Montana (Modern Mail Order Bride Book 2) (15 page)

Chad’s head nearly rolled off his neck as he leaned back in the chair, letting loose a gut busting laugh. Billy Joe found no humor in any of her words, uncertain if this was another one of her little games. “Honey, that is nothing you play around with,” he said softly.

“And you should be playing around with that preposition, English Man,” she said with a wink. It was the expression of hurt in his loving eyes at the thought of his wife offering a gift to his brother which should be only for him that prompted her next words.

“William, if anything should ever happen to you or me, it will be up to Chad to raise our children.  Our children will carry on the Johnson name.  Our children will take care of the Johnson land, but we need him in our lives and in theirs.  When I bring your son into this world, I need your brother to be at your side to understand the responsibility for little William is also on his shoulders,” she said as she turned to face Chad.

“Can I trust you with the life of my children, Chadwick Johnson?” she asked in a more threatening tone than she had planned.

“What if I don’t want that responsibility?” he asked her.

Pecola quietly sat, allowing her thoughts to fill the empty space in the room for a minute, choosing her words carefully. “Responsibility is coming your way whether you want it or not, Chad.  Here’s a question to you,” she said with a slight pause, “How often does your brother go for a swim in the lake?” she asked.

This question also grabbed Billy Joe’s attention.

“I have no idea,” Chad said dismissively.

“Well, someone else does.  Last week a bunch of debris was left where William usually dives into the lake, making us go further downstream.  Conveniently downstream where we came face to face with a very pissed off water moccasin,” she told him.

Chad exclaimed, “Water moccasins are not found in Montana, Pecola!” 

“Exactly my point. If someone is trying to kill your brother, who will get this land?” she said with no expression on her face. “Doing nothing doesn’t lessen your responsibility, because how many people are aware that you are not in the will, Chad?”

“Excuse me,” she said as she rose to clear the table.  The brothers were left alone to begin a long overdue conversation nearly five years in the making.

T
he new bed provided a more peaceful night’s sleep without each telltale sign that her husband was turning over.  It was even better when she had to get up several times to go to the bathroom because of the second cup of coffee over dinner, that she did not wake him. Not that it really mattered; each time Pecola slid back under the covers, Billy Joe’s arm was like a Vaudevillian hook, cast out, grappling and pulling her back to him. An extremely warm body snuggled close to her as soft exhalations of breaths caressed her cheek, lulling her back to sleep.

A silent house met her when she rose from the bed to a fresh pot of coffee waiting on the stovetop like a long lost friend. It had never occurred to her before leaving New York how empty her life actually had been.  Words were the only companion she had outside of the crazy blind neighbor Danessa who made herself a surrogate mother although no one ever asked her for any assistance. Many of the author friends that were at her side during her climb to fame fell to the wayside like autumn leaves when the pseudonym Montana Hart made the USA Today Bestseller’s list.  The indie author Montana Hart, now signed to a major publishing house, quickly made the New York Times Best Seller’s list.  Several of the close friends who used to be supportive now became snarky, if not combative when she called them to meet for coffee. Pecola found out the hard way that becoming famous was not all it was cracked up to be.  Most times she was alone on the top floor of a brownstone in Brooklyn, writing about wagon trains heading west to start a new life.

She had started a new life by heading west.  Eyeing herself in the mirror, a faint glow was on her skin and she saw a new woman looking back at her.  Gone was the shy little lady who hid behind her words.  A stronger woman stood in the kitchen of a 100-year-old ranch house that was now her home.  Friends, even at her new home in Montana were still lacking, with the exception of the lizard that snuck in between the cracks at the living room fireplace during the midday heat. 

“Good morning, Herman,” she greeted the little lizard who had shown up in the morning instead of the afternoon.  Common sense told her not to feed it, but a little leaf of kale wasn’t going to do him any harm. The crunch of tires on the gravel drive indicated she also had another visitor.

Pecola moved to the front window to peer from the curtain to see Avery arriving with a basket of what looked like fruit and baked goods.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she told her cousin-in-law as she opened the front door.

“Mama sent over some apples, oranges, and  fresh peaches since she knows Billy Joe is such a carnivore,” she said to Pecola.

“I’m just getting my day going. You want some coffee, eggs...,” she began to say when her cell phone rang.

“Pardon me for a minute,” she whispered to Avery. The cell phone in hand, a shaking finger slid across the screen.  Her agent’s face glaring at her with the same look of pity she saved only for Pecola.  “Montana Hart, how may I help you?”

“Montana, Heidi Strom here...great news! You have been nominated for the Frunkenberry Award!”  her agent yelled in the phone.

“That is wonderful news,” she said softly.

“The award ceremony is this Saturday, so I need you back in New York by Thursday.  I know you are going to need hair and make-up.  There are a lots of press and publicity shots, you will need to look your best,” she told her.

“Okay, but I will have a date,” she told her.

“You?  A date?”

“Yes, so I will need an extra ticket,” she said softly.

“And who is this date, if you don’t mind me asking?” Heidi said with some sarcasm in her voice.

“My husband, William.  Please send over a tailor on Friday morning to fit him for a tux for Saturday,” she said.  “Thanks, Heidi.” Pecola clicked off the line.

Avery, trying desperately to not eavesdrop, had been listening. “Wow, you are headed back to New York for the weekend?  I ain’t never left the state of Montana,” she said softly.

“You are welcome to come with us,” she said
us
with some hesitation. A sudden nervousness overcame her at the thought of Billy Joe coming with her to New York. In truth, it was perfect.  Many of the authors he would want to come to his writer’s ranch would be in that room on Saturday night.  If he was looking for an opportunity to pitch his idea, this would be a perfect time.

