Part 1 (1/2)

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 s.h.i.+rt 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 s.h.i.+rt, 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.

s.h.i.+vers 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.