by Reece Butler
Chapter Ten
Simon flicked his tongue over Marci’s clit. This was the way for a man to start the day, with an eager woman’s pussy right in his face.
She gasped and grabbed his hair to hold him in place. “Right there!”
He added his finger as she pushed on the edge of the kitchen table with her bare heels, lifting her ass to press her pussy against his mouth. Marci was a fast learner, demanding he give her what she wanted. Right now, she was well on her way to the second orgasm of the day. The first happened in their bed with her sitting on his face again. He wanted her to sink down on his cock and ride him hard, but she wasn’t ready for that yet. He was hoping this afternoon the situation would change.
“Yes!” she screamed. “More!”
He heard a distinctive rumbling, silently cursed, and pulled back his head. She lifted her own and glared down her aroused body at him. He knew his face glistened from nose to chin. He lifted one corner of his mouth in a half smile and shook his head.
“Sorry, honey. Time to work.” He sat back in his chair.
“What? No!” When she sat up, her hot pussy pressed against the table. He wanted to mark the spot so they could do it again, and again, in the same place. Her feet dangled over the edge, far from the floor. “But, I was that close!” She held up her hand, thumb and first finger an inch apart.
“Yes, well, Donny’s about to get even closer.”
He pointed toward the window. Donny was parked right outside, driver’s side closest to the house. She shrieked and rolled off the table, landing on her feet. She scuttled forward, keeping her head down as she scrambled into her clothes.
“I thought that noise was my orgasm coming!”
He mentally patted his back that at least she now knew what an orgasm felt like.
“How long was he there?” she demanded as she shoved her shirt into her sweats. “Do you think he saw me?”
“Aw, honey, you’re acting like a teenager caught necking. It’s just Donny. He and Keith have four kids with Aggie. We didn’t do anything he hasn’t done lots of times.” Simon wiped his face with his forearm. The well-worn cotton shirt had been subjected to a lot worse fluids. He wasn’t sure he was going to wash it again.
“But I haven’t done it before!” Marci bit her lip and peeked out the window. The sun lit her worried frown. “Why’s he here so early?”
“He said he’d be over to help with chores,” said Simon. “Don’t worry about him. Even if he saw you, he won’t say anything.”
She turned incredulous eyes on him. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
He leered at her. “No, that’s my job,” he stated. “After Donny finishes the chores.”
“Ha!” She straightened her clothes and walked to the door with more dignity than he thought she’d be able to put together. “I’m going to help.”
“No, you’re not.” Barn chores were not for female guests. He reached for his crutches to stand. She grabbed them before he could and set them on a chair where he couldn’t easily reach. “What are you doing?”
“The doctor said you’re to stay off your foot. Now sit!”
He gave in to her, but just because his foot hurt like hell now that he wasn’t face-deep in ecstasy. He’d been just as close to coming when he’d heard that diesel rumble. She bustled around getting pillows to put his foot on and making sure he had fresh coffee.
“What are you going to do while I’m in the barn?”
He wanted Marci to stay on the ranch for a bit. Hell, he wanted her to stay for weeks if she could cook more of those brownies and was as hot and eager for sex. But to do that he had to let her think she was caring for him. He was the boss, no two ways about that, but she didn’t need to know it yet.
He looked around the room. He wasn’t the type of a man to sit still unless he had his nose in a book. Lance would work for hours braiding leather and stuff into ropes and halters that he sold for mega bucks to rich folk with more money than brains. Not him. All he wanted to do was work on his family’s ranch and pass it down to future generations. His eye caught the narrow spines stacked behind the glass corner cabinet.
“Why don’t you bring me one of those diaries,” he said, pointing. “I’ve been wanting to read them since I was a boy.”
“Any in particular?” she asked as she carefully eased open the door.
“Might as well start with the one on top.”
She handed it over after shutting the glass again. “Who wrote it?”
He opened the flyleaf and read out loud.
