  * * * *

  Alison stopped to get gas and watched the man at the pump ahead of her nervously from the corner of her eye. He was nice-looking, with straight, coal black hair that just brushed his collar, and his jeans and blue plaid shirt showcased his fit, hard body. Aside from his good looks, he seemed ordinary, sturdy, tall. Nothing at all like Ryan with his designer suits and carefully styled hair. She ignored the slow burn low in her stomach and didn’t return the smile he gave her. She left while he was inside. Last thing she needed was another man, even one as beautiful as this one.

  She watched the long, straight road and caught herself replaying her reason for being there. The steady drone of the tires on the hot asphalt and the broken dividing line put her in a light hypnotic trance, transporting her back to Los Angeles.

  Tears blurred her vision as she hurried out to her car. Coming home to find her very proper and stuffy husband in bed with America’s favorite TV super mom had been a nasty shock.

  Ryan stood in the door of their Mission style mansion. “You leave now, Alison, and you can forget about ever coming back,” he shouted.

  She started the car and threw it into reverse with a bitter laugh that turned into a sob, leaving everything behind. As if she would stay in the same house with him and that woman.

  Sniffing, she chuckled grimly and wiped the tears from her eyes at the memory. “You sure know how to pick them,” she said to herself. One thing was certain; she was done with the prim and proper lifestyle her ex-husband had insisted on. Ryan hadn’t even let the ink dry on the divorce papers before he had jetted off to Las Vegas and married his actress.

  An hour and a half out of Flagstaff, Alison’s car began to make a strange knocking sound, snapping her out of her remembrances. All the gauges and warning lights were going crazy on the dash panel.

  “No, no, no,” she moaned and began pulling onto the shoulder. As soon as she bega
n to slow down, vile-smelling black smoke began pouring into the car.

  She skidded to a stop, and flames burst out from under the hood. She grabbed her purse, jumping out with her keys in her hand. For some insane reason, she popped the trunk and took the time to grab her two small suitcases just as the flames ran down the undercarriage of the car and reached the nearly full gas tank.

  The explosion knocked her down as she ran from the car, bits of burning debris spattering the ground around her and peppering her back. She landed on her bags, popping one open and spilling clothes onto the dirt. Yelping, she covered her head and cringed as several large pieces of debris rained down around her.

  Chapter Two

  As Dell drove down Interstate Highway 40 toward Albuquerque, he noticed the column of thick black smoke and swore softly. Someone definitely had a problem. As he got closer he realized it was a car burning. Closer still and he recognized the lady running from the car as the one who had been at the truck stop gas station.

  He jerked his truck off the road onto the opposite shoulder and slammed on his brakes, skidding to a stop. The car exploded and sent the woman flying. Jumping out, he ran up to where she was sprawled over her suitcases.

  His eyes widened slightly at the sight of plain white cotton underwear spilling out of one case onto the dirt. They were not at all what he would have expected from a woman with her shape. With a pang, he remembered his friend Tommy once calling that type of underwear granny panties. He stopped next to her and caught hold of her arm, helping her stand up and patting down her back where the smoldering debris had scorched her shirt. His hand brushed over her ass, and his stomach clenched tightly.

  “What the hell happened?” He asked. He hoped she put his breathlessness down to his running to help and not the plain animal lust it was.

  She pulled away, looking first at him, then at the burning car and then back at him. “You’re kidding me, right?” She stooped down to shove her clothes back in the open bag, and the view of her cleavage gave his pulse rate a kick into high gear.

  Dell rolled his eyes and knelt down to help her gather up her underwear. “What made it blow up?”

  “How should I know? Do I look like a mechanical genius? It made a weird knocking sound and all the warning lights went off,” she said, glancing back at her car before snatching a pair of panties out of his hands. Her cheeks turned pink, and he smiled. It had been a long time since he’d seen a woman blush.

  “Well, it’s toast now, whatever caused it,” he said with a sigh, dusting off his knees as he stood.

  “Oh, you think?” she said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. She jerked out of his reach, turning to watch her burning car. Tears welled up in her eyes, and the muscles in her jaw tightened with the effort to not cry.

  She crossed her arms over her chest. Her breasts shifted, deepening her cleavage and lifting her breasts in a tantalizing invitation to touch them. Dell coughed dryly and looked away, willing the warmth pooling deep in his belly to go away.

  They both turned at the sound of sirens and watched the fire truck pull up, followed by a police car and a tow truck. The police car rolled to a stop near them, and a huge officer got out and ambled over to them. “What happened here?” he asked.

  The woman pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her soft green eyes shut, looking pained. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The car blew up,” she said with exaggerated patience.

  “Why’d it do that for?” the police officer asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said through clenched teeth.

  “Well, it’s toast now,” he said.

  Dell turned to watch the firemen put out the fire, hiding his grin.

  “Oh no, not…toast,” she said, her voice tragic. Dell shoved his hands into his pockets. He gave a stray rock a kick and took a deep breath, turning to look at the woman and the policeman. She was looking at the deputy with wide eyes, her hands clasped over her heart. It reminded him of the heroines in the old movies he’d watched as a kid. She’d probably bat her eyelashes at the poor guy next.

  “Yep, ’fraid so,” the officer replied seriously.

