DOUBLE MONTANA TREATS.

Marla Monroe.

Letter to Readers.

Dear Readers, If you have purchased this copy of Double Montana Treats by Marla Monroe from BookStrand.com or its official distributors, thank you. Also, thank you for not sharing your copy of this book.

Chapter One.

Andrea "Drew" Fenton pulled on the fence with the puller to tighten the wire down. Then she nailed it in place and carefully snipped the barbed wire. That was the last of the holes she'd found so far. If she didn't find more help soon, she was going to be in trouble this winter. It didn't seem to matter that it was 2011. Men still didn't like working for a female boss.

She had ch.o.r.es around the house and barn that needed doing, not to mention the d.a.m.n paperwork that was piling up. If she could find a foreman and at least one other man to help Kenny, her only help at the moment, then maybe she would make it through another winter. Her cows sold well at market because she ran a small herd and took good care of them. She wasn't out to become rich. She just wanted a home and a living. Problem was, she couldn't do it all herself.

It didn't help that Brett Gunnison kept after her to sell the place to him. He offered her a little below market value for the land, not to mention the buildings on it. She knew a scam when she smelled one. Brett was all about enlarging his ranch, which sat on the other side of hers. If she sold to him, he'd have the largest ranch in the territory. Not if she could help it.

She looked up and noticed a plume of dust in the distance and cursed. Whoever they were, they would make it to the house before she did. It was another reason she didn't like having to work out on the land so much. She couldn't watch out for the house and barns way out in the middle of nowhere.

Drew grabbed her tools and the rest of the barbed wire. She snagged her arm in the process of being in a hurry. Cursing, she grabbed a towel out of the back of the truck and wrapped it around her arm, then tore off some electrical tape and taped it down. h.e.l.l, she hoped she didn't need st.i.tches again. At least her teta.n.u.s shot was up-to-date.

She hightailed it back to the house, hoping it wasn't anything major to deal with. Kenny was on the north side of the ranch, dealing with the fence lines there. He'd never see the dust. She would have to handle this alone.

She pulled up into the yard from around the back of the barn and found a strange truck parked in her drive. The cab was empty. She debated whether to check the house or the barn then decided to honk the horn instead. She stood up on the runner and honked twice, keeping one hand on the b.u.t.t of the rifle in the window rack. Two men walked from the direction of the old barn on the other side of the house. They walked slowly toward her with their hands out beside them, as if showing they weren't armed. She guessed they had just cause to be cautious since she was clearly armed.

"Ma'am," one of them called out as they approached.

He stood a good six foot four or five inches with a black hat pulled low on his head, shading his eyes from her sight. He was solidly built with broad shoulders and a wide chest. He wore new-looking jeans and a worn-looking Western shirt with well-used boots.

The other man stood an inch or two shorter. He probably outweighed the other man by twenty, twenty-five pounds of pure muscle. His jeans were also new, as was his shirt, but his boots weren't. So they were working men despite the new jeans. What did they want?

"What can I do for you?" she called out when they'd gotten within fifteen yards of the truck.

"Understood you were looking for hands. We'd like to apply for the jobs," the first one said.

The second one didn't say anything but kept his eyes on her hands, or rather, the hand on the rifle. He knew a threat when he saw one, and she wouldn't hesitate to use it if she needed to. He obviously sensed that about her. Good.

"Got references?"

"Nothing recent, but we've got ten years apiece from growing up on a ranch."'

"You're ex-cons," she surmised.

"You'd be right ma'am," he said "I gather you've made the rounds."

"Yes, we have."

"What makes you think I'll hire you when no one else will?" she asked.

"Cause no one else will work for you." The second man finally spoke up. His voice rolled out as deep as the well out back of her house.

Shivers ran down her spine. Something about him stirred her, and she knew right then and there two things about them. One, she was going to hire them, and two, they were going to cause her all sorts of trouble. But she was getting desperate for help, and Kenny, bless his heart, couldn't keep up.

She drew in a deep breath, then removed her hand from the rifle and climbed down out of the truck. She slammed the door then remembered her cut arm and cursed.

"d.a.m.n barbed wire." She jerked off her gloves and tossed them in the back of the truck to tend to later. "Might as well come in the house, and let's get some things straight," she said.

Drew walked around the truck and headed for the house. The two men fell into step behind her. The shorter of the two grabbed the screen door and opened it for her while the other man reached around her to open the wood door. She felt the heat from their bodies against the cooling sweat on her skin. Aw, h.e.l.l, what was she getting herself into?