This is the personal property of Elizabeth Katherine James Elliott from June 1873 to December 1875.” He turned the page and found the same neat script. “June 21st, 1873. Sophie’s twins, Max and Vivian, are flourishing. I don’t know who is more proud. Max Senior struts around as if he was the only father and Vivian already has Sam wrapped around her tiny little finger. Josh lets them crow, giving his silent strength to protect all three of them. Trace is working hard to convince Max to take over as sheriff. With Willie and Meggie in town, and me carrying Jack’s baby, Trace wants to stay closer to home. No, to me. When I’m with child I have a such a need for loving, day and night!
Simon felt his ears start to burn. He cleared his throat. “No wonder my aunts wouldn’t let me read them.”
“You know those people?” asked Marci. She looked entranced rather than bored.
“Of course. They’re my ancestors.” Donny could wait. This was more important. “There’s a Bible on the table in the office. Bring it in and I’ll show you who they are.”
A moment later she carefully set the big black leather book down in front of him.
“Gillis MacDougal bought this for Amelia,” he said, running his fingers over the soft black leather. “She came here, sight unseen, in 1870 after signing a contract to marry his half brother, Ross. Her sister was Gillis’s wife, but she died after giving birth to a daughter. See here.” He pointed to the first page. “This lists every Montana MacDougal from Gillis on down. Birth dates, marriage, children, and their deaths.”
“Are you in there?”
“Of course. I’m a MacDougal.”
Marci ran light fingers over the list of names. She acted as if she was touching something as important as the Declaration of Independence.
“Don’t you have a family Bible?” he asked. She pulled her hand back as if burned. Then he remembered why she’d come to town, and felt like an ass. “Oh, hell, Marci. I forgot about the fire. It must have gone up in flames. But I was wondering, why aren’t you staying with relatives?”
She crossed her arms, almost hugging herself. “The only family I have is Ni—um, my sister. She’d love to have me stay but she doesn’t have enough space. And since you need help…” She flipped her hand as her words faded.
He couldn’t imagine not having family around. Sometimes it was a pain to have them sticking their nose in your business, but they were always there for you. It reminded him about Donny. Whether you wanted them to be near or not.
“You don’t have cousins, aunts and uncles, grandparents?”
“My mother was an only child. When she got pregnant with my sister, my grandparents threw her out. She wouldn’t have let him touch her if he hadn’t promised to marry her. Instead he let her keep the ring, added some hush money to pay for the birth, and disappeared. Mom never saw him again.” She picked at a cuticle, avoiding his eyes. “Six years later the same thing happened with me. Mom tried over the years to contact her family, but they refused to have anything to do with us.” She looked at the Bible. “Maybe that’s why I like to learn about the history of other families. So I can pretend what it would be like to have relatives.”
“If you hang around Climax, especially here in Tanner’s Ford Valley, you’ll be like family in no time.”
Her story made him wonder how she’d found herself here. Why choose to move to Nowhere, Montana, all alone? Maybe her sister had moved to the area. He wasn’t up on the comings a
nd goings of Climax after spending the long winter working his ass off since Lance was away. He turned pages until he came to one that was half blank. He found his name and pointed.
“Here we are.” She looked over his shoulder. “My mother and father, and Fergus. He was in the Army, and died in Vietnam.” He pointed to the date. “There’s only me and Lance left. That’s why we want children. To pass on this whole heritage.” He patted the thick book. There was more to the story but she had no need to know.
“Well,” she said brightly. “I’d best go help Donny before he finishes all the work.”
She rushed out of the room as if she couldn’t get out fast enough. He figured it had a lot to do with the tears he’d seen brimming in her eyes. He went back to the first page of the Bible and ran his finger down the names. Between Gillis and his half brothers, Ross and Nevin, they’d only had two sons. Gillis’s daughter, Hope, had married and moved to Helena. He remembered his grandfathers, Keir and Gavin, from when he was a boy. His grandmother, a woman from the East, had died shortly after his father was born. As they’d not remarried, Kevin was the only MacDougal of that generation. The only one left was his great-uncle Daniel George, who they all called grandfather in respect.
