Hollister's Choice (Montana Miracles Book 2)

by Grace Walton

  “She probably is already pretty good, if what you say is true,” his companion commented.

  “Maybe, but what a real man wants is a lot more raw than what one of them pretty boy, college types is looking for.”

  “You got that right.”

  Hollister heard them keep up with their crude banter as they walked out towards a nearby holding pen to deposit the hay. Once his blood cooled a bit, he realized they were just telling the common kind of lies about women that some men relished. There was no way that the sweet innocent girl he’d left three years ago could have turned into some kind of man-eater. But something had caused the astonishing change in Maggie. And if she was telling the truth, it didn’t have anything to do with a man. And he’d still believe her over the bragging of a couple of random ranch hands. But he’d still investigate the rumors. And he’d make sure the two men he’d overheard were let go. Nobody got to talk like that about Magnolia Ferguson. Not while he was the ramrod.

  Or maybe it was better to just let her keep her secrets. He sure wanted to keep his. And after what had happened to him in the Middle East, there was no way he would ever be a fit match for any woman, let alone a sweet, treasure like Maggie. No, it was better to not turn over any rocks, so to speak. Who knew what kind of venomous snake you might find lurking underneath?

  Hollister thought his original plan was still the best one. He’d stay on the Black Knife Ranch until he was fully healed, then he’d find another job. One that would take him far away from Maggie, Montana Miracles, and the Black Knife Ranch. He shuddered anew when he thought of what she’d think of him if she knew where he’d been the last few years, and in what awful circumstances. Not even Gage knew the worst of it. Some things were just too deep for telling. And his time in the Middle East was one of them.

  “You ready to ride fence?” Gage’s voice boomed out behind him.

  Hollister turned and nodded. He didn’t say anything. He had too much on his mind.

  “Let’s saddle up. I thought you could brief me on where we’re at with that project you’ve been working on while we’re out on the range,” Gage said.

  The words were innocent enough. Hollister was familiar with the kind of code they used to speak of their other work. He knew what Gage wanted to know. And he would be glad to tell his boss all he’d learned. He just was not going to say anything about how much he’d had to pay to get the knowledge. Truthfully, he’d paid no higher a price than the women and girls who they were trying so hard to save. And it was worth it. He told himself every lash, scar, and humiliation was worth setting those poor captive females free. Even the worst of what he’d been forced into was worth the price.

  “You doing alright?” Gage asked.

  He inadvertently slapped Hollister’s back right over several healing wounds. The man didn’t flinch. That was another thing he’d learned from his caliphate capturers. It never paid to show anyone your weakness, because it could always be used against you. So Hollister didn’t show the sharp arc of agony that ran down his spine.

  “I’m good,” he said with notable ease.

  “I just thought, you know, maybe…” Gage mumbled.

  “I said I’m good.”

  “Yeah, I know what you said,” Ferguson agreed and nodded. “But if you’re still not at 100% I need to know. There’s a firestorm coming. We both see it. And we both know what it’s going to cost us. Before I let you stand at my side when the flames come down, I want to know you’re up to it. There’s no shame in sitting this one out, Hollister. Especially after what you’ve been through just to get the first group free.”

  “I’m in.”

  Gage’s sigh was gusty and frustrated. “I just don’t want you to get killed.”

  Hollister stopped, knowing they were alone he could speak freely. He turned and looked at his friend.

  Thinking that it wouldn’t matter much if he died because he was already dead inside, he answered honestly, “I’m good to go. And I want to nail those animals just as much as you do. It’s terrible thing when a woman doesn’t feel safe in her own home. We can do something to stop the trafficking. Right now we might be the only ones who can. Don’t ask me to sit here on the ranch while you and the others go finish something I started.”

  Gage reached for a saddle hanging from a nearby peg. He plucked it off the rough wall and slung it over his shoulder with notable ease. He was a big man and one who was used to hard physical labor. He was just like all the ex-military and alphabet organization guys who worked for Montana Miracles. They took the jobs the government had to pass on. They were all lethal and damaged in their own peculiar ways.

