The Merry Widow of Tanner's Ford (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Reece Butler

  “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 neighbor 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?
<
br />   “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.”

  Falling in love?

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Marci half swallowed, tried to breathe, and ended up choking. She rolled forward, coughing, unable to hear what else Simon said.

  An hour ago she’d told him almost everything, even how she’d killed Ted to save herself. No one but Nikki knew that. Even her sister didn’t know how scared she was of going to prison. That was why she hated elevators and wouldn’t close the bathroom door. Yet she’d told Simon about her fear. What was it about him that made her trust him with such a secret? She never told Ted anything about herself. Not that he was interested, but deep inside, she didn’t trust him.

  Realizing that was a relief. It meant she wasn’t a bad judge of character after all. Which meant that wanting Simon after only a few days, was not necessarily wrong. It wasn’t rebound love. It couldn’t be when she’d never loved Ted.

  But the man who made her heart race, who she trusted to fall asleep on and tell secrets to, had just told the person closest to him that he loved her. She couldn’t marry Simon, not that he’d asked. She would never let such a good man be legally tied to her. Not with the potential of a lurid trial and years spent in prison looming over her head.

  She listened to them banter, two brothers who loved each other yet used insults as praise. She got up from the bed and walked to the door. Simon sat with his back to her, his cast resting on a chair. At least he’d listened to her and put his foot up. His head bent forward on his chest. He held the phone to his right ear as he listened intently.

  “I have to tell her, but I don’t know how she’ll take it.” He ran his free hand through his red curls. “No, it’s not like that. She’s had some bad stuff happen and just told me about it.” Simon listened for a moment. “No! Nothing like that. Her goddamn husband slashed her face with a knife because she fought back when he tried to burn their house down with her in it.”

  The statement, though horrid, was true. Simon winced and moved the phone away from his ear. Lance yelled so loud Marci could hear the muffled shout. What was it Simon needed to tell her, but didn’t know how she’d react? She knew Lance had darker skin, but so did she. And none of it made a bit of difference. Their mother was a nasty piece of work, and their father hadn’t stood up for his children. What else could be so bad?

  “Calm down, man, she’s fine, except for having nightmares. I heard her moaning something about being locked up and being burned alive. I climbed in beside her and told her I was there to protect her. She calmed right down and went back to sleep.”

  She’d had another nightmare, one that Simon had eased? She usually woke up screaming, either from agony as she was burned alive, or from the terror of being locked in a cell with no escape as flames roared toward her. Just thinking about it made her shake. Then Simon’s calm voice flowed over her.

  “The way she feels about the bastard, I’ll never have a reason to be jealous of her ex,” said Simon. “And your ravens like her.” Another pause. “Yeah, she wants kids.” The tone of his voice softened. He relaxed back in the chair. “You should’ve seen her with Aggie’s brood. She had the three older ones over Saturday night, for the six-week night after Sophie’s birth. Marci was telling knock-knock jokes that had Riley holding his belly laughing. Even Florrie got the giggles.”

  It had been fun. The Adams children reminded her of the best reasons why she wanted some of her own. She loved how much interest they showed in the world around them. Their laughter, even the way they tried to manipulate the people in their lives, fascinated her.

  “What if she doesn’t want to be a ranch wife in a dinky little backwater Montana town? She’s used to the city. I bet she had a fancy house, expensive clothes, and lots of fussy friends. You know how Aggie was until she realized the whole town wanted her to stay. People mind each other’s business in a small town. That shows they care. City folk don’t understand that. They want to keep inside their little world where no one sees what’s going on or does something about it. I don’t want a wife like that.”

  Marci almost stomped over and punched Simon in the shoulder. She’d had the wealthy country-club life and was sick of it. Many of the people Ted wanted her to befriend were selfish, jealous, and bitter. Trophy wives had to look perfect or their husband would trade them in for a newer model. Younger women, married or not, were potential successors to be kept in their place. She’d tried not to take it personally. All they had were looks, and it was a commodity that diminished each day.

  That was why Ted slashed her face. In his mind a scarred woman was flawed, and, therefore, no one would value her. He certainly didn’t. Simon, on the other hand, said he loved her. But he was forty years old. He could just be desperate for any woman who’d live with him.