Gavin had been fairly light-skinned, and had passed on the same coloring to Simon, though he’d gotten his red hair from farther up the line. Someone had come to Tanner’s Ford and taken photographs of each family around 1871. Simon looked a lot like Gillis MacDougal, though not quite so tall or broad. Lance had ended up with Ross and Nevin’s Bannock genes except for his blue eyes. If they ever managed to marry and have a child, there’d be no telling what color skin it would have. Not that either of them gave a damn as long as the baby was healthy.
Simon carefully shut the Bible and moved it aside. Had God sent Marci Grant as a last chance for marriage and children? Just in case, he’d be aiming a few prayers at both sets of ancestors.
He opened Beth’s diary again. I have a such a need for loving, day and night! she’d written.
“So have I,” he said quietly.
He had lots of cousins, and Lance of course. But he wanted what Donny and Keith had with Aggie. A woman that turned a quiet house into a loud, loving home. That was what his ancestors did when they married. Bachelors who’d shared a small cabin didn’t care about anything but what was necessary. Things such as gingham curtains or a jelly jar of flowers on the table took energy better spent improving the ranch.
But when a woman arrived, everything changed. The men came home to hot food, a clean home, an eager wife and, in time, rambunctious children. Roles for men and women had changed over the years, but it took time for that to seep down to the countryside. Many women were ranchers, equal partners with their men. That valley tradition had started in 1870 when Elizabeth James married Trace Elliott and got his younger twin brothers as a package deal.
Back then, women and children were legal property of their husbands and fathers. Most had little say in how their lives were conducted. They could be beaten, raped, and tied up so they couldn’t run away. Some of the first wives in Tanner’s Ford had had those things happen. One had even been sold to a brothel by her fiancé. But instead of being shamed, they’d been praised for surviving and gone on to live far happier lives.
Each rancher since then had made sure their woman had an equal share of the ranch on paper. There was also a tradition of marrying strong-minded, intelligent women. When a man was raised by such a woman, and surrounded by aunts and cousins who were the same, he got used to it. Simon had met lots of women at college who giggled and pretended they were stupid as if it would make him feel smarter. Or maybe they weren’t pretending. But the males who fell for that, or wanted a woman to walk three steps behind on the left, were not men. Not in his book.
Beth Elliott had demanded a lot from her three husbands, and given at least as much in return. She’d lived in a home identical to this one. He looked around the pleasant kitchen, which was the original cabin. Benjamin and Louisa Elliott had shared it the first winter with Finan and Sunbird MacDougal. They had three children between them. But in spite of the crowding, three of his great-grandfathers had been conceived that winter. His namesake, Simon, and twin brother Jack Elliott, along with Ross MacDougal, were born the next autumn.
He touched the table where Marci had settled her ass for some of his tongue work. This morning was just the latest in a string of sexual escapades contained within these log walls. He did some quick math.
“There’s been one hundred and thirty-six years of hot sex in this room.”
He snorted a laugh and started reading the diary, out loud because it made it all seem so real.
Trace loves my apple turnovers, but he didn’t mind waiting for me to cut them out. Not when Jack had the children for an hour. He didn’t even bother to clear the table, just unbuttoned, lifted my dress, and bent me over. Oh my, did I need that thick cock inside me! He rode me hard, just the way I like it. He used those fingers on my nipples, pinching and pulling to make me fly higher. Soon I was screaming, one peak after another as—
“Holy Hannah!”
Chapter Eleven
Simon slammed the cover of Beth’s journal closed. He pushed the book away as if it was on fire. He shuddered, heart pounding. He shouldn’t be getting horny reading about people who’d been dead for a hundred years getting it on. But his cock was throbbing as hard as last night when Marci dropped her clothes. Would she want to get back to what they’d been doing when Donny showed up?