  Ferguson strode over to a stall and unlatched its door. Inside a massive dark horse snorted restlessly. The man murmured softly to ease the animal’s fears. He snapped the metal ring at the end of a short rope that dangled from a hook in the wall to the horse’s halter. Once the mount was secured, he carefully placed a saddle cloth and the saddle over the beast’s broad back. With a few economical moves, his horse was saddled. Sweeping one hand over the animal’s silky rump, he turned to speak.

  “I don’t know what happened to you out there in the desert. And if you don’t want to talk about it, I’m fine with that. But I can’t have you going rip-snorting, fire-breathing GI Joe when we’re in the thick of some delicate maneuver. I’m going to need you to be precise and cold, just like always. There’s no room for error.”

  Hollister went to fetch his own saddle and horse. Halfway down the dim barn he spoke quietly over his shoulder, “When have you ever known me to be anything less than professional?”

  Gage led his horse past the stall where Hollister stood saddling his mount. “Never,” he acknowledged. “You’re always, always the best man on the team. You can make a mark think you’re dumb as a rock or wily as a fox. You can charm women better than anyone I know. And you can lead men like you were born to it. But this time is different. This time, this time I get the sense that it’s personal.”

  “You’re the boss. Just say the word and I’m off the team,” was all the other man said by way of an answer.

  After that acerbic comment he led his horse out into the sunshine. With a graceful move, Hollister was in the saddle. He reined his mount around to face Gage who stood glaring up at him.

  “You coming?” Hollister asked with the arch of an arrogant eyebrow.

  He looked like a king addressing his court. The irritation the gesture caused Gage was quite apparent. Ferguson balled up his fists, even the one holding the reins of his gelding. He rocked back on the well-worn heels of his expensive boots and shot the other man a mean look.

  “Sometimes I really don’t like you,” he drawled.

  Hollister’s cocky smile added fuel to the fire of his boss’s ire. “Just sometimes?” he prodded the other man.

  “Naw, it’s pretty much all the time,” Ferguson admitted as he climbed into his saddle.

  “Yeah, well, it’s always good to know where you stand,” Hollister said as he set the horse into a slow lazy lope.

  Gage urged his mount to keep up. “We’re not done talking about this, Hollister.”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  “Personal revenge is not what this mission’s about.”

  “It’s only revenge if it’s not deserved.”

  “So what do you call it?” asked Gage.

  “Bad Karma for them?” Hollister’s lips twisted into a mocking grin.

  The older man rolled his eyes. “So you’re saying you’re above the law now?”

  “No.”

  “You’re going into a foreign country where you’ll rain hellfire and destruction down on a civilian militia, evil though it may be. You don’t call that acting above the law?”

  “No.”

  “What do you call it?” demanded Gage.

  “Justice.”

  Chapter Two

  “I just, I just can’t be here right now,” Maggie said through stiff lips as she hastily packed her bags.


  Her bedroom was a disaster area. There were clothes strewn on every surface. The high tester bed with its white hand-worked Parisian lace duvet was buried under a pile of drab jumpers and equally ugly plain white blouses. Carrie privately thought it looked like a contingent of female missionaries from the eighties were preparing to enter the mission field.

  Granted she’d once been a famous super model, so fashion was still very important to her. Her glorious mane of gold-shot red hair and her perfect features still made her the ultimate clothes horse for designers. When she’d first come to Montana, it’d been hard to disguise her beauty for the Witness Protection folks. Thick glasses, dowdy clothing, and tightly braided hair had been the least of her disguises, back in the day. So she’d seen her fair share of truly hideous apparel. But this, this assortment of charity bin clothing was the worst she’d ever seen.

  Even years ago, when she’d been in Witness Protection and hiding from a drug lord, she’d dressed better than Maggie did now. And that was saying a lot. Because when she’d been masquerading as a public school kindergarten teacher, she’d been made to look as frumpy as possible. Thank goodness Gage had seen through her disguise.