“Are you sure I ain’t gonna be in your way or a third wheel?”  Avery asked, her gray eyes searching Pecola’s face.

“No, I would love for you to come, hang out, and see my world,” she said. “Or rather my other world. Hey, why did you stop by this morning?”

Avery ran calloused fingers through her dark hair, eyes wide at her absentmindedness. “Oh shoot.  I came out to bring you...oh man, crap on a horseshoe,” she said as she ran back out to the beat up old Ford truck.  Instead of going to the driver’s side, Avery went to the passenger door to open it and take out what looked like a painting.

The painting came through the door first as she turned it around to face Pecola.  The image on the canvas stole her breath. It was a watercolor painting of her in Billy Joe’s arms on the dance floor at the barn raising.  Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the image.  Pecola used her knuckle to wipe away the salty droplet that ran down her cheek.

“This is beautiful, Avery.  I ...I love it. You painted...this is amazing,” she said, staring at the beautiful image.  She leaned the canvas against the wall too so that she could hug her new friend. “I will cherish this painting forever,” she said, staring at it.

“What do I owe you?” Pecola asked her.

Avery was shocked. “It is a gift.  A wedding gift for you and Billy Joe. I wouldn’t want you to give me money for it,” she told Pecola.

“I’m sorry.  I meant no offense,” she said.

“I would be more offended if you don’t get a cup of coffee in my hand,” Avery said with a smile.

“Sure thing.  One cup of coffee coming right up,” Pecola told her.

P
ap’s old eyes surveyed every movement Billy Joe made while the younger man unloaded bales of hay to feed the horses. In the past week, the foreman had seen a great deal of growth in Billy Joe, as well as a calmness in his spirit.  Seeing Chad back on the ranch was also a welcome sight.  The little spitfire of a woman Billy Joe chose as a wife seemed to be perfect for the man who stood before him now.  Pap didn’t have to worry as much about the boy being alone out here if anything should ever happen to him.  The word about the poisonous snake was also a concern.  Where there is one snake, there is always another.  The crew went up and cleared away the debris around the lake, finding only one shed skin, but it still freaked Pap out a bit.  Someone was trying to harm Billy Joe.  That didn’t sit well with him.

“Hey Pap, whatcha thinking so hard about?” Billy Joe asked him.

“Shit hell, that damned poisonous snake,” he said in a low voice.

“Yeah, that is a point of concern,” Billy Joe said as he continued to feed the horses.

“I garunbetcha it was that shady ass banker and his teetotaler racist preacher brother,” Pap said with a nod of his head.

“That’s a lot of adjectives, Pap.”

“There you go again with your fancy ass college talk, but like I said, shit hell, I knowin' betcha it was one of dem,” he said nodding his head again for punctuation. A lull came into the conversation.  “How is the little wifey, son?  Has she stopped passing out?”

Billy Joe’s face softened as he stood still in the middle of the corral. His lips twitched a bit at the corners, forming the beginning of a smile.
My wife
.

“Pap, I cannot believe how blessed I am,” he said going back to work.  In his head, he was counting down the number of bales it would take to feed the horses.  Mentally, he began to calculate how long it would take to get the hogs fed, and then it would be lunch time since the chickens were fed by one of the ranch hands.  He would be back in the house with her.  In a year, all the livestock would be gone with the exception of a few horses for riding.  It would be a different life for him, a happier life filled with a new purpose. Moreover, he would have time to enjoy his land. 
Hopefully, I can write
.

“Come back to me, Billy Joe,” Pap said. “You have wandered off in that head of
yourns
- where yer out playing with leprechauns or some shit.”

“I am in my kitchen having lunch with my lovely wife,” he said to Pap.

That was enough for the foreman.  He left Billy Joe alone with his thoughts.

“N
ew York!  As in this Thursday?  New York?  The plane ticket is going to be ridiculous, Pecola.  I don’t think I can afford to fly us to New York on such short notice, I mean that is going to be like five grand!” Billy Joe said as he ran his thick fingers through the dark hair.

“My agent has taken care of the tickets,” she lied to him.  “Avery is coming along as well, I hope that is okay.”

“You sure, Pecola?” 

“Yes, you will meet my agent Heidi on Thursday.  She’s sending someone over on Friday to do your tux fitting and maybe trim your hair a bit,” she told him.

“Avery normally cuts my hair. You don’t like it?”  he asked shyly.

Pecola sauntered over to her husband, her hand reaching up to touch his hair as her breast grazed across his arm, causing his pupils to dilate. 

“I love this hair.  It gives you such a rugged sexy look, but we are going to be taking a lot of photos.  The good news is that you will be in a room full of authors, so it will be a great time to make some contacts, pass out some business cards, and start spreading the word about your writer’s ranch that is opening next year,” she said.

A thought crossed her mind.  “Is there a local printer where we can get some quick cards made about the writer’s ranch opening next year, a quick and simple design...maybe?”

“I can call up to the college and get some done in 24 hours,” he said.

“Great! That will be a great start,” she told him.

“Wow,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her waist.  “This is really happening.”

“It is. Is there something else I can make happen for you?”

Billy Joe shifted his weight on his feet in the ratty socks that had seen better days. He pulled his wife gently to him, pressing the hardness of his need into her belly.

“I swear Pecola, you make a man feel all sorts of powerful when he stands next to you.  Honestly, I am wanting you so bad right now, it kinda hurts me,” he mumbled into the side of her neck.

A newfound boldness came to her as she reached in between them, unzipping his pants and taking him into her hands. 

“Good gracious,” he said as his fingers pressed into her skin. “Honey, if you keep jostling him around like that he is going to spit up all over those beautiful fingers.”