“I bet the same thing happened right here.” He looked at the scarred table. Donny and Keith had used it with Aggie, he’d just used it, and he bet every generation had as well. “No wonder it’s never been moved, sold, or burned. Too many good memories in each generation.” He caressed the heavy harvest-size table. He could see lifting Marci’s dress, bending her over the table and doing what Trace did for Beth.
There was still no sound from the barn. His hand went out as if by itself, and pulled the journal over. Maybe if he started somewhere else he could learn some history that did not involve naked ancestors doing things that made him horny and, dammit, jealous!
July 30th. Molly Tanner and Meggie Wright are both nearing their time. They are nervous like all first-time mothers, but are pleased they have each other for comfort. The husbands, of course, are fretting worse than the mothers. Meggie’s child will be our first grandchild. I don’t know how I feel about being a grandmother when I’m not yet thirty, but it won’t be stopping me from doing whatever I choose!
Hope MacDougal came down with a fever and Amelia was quite worried, but she pulled through. I think the Bannock plant medicines work far better than what Doc Henley was trained to use. But he’s willing to take knowledge wherever he can get it. The willow-bark tea was very helpful to lower Mary Barstow’s fever. The sheriff was worried sick.
Simon looked at his leg. The white cast was so damned heavy and awkward, that he’d cursed it. But he’d been able to drive himself to the clinic where nurses and doctors would do their damnedest to fix anything. Some of them were royal pains in the behinds, like Doc Meshevski and Brenda, but their hearts were in the right place. He was in for a few weeks of nuisance, but then he’d be fine again.
It would’ve been different in 1873.
Back then, there was a good chance his bones would heal in the wrong position if he didn’t die of infection. He could have been crippled. How could a man, on his own with a wife and family, cope? That was another reason Tanner’s Ford ranchers had three men protecting and providing for their families. Men who had accidents far from the ranch died with no one to know until their bones were found, scattered by animals.
Their wives would wait, hoping they’d return, coping as best they could. And when no husband returned to a prosperous ranch, word would spread. He’d read histories of women who’d had no choice but to marry the man who showed up at her door and informed her he was taking her along with the ranch. Some were good men who took t
heir time to ease the wife into her nightly duties. Many were not. One drunk preacher and she became his property, along with everything her dead husband had owned. Sometimes rumors suggested the new man had arranged for his predecessor’s death.
It never happened in Tanner’s Ford because they took care of their own.
And over a hundred years later, they were still taking care of each other. Donny was out there doing the chores Simon should be doing, slowed down by a pesky city gal likely asking too many questions. But then Marci would take care of Donny’s wild tribe so he and Aggie could take the baby to the doctor.
He hated to admit it, but Marci was turning out to be different than what he expected. Not only was she a good cook and great with Sophie, she wasn’t shy about demanding orgasms. She didn’t give in to him just because he growled, and her being in the barn meant she was trying to do whatever she could to help out. Less than twelve hours and the woman was getting under his skin. What the heck was he going to do if she waltzed out of here as soon as he could hobble around?
He leaned forward and scrubbed his head with both hands.
“Well, cowboy, you’d best do whatever you can to make her want to stay, at least until Lance comes back. And that means satisfying her with lots of hot sex, yes-siree.”
His stiff cock lined up with his stiff leg. He couldn’t do much about either one of them. Usually when he got sexually frustrated, he went out and chopped wood or did something else that was so exhausting his mind went blank. He couldn’t do it this time thanks to his leg, so he’d jump into the past. He turned back to the book.
Mary Barstow had the same sort of fever that took Louisa and Benjamin Elliott when Trace and the others were children. Finan MacDougal was a horrid man, but he did keep the younger Elliotts alive by taking them into his home. Mind you, all he wanted was free labor, especially when he moved them, lock, stock, and barrel, to a new ranch in Texas. We were so relieved when Amelia had those twin boys. Those Texas MacDougals will never get control of the MD Connected ranch in Tanner’s Ford!