  “Mags, maybe we ought to pray about this trip,” Carrie begged.

  She loved her young sister-in-law. And she knew why the girl felt like she needed to run. But it never solved anything. Running away just postponed facing what you were afraid of. And, in the end, it just complicated matters. She knew this from her own hard-won personal experience. She’d almost lost the love of her life because she thought it was better to hide from her circumstances than face them.

  The tall black-haired young woman balled up a homely pair of cotton granny-type underwear in her trembling hands. She bit her lip and took a big breath.

  “You don’t understand, Carrie,” she whispered in despair.

  “Maybe I don’t,” acknowledged the older woman. “But I know for a fact running away is not going to solve any of your problems. And honey, nobody knows that better than me.”

  Maggie nodded. She flopped down on the bed without a smidgeon of her usual grace. She stared up at the fancy plastered ceiling with the look of a condemned man.

  “I think Hollister knows,” she said in a dull voice of defeat.

  “What?” Carrie asked confused. “Hollister knows what?”

  Maggie turned over and hid her face in the soft expensive lace of the bed clothes. “I think he knows about…about…” She couldn’t make herself say the words aloud.

  Carrie’s face softened in sympathy. She knew how this tender girl felt. Anybody with half a brain and two good eyes knew that Magnolia Ferguson was in love with Hollister. And she had been since Carrie first met her. Probably even before then. But some loves were not meant to be. And anything more than friendship between the innocent sister of Carrie’s husband and the hard-bitten mercenary was out of the question. Discounting the fact that Maggie was a believer and Hollister was the worst sort of cynic, there was a considerable age difference. And the man had secrets. More than just a few. Being able to adopt the mannerisms, appearance, and speech of others made him a good actor. But she was certain there was more to his elaborate ruses than met the eye.

  The first time she’d met him, Hollister was posing as a blond surfer. He’d been all shaggy beach hair, washboard abs, and West Coast slang. He’d strung women along like they were pawns in some elaborate game he was playing.

  When Gage had married her and brought her back to the Black Knife Ranch, she’d seen an alarming transformation in Hollister. The charming, rakish beach bum had become a cold-eyed, unemotional professional soldier. It was unsettling to say the least. She didn’t want that kind of man for her young, inexperienced sister-in-law.

  “I think he knows about my accident,” Maggie murmured.

  Carrie sighed. “It wasn’t an accident, sweetie. You were assaulted by a drunk.”

  “But it was my fault. I went out with him. I let him take me home. I could have driven my own car to the restaurant.”

  “Mags, we’ve been over this so many times,” Carrie said carefully as she sat on the bed beside the distraught girl. “You did nothing wrong. Didn’t the Christian counselor Gage took you to tell you that?”

  The black-haired girl nodded.

  “Sweetie, you’ve got to believe you weren’t in the wrong. You’ve got to start setting it all aside. You’re too young to let this haunt you your whole life. There’s a big world out there, Mags. One that you should be enjoying. Don’t let the actions of a drunken frat boy cheat you out of the life you deserve.”

  “He’s in jail.” Maggie sat up to face her sister-in-law and friend.

  “He’s a fortunate kid,” Carrie said. “Gage wanted him dead for what he did to you.”

  Maggie shuddered reliving the events of that night, and the violence of the attack. Just thinking about the fact that Chase Brown would be out of prison soon made her anxious. It was another good reason to go to London.

  “I need to get away,” Maggie said again. She got up and resumed her packing.

  “There’s no shame in Hollister knowing what happened to you.”

  “Promise you won’t tell him,” the girl begged with terrified eyes. “Promise you’ll make sure nobody on the ranch tells him.”

  Carrie nodded. She didn’t think it was a good idea, but what else could she do? “I won’t. And I don’t think Gage will either. We know how you feel about your privacy. But Cerise, well, I’m not exactly sure what your mother will do. She’s very protective of you.”