  Dell hurriedly turned his bark of laughter into a cough.

  “Oh dear, what will I do?” she asked, giving Dell a glare.

  “Welp, old Yancy and his boy will probably take it off your hands cheap. Y’all have a good day now,” the officer said and ambled back to his cruiser.

  “Must be a man thing,” the woman said in a voice of deep disgust.

  Dell snickered.

  * * * *

  The tow truck driver charged her fifty dollars and happily towed the ruined vehicle off to the local junkyard. Nearly as fast as they’d arrived, the emergency response team left without even offering the lady a ride into the nearest town.

  Dell watched the people leave and sighed, flicking ash from his cigarette. “Where were you headed?” he asked. The thoughtlessness of the people who had responded to the fire irritated him. They, of all people, should have realized the middle of the desert was no place to leave anyone, especially a woman on her own.

  “I was going to see friends in Texas,” she answered. “Looks like that won’t be happening now.”

  “I planned to stop in Albuquerque for the night; you can ride with me that far.” He turned and headed for his truck.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it,” she said sourly, and Dell picked up her suitcases, motioning her toward his truck. He ruthlessly repressed the warm tingly feeling he got from watching the way her tight jeans accented sway of her hips as she walked toward his truck. When she climbed up into the cab he groaned and swore softly, closing his eyes for a brief moment to calm his raging hormones.

  He tossed her bags into the back and tied them down on top of his stuff while she got in. He dropped his cigarette butt and stepped on it, then got in and started the engine. Pulling out onto the highway, he smiled at her and reached over toward her. “My name’s Dell Blackfeather,” he said.

  “Alison Taylor,” she said, smiling slightly and shaking his hand.

  “So, where are you from, Alison?” Dell asked, trying to make a little light conversation. He looked away, focusing back on the road. He wondered if she’d felt the same zing of electricity he had when their hands touched.

  “Back there,” she said and waved vaguely behind them.

  He rolled his eyes. “Back there where?”

  “Los Angeles,” Alison sighed, “and you are obviously from Montana.”

  “How did…”

  “I know? Your license tags.” Her smile sent a rush of heat through him that had nothing to do with his truck’s lack of air conditioning. “And your reaction.”

  “Oh.” He smiled sheepishly.

  They were quiet for awhile, the uncomfortable silence of strangers thrown together by circumstances beyond their control settling over them. Alison dozed off in the heat, and Dell used the chance to study her, looking at her from the corner of his eye.

  She wasn’t movie-star pretty, but she had an air about her that turned him inside out. He puffed on another cigarette and drove east down the nearly deserted highway, the wind tousling his hair.

  Her expression was vaguely troubled; she looked like a woman with heavy things on her mind. Dell wondered what she was brooding over.

  “Those things are bad for you,” she said, her voice soft with sleep as he reached for the half-empty pack on the dash.

  He glanced over at her. The sleepy, half-lidded expression on her face made her look even prettier. “Yeah, I know, but without the habit I’d be disgustingly perfect,” Dell replied, smiling and giving her a wink before dragging his eyes back to the road.

  Alison yawned and chuckled, then just shook her head, her expression lightening as she turned to watch the desert landscape pass by.

  Chapter Three

  The sign at the turn off for the Petrified Forest and Painted Desert Visitor’s Center said food and restrooms were available, so Dell took the exit. Some lunc
h in a cool restaurant would be nice. Glancing over at Alison, he noticed she’d fallen asleep again.

  He slowed to a stop in the parking lot and took a few minutes to check her out a little more closely. She had to have the most beautiful breasts he’d seen outside of a magazine. Elsie had been nearly flat, and his other girlfriends hadn’t been much bigger. He wondered if they were real and as soft as they looked, and if she’d let him touch them.

  He leaned over to wake her, reaching out toward her shoulder. His hand hovered indecisively between the curve of her shoulder and the rounded slope of her breast. Her skin felt like sun-warmed velvet, or what he imagined velvet would feel like, as he touched her shoulder. She sighed in her sleep, and he was suddenly glad he’d resisted the temptation of her breast.

  His groin tingled, but he ignored it. Just because he’d spent the last five years in prison didn’t mean he was going to jump on the first woman he saw. Not even one who pushed all his hot buttons like this one did. “Hey, I’m ready for some lunch, how about you?” he asked, giving her a slight nudge.

  Alison opened her eyes and grimaced. “Uh, yeah, yeah, lunch sounds good. Where are we?”

  “The Petrified Forest and Painted Desert Visitor’s Center. Come on, let’s go inside.”

  He got out and stretched before opening the door for her. His estimation of her went up several notches when she accepted his offer of a hand out of the truck without complaining. The strength of her grip sent another tremor of lust through him, and he tried not to imagine that fine-boned hand wrapped around other, more sensitive parts of his anatomy.

  She started toward the building. He caught the belt loop of her jeans, stopping and holding her there. His stomach clenched in a strange mix of anticipation and lust. He really had to stop touching her or he was going to seriously embarrass himself.

  He saw the sudden fear in her eyes when she turned to look at him and chose to overlook it, even as he wondered what had made her so afraid. With his experiences in the last five years, he couldn’t blame her for being wary; in fact, he had a mind to be careful himself. After all, he didn’t have a clue about her either, not really.