She went through the living area into the eat-in kitchen and reached under the sink to pull out the first aid kit. The beat-up tin box had been well used over the years and more than usual recently with her working out on the range. She plopped it down on the table and opened it.

"Might as well sit down. We'll talk as I fix this mess." She grabbed a towel off the hook by the sink and sat down to tend to her wound.

"First off, what were you in for? Might as well tell me the truth, because I'm going to check it out."

"Manslaughter," the shorter of the two said.

She hesitated at cutting off the tape at that but refused to let it daunt her. She slid the scissors under the electrical tape and snipped. The towel fell open and the jagged cut began to bleed again. At least it was a trickle and not a gusher. Before she could grab the peroxide, the taller of the two grabbed it and opened the cap. He poured it over her arm, holding the towel beneath it to catch the flow.

"Both of you?" she asked.

"Yeah," the shorter one said.

"Okay, next thing is what are your names?" She was tired of thinking of them as taller and shorter.

The taller man dabbed at the cut with a clean edge of the towel. "My name's Marshall Gentry. That's Jeb Reigns."

"Okay, Jeb. Tell me the story from start to finish." She picked him because he hadn't spoken much and, truth be told, she loved the sound of his deep voice.

Marshall searched in her box for something then came up with a packet of sewing supplies.

"d.a.m.n it, does it need st.i.tches? Can't you just put on some of those b.u.t.tery-fly bandages?" she groused.

He grunted and shook his head. "If you were going to stick around the house and not do anything, maybe they would hold."

"h.e.l.l, how many does it need?" she asked.

"Looks like three."

"Use the d.a.m.n deadening stuff on it, and if either one of you say anything when I cry, I'll bust your b.a.l.l.s."

Marshall smothered a chuckle, but at a stern look from her, he contained it and got to work.

"Jeb, I don't hear you telling me how you both ended up killing someone," she said through gritted teeth.

"Wasn't sure I could get a word in edgewise, ma'am." He added the ama'am' at the last minute.

"Smart a.s.s. Talk." She winced when Marshall poked her with the deadening agent.

"We grew up together working on the same ranch in Texas. Started after school when we were fifteen and then full time once we graduated high school. We worked there for about six years before we moved up here. Heard there was plenty of land and thought we might be able to save up and buy some of our own one day. Got a job with old man Parker other side of Billings. We worked for him another four years before it happened."

"We'd been out drinking on a Sat.u.r.day night, like most weekends, and were on our way back to the ranch when Marshall had to pull over and take a-leak."

He'd obviously changed the word for her benefit. She wanted to laugh, except right then, Marshall stuck her, and she had to keep from cursing instead.

"He heard someone scream and yelled at me to come on. We took off running toward this abandoned house on the Millers' place. There was a light inside. It looked like they'd lit a fire in the fireplace. A wonder it hadn't caught the chimney on fire, as old as that place was.

"s.h.i.t, can't you go a little bit easier?" she yelped as tears slid down her face.

Marshall looked up and winced. "Sorry. Guess it isn't dead yet."

Jeb frowned at Marshall, and the other man shrugged.

"And?" she prompted Jeb in an attempt to take her mind off the pain.

"We heard grunting and a female crying. We went inside and found three guys raping a young woman from town. She'd gone out with one of them but ended up with three of them. Marshall and I didn't see as that was right. We pulled them off her, and that led to an all-out fight. One of them pulled a knife on me. It ended up in his gut. Marshall accidently broke another man's neck. We didn't plan to kill them. It just happened." Jeb closed his mouth then.

"What happened to the third one?"

"He testified we were both armed with knives, though they never found them," Marshall said. "He was convicted of aggravated a.s.sault and rape. He got three years and was out in sixteen months. We each got ten years for manslaughter, got out in eight. That was six weeks ago. We're still looking for work. It has to be somewhere close to a parole officer since we have to check in weekly for now."

"Okay, how is that now?" Marshall asked.

She looked down and found that he'd finished the three little st.i.tches that didn't look half bad.

"Put a little of that ointment on it, not much, then that Telfa pad for now. I'll take it off tomorrow. Need to let it close up some before I get it dirty again.

"I'd think you shouldn't get it dirty at all. What about your teta.n.u.s shot?" Marshall asked as he complied with the ointment and pad.

"Got one a few months back. This is my third set of st.i.tches. I'm going to look like Frankenstein's bride if I keep it up." She stood up and started to clean up the mess.

"Mind if I make some coffee?" Marshall asked.

She stopped and chuckled. "h.e.l.l no, make yourselves at home." She shook her head and closed the tin box then returned it to its place under the sink.