  Simon lowered his voice. “Oh, man, wait ’til you see her. That ass alone will take you to paradise. She smells of vanilla and chocolate when she’s baking and God! she tastes good. When she comes in my mouth!” He shuddered, then shifted on the hard chair. “That aside, Marci’s good people. You’ll see.”

  Simon liked her big behind? She pushed away what he said about tasting her. That just brought hot memories and made her want more. She’d swallowed him deep and had him erupt on her tongue. She’d only tasted the one man, but had enjoyed it immensely. Simon listened for a moment, then barked a laugh.

  “Yeah, as soon as I can. Too bad, brother. You’ll just have to use your right hand while you think of how I’m taking care of our woman. And how she’s taking care of me.”

  Their woman? I don’t think so!

  Lance made such loud noise that Simon held the phone from his ear. He was laughing because Lance was obviously not happy.

  “So, you’ll be home soon?” He shook his head as if Lance could see. “Nah, she’s nothing like Mom. Her skin’s like coffee with lots of cream. Beautiful. But wait’ll you use that Bannock touch on her. Then you’ll see why I want her to marry us.”

  She slapped her hand over her mouth to hold back her gasp. He’d said love, and that she was “their woman,” but going from don’t-shove-this-woman-at-me to love and marriage in three days? That wasn’t to be believed. He wanted her for a reason, and she suspected it had something to do with what Simon hadn’t yet told her.

  They needed her for some reason and would marry her to keep her around. But she didn’t need Simon, or Lance. She would not marry anyone with the potential of a manslaughter conviction hanging over her head. She did not make promises lightly. She was not her father. Any vow she gave was forever. Therefore, she would make darn sure it was one she could live with for the rest of her life.

  If the police and insurance people said they had nothing on her, and if Ted’s insurance money came through, she would be set. The money wouldn’t allow her to buy a ranch outright. But if she married into the ranch she could pay off some of their bills and put a good dent into the ranch’s Must Do list. Simon and Lance knew nothing about the potential of money. So what did they want from her?

  “Got a question. What’ll we do if she only wants one or two kids?” Simon paused. “Yah, you know I want daughters just as much as you. But what if the Spirits say we’ll have six of them before we get the boy, and Marci says she’s had enough after five?”

  Simon beli
eved in spirits? It would make sense if he’d spent time with his Bannock relatives. Living close to the land for generations would also bring a different viewpoint than a city person. There’d be no drive-by shootings, but stampeding cattle, snowstorms, floods, or rattlesnakes could easily kill.

  Here, nature provided, and nature took away. Having a number of children to carry on the ranch made sense. That suited her. Even when she was a little girl, she’d wanted lots of children. She was often lonely, and Nikki had her head in a book most of the time. She wanted to make sure her children would never be lonely. When Ted told her children were impossible, she’d cried for a week. Not where he could see, of course. He would have enjoyed her pain too much.

  Aggie had four children, and wasn’t upset at the thought of having more. Ginny was pregnant with twin boys, Anne had her precious daughter, Marsha, and Brenda had a few of her own as well. While Brenda worked long hours, the others were home full time. And every one of them was happy in their choice.

  She’d grown up in a tiny trailer with a mother who was desperate to be with her daughters but had to spend too many hours working just to meet the basic necessities. Marci had vowed to do everything possible to stay home with her children and be a homemaker. Not a wife taking care of a house, as she’d been for Ted. No, she wanted to be a woman who made a house into a home, filling it with her heart, products of her hands, lots of laughter, and a few tears.

  If she’d had a couple of children with Ted, she would have put all her love into them and ignored her husband. But he’d made sure it would never happen. It sounded like Simon and Lance would welcome as many children as she could produce. But this time around she was going to make sure that she chose the right husband. She blinked. A giggle rose up. Husbands.

  Simon snarled a curse, grabbing her attention.

  “Of course I’ll tell Marci before asking her to marry me. But that damn contract was written back in eighteen-sixty-something by a miserable bastard!” He grabbed at his hair, yanking it in obvious frustration. “If we don’t have a son, we lose everything. And I don’t want some son of a bitch from Texas taking over our ranch!”