Fire Storm (The Gathering Storm Book 2)
Page 28
Joe passed him a plain envelope and a piece of paper. “I need you to sign for it.”
Tim narrowed his eyes. In his experience, nothing good ever came in mail that required a signature.
The swearing-in was over. Dana was still busy. Everyone seemed to want to congratulate her and shake her hand.
He made his way to the back of the room, tearing open the envelope.
Dear Timothy,
If you are reading this, then I’m dead. I’ve been putting off meeting you because I’m a coward. Your father and I had our differences over the years, but I always respected him. I fooled myself into thinking you didn’t need the money, but does that matter?
Last summer I was at my favorite fishing spot on the river when I saw something shining on the far bank, on your side. It was a can of coins. The dealer thought they were from a robbery committed by the Wild Bunch in 1901. I don’t know if that’s true. I’m just telling you what he said.
I sold six of them and got twenty thousand dollars a piece. I used the money to pay a lawyer to fight Third Estate Mining.
I told myself Jack wouldn’t mind me taking them. Your father loves the land as much as I do. But a guilty conscience can be an awful thing. See, I never gave Jack a choice. It got so I couldn’t sleep with the idea that I had stolen something that was rightfully his. Then I heard through my dear Victoria that you got power of attorney and were selling Wind Valley Ranch. I was furious. I stormed into Shady Pines thinking to give Jack a piece of my mind. I wanted to tell him what a bastard you are. But there is no Jack. The man I knew is gone, stolen by that awful disease.
Tim, I had no idea you were so broke. There are still a lot of coins left in that can. I left it where I found it. In my favorite fishing spot on your side of the river. I know you’ll use the money for Jack’s care.
Hopefully, I will find the courage to tell you in person. I’m not proud of what I did and I hope you can forgive me.
If you’re reading this, then I died a thief and a coward.
I’m sorry,
Ben.
Tim folded the paper. The one thing they hadn’t discussed since the fire was Zoe’s motive for poisoning Ben. She’d said she didn’t mean to kill him, and that was probably true.
Dana made her way to the back of the room. “What’s wrong?”
He smiled. He loved how she understood him. “Nothing.” He passed her the letter and watched her expression. Her mouth fell open as her gaze followed the words on the page. “We need to give this to Ramirez. It proves Zoe Harris’s motive. She said she was looking for a pot of gold.”
A sour taste filled his mouth. “Do you think this will become public?”
She nodded. “Yes. There’s no way around it.”
He kissed her cheek. “I’ll be back later.”
She grabbed his elbow. “Where are you going?”
He grinned. “Ben’s favorite fishing spot.” Then he strode out of the town hall, the prospect of finding a fortune in gold coins sending a thrill through his veins.
Epilogue
Two Months Later
Dana opened her eyes just a crack. Tim stood at the window, naked, staring out over the wild Montana landscape. It was a full moon, so even in the darkened room she could make out the slope of his back, his taut buttocks, and his shoulders. The two-inch scar on his left shoulder blade had healed. He flexed, stretching his spine, and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.
It wasn’t unusual for him to wake and stand guard while she slept. She knew he was haunted by the idea that Ethan Moore was still out there. Normally, on nights like these, she’d reach for him, run her hands through the hairs in his chest to feel his muscled torso. That was all it took for them to go back to bed and make love, tangling the sheets in their quest for completion.
He had found what was being called the Molly’s Mountain Hoard. The old rusted can contained over a hundred coins, all of them dating back to the mid-nineteenth century. There was speculation about their origin, but the prevailing theory was that they were stolen in a bank robbery and buried. Whoever buried them had either died before their loot could be retrieved or were never able to find it again.
Tim had set up a trust that would cover his father’s medical bills. Then he had set to work remodeling the ranch. The bunkhouse was now a studio apartment. Logan loved it and had claimed it for his own. He had enough room for all his art supplies and privacy when Mia visited.
Dana tried not to think about what her son got up to in the bunkhouse. She had lectured him on birth control and then asked Tim to talk to him. Tim had refused on the grounds that Logan didn’t want to have the sex talk from the man who was sleeping with his mom.
Dana had reacted with no tact, sensitivity, or charm. If they were to have a future together, then Tim was going to have to take on a parental role. Tim disagreed. He said Logan was a young man, not a child, and should be treated with respect. Tim wasn’t and never would be his father, but he promised to always be there for her son.
It had been their first argument, and it probably wouldn’t be their last. But of course, making up was always the best part of arguing.
She slipped out of bed and went to him. Even from a distance, she could feel the heat emanating from his body. He clasped her hand.
The stark moonlight cast harsh shadows across his face.
“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” He didn’t look at her, but instead stared out at Molly’s Mountain.
The tension in his spine and the fact that he refused to meet her gaze sent a chill down her back.
“I love you, Dana.” He blurted the words before she could ask what was wrong.
“I love you, too.”
“Marry me? I’ve talked it over with Logan and I asked his permission.”
“You asked his—”
“Yeah, I know you don’t want us to decide your life for you, but I figured he’d appreciate the gesture. The final choice is yours.” He stared at the ground, avoiding eye contact, and she realized for the first time he was unsure. This confident, capable man had put himself out on a limb, uncertain of her response.
Somehow that vulnerability made her love him all the more. “Of course, I’ll marry you. I love you.”
Before she knew what was happening, she was in his arms and they were kissing.
He worked his way down her neck with licks and nips of his teeth. A familiar hum of excitement scattered down her spine. His thumb brushed her nipple, sending a shockwave through her. She jumped, wrapping both legs around his waist, reveling in the feel of his erection pressing against her vagina.
He caught her, his big hands caressing her butt. “Logan thinks we should live here. He has more privacy, and so do we, for that matter.”
“That’s good. I plan on making some noise tonight.”
“I’m going to make you happy,” he promised between kisses as he carried her back to bed.
She smiled as her hands stroked his firm body. “You already do.”
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About Marlow
After being thrown out of England for refusing to drink tea, Marlow Kelly made her way to Canada where she found love, a home and a pug named Max. She also discovered her love of storytelling. Encouraged by her husband, children and let’s not forget Max, she started putting her ideas to paper. Her need to write about strong women in crisis drives her stories.
Marlow is an award-winning author, and a member of the Romance Writers of America.
Website: http://www.marlowkelly.com
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