Drew watched as Marshall washed up then grabbed the pot and filled it full of water. Jeb searched out the filters and coffee and measured out enough for what looked like six cups. She sighed and walked over to the pantry to pull out the cookies she'd baked on Sunday. She had been sick of thinking about the ranch and all its problems at the time.

"Not time for dinner yet, so cookies will have to do you," she told them.

"Cookies would be great," Jeb said.

For the first time, his dark eyes lit up. She realized she could see both of their faces now and studied them as they went about fixing coffee and helping themselves to her cookies. Jeb had very short hair the color of ebony. She wondered, considering his dark skin and black hair, if he had Indian blood in him. Would he let it grow out now that he was out of prison?

Marshall's hair was a sable brown and stopped just shy of his collar. His eyes were a warm hazel with flecks of gold and green in them. Both men had narrow faces and dark skin, and both sported muscles, evidenced by the way they filled out their shirts. They'd probably hulked up in prison out of self-defense. For the first time, she wondered how they'd managed to live in prison and come out still having some manners.

"Okay, you're hired. Don't give me any trouble, and we'll get along fine. No fighting." When they started to say something, she raised her hand, and they closed their mouths.

"Your being out here and being ex-cons is going to raise some ruckus. Ignore it. I don't have a reputation worth saving anyway. So keep your fists to yourselves. I hear you're fighting, and you're fired. Got it?" she asked.

Both men nodded. Marshall pulled down mugs and filled three of them. He handed the first one to her. She walked back over to the kitchen table and sat down. They followed suit.

"So why are you running this place alone?" Marshall asked.

"I married a man who had cancer. He was dying and wanted children. I didn't manage to give him any, but he left the ranch to me anyway. So you see, I'm not an angel myself."

"Don't see what's wrong with that," Jeb said.

"The townsfolk feel I took advantage of a dying man and swindled him out of his ranch when it should have gone to his foreman."

"I suppose the foreman doesn't think too highly of you." Marshall took a sip of his coffee.

"Also, Kenny works here, too. You'll have to get along with him. I don't know how you feel about gay men, but he's gay, and he stays. I won't allow you to pick on him."

Marshall and Jeb exchanged odd glances then shrugged.

"Don't bother us. I guess you can imagine what kind of life we had behind bars," Marshall said.

Drew looked between the two of them and nodded. "We all get along out here, and we'll be fine. Winter will be coming up in another month, and I need to keep my herd alive through it. You help me do that, and you can share in the proceeds when they go to market."

Jeb looked at her as if she'd grown horns. "Share in the proceeds? What are you talking about?"

"I run this ranch for one reason, to have a home. I don't care about making a lot of money. As long as I can pay the bills and have a reserve for the unexpected things that can crop up, I'm happy. I split the profits between all of us outside the amount I have designated for the ranch. It isn't much, but you can start a savings with it."

"That's pretty d.a.m.n generous of you. I can't imagine no one wanting to work for you," Marshall said.

"I'm a woman, and they don't take orders from a woman. Kenny is here, and they don't cotton to gays. He stays. He's the only man who's helped me since Mark died."

"He's a good man, then," Jeb said.

They all sipped their coffee. Marshall and Jeb each grabbed a cookie. She figured she would spend more time cooking now with two strong men working the ranch. That was fine by her. She wasn't a tomboy at heart. She'd just turned into one by necessity. She loved the outdoors and riding the range and wanted a garden, but she could do without the fence duty and branding and some of the other stuff. If they were experienced, she was going to be in a lot better shape this winter than the last few. It had been nearly four years since Mark had died. She'd had to deal with the ranch for a year before he finally pa.s.sed, but the men stayed on until he died. Then, when she kept the ranch and didn't marry again right away, they left. She'd thought herself lucky to find Kenny but soon found that he was a double-edged sword. His being gay kept more men from working for her. Still, she wouldn't give him up for anything. He had helped her when no one else would.

There was a knock at the back door, and then it opened. "Drew? You okay?"

"Hey, Kenny, come on in." She heard him stomp off his boots in the back on the mud tray before he emerged from the washroom that served double-duty as the mudroom.

"Kenny, I'd like you to meet Jeb and Marshall. They're going to be working with us on the ranch."

Kenny eyed them then her arm. "h.e.l.l, you need st.i.tches again?" he asked, ignoring the two men.

"Marshall put three in. I'll live." She waited to see how he'd react. You'd never think Kenny was gay by looking at him. He was the epitome of cowboys everywhere. Slightly bowlegged, he chewed tobacco despite her fussing at him. He was a little over forty and wiry in size. He probably stood about the same height as Jeb.