  “Mama won’t say anything. She won’t even talk about it with me. I know. I’ve tried to tell her what Chase did to me, but she can’t stand to hear it. She just ignores me or changes the subject. Lately she’s even used little Hawk as an excuse.”

  “What?” Carrie was shocked. She knew her formidable mother-in-law loved to spend time with the toddler. Her son was going to be a heartbreaker one day. With her famous eyes and his father’s arresting features and jet black hair, he already had all the maids at the ranch wrapped firmly around his little finger.

  The fact that Cerise Ferguson was so adept at avoiding the painful subject of her daughter’s assault was a great disappointment to Maggie. She’d hoped her own mother might be the one person in whom she’d be able to confide. But that hadn’t happened. Cerise was so ashamed and embarrassed by what had transpired; she couldn’t bear to hear it spoken of by anyone.

  And that had made it all the harder for Maggie. If her own mother thought she was tainted or somehow now damaged beyond redemption, how was she to face the world? Even going to church was an agony. Maggie was more than aware of the sideways looks and the whispering whenever she walked into the sanctuary.

  What made it worse was the fact that the Browns attended the same house of worship as did the Fergusons. Chase’s parents defended his innocence to anyone who would listen. According to their version of the story, their son was just an innocent dupe who fell into the clutches of the rich, pampered, and spoiled heiress to the Black Knife fortune.

  Over the course of the first few months after the incident, Maggie lost all her friends at church and in the close-knit community. Since she’d never defended herself, and she’d not testified against Chase. Everyone speculated that she was guilty of what the gossip claimed she’d done to tempt a poor, scholarship rodeo kid.

  “You could tell me,” Carrie said. “I promise not to turn away. Nothing you could tell me would change the fact that you’re my sister and my friend.”

  Maggie smiled, though it didn’t reach her haunted eyes. “No, the best thing is for me to go to London and work in the church’s mission office there. Pastor Gentry offered me the job some time ago. I’ve just been trying to decide whether to take it or not.”

  “And that’s truly what you want?” Carrie asked.

  The girl nodded. “I do. I feel called to work with the poor. And most folks don’t realize what a fertile mission field Europe is right now.”
r />   “There’s a lot of poverty in Great Britain. And there’s also a lot of unbelief.”

  “Pastor Gentry says it’s one of the most unchurched places on Earth,” Maggie agreed.

  “I don’t mean to be ugly,” Carrie prefaced what she was about to say. “But do you think you’re ready for that kind of environment, Mags?”

  The older girl asked because she’d once been in that place. The fashion world was a hard proving ground for an innocent. If it hadn’t been for her vigilant father, she might have ended up in a much different life. And that same vigilance had been the cause of his death.

  Carrie worried for her naïve sister-in-law. Thrown into a new and more liberal culture would be hard on the girl. And she would have no bulldog of a dad to watch over her.

  “I hope so, I pray so,” Maggie said.

  “But, sweetie, you’ve lived a pretty protected life here on the ranch.”

  The tall girl nodded. “I know. And I guess I think it’s time to change that. I’m twenty-one, Carrie. It’s time and past for me to get a job and begin making my way in the world.”

  The red-headed woman laughed. “Make your way? You’re richer than the monarchs of some countries, Mags. There’s no need for you to do this.”

  “It’s about more than just the money,” Maggie said as she retrieved the granny panties and smoothed out the wrinkles in the durable cotton underclothing.

  “I know,” Carrie nodded to punctuate her words. “You’re running.”

  Maggie opened her mouth to refute what her sister-in-law said. But she stopped when she realized that, in a sense, she was running.

  “You think that changing your location is going to make your life different?” The red head smiled. “And it might, for a day or two. But the truth is you can’t outrun yourself. And you sure can’t outrun what God has planned for you. It always amazes me how we deceive ourselves into thinking we’re in control of our lives. When really the truth is, God controls pretty much everything. He’s omnipotent.”

  “God is in control of everything, Carrie,” the girl said. “I know that. And I’ve surrendered to Him, more times now than I can count.”