Hollister's Choice (Montana Miracles Book 2)

by Grace Walton

  Maggie knew she was trapped. He easily outweighed her by one hundred pounds. And it was all muscle. She was no physical match for Chase Brown.

  As the man slipped into his seat and revved the truck’s motor he grinned down at her. She cowered back, though she hadn’t meant to do any such thing. She was done being scared. But her natural instinct was to avoid being close to him.

  “Aww, don’t pull away like that,” he crooned. “Anybody would think you’re not happy to see me.”

  “I’m not,” she said honestly.

  “You should be,” he answered as he put the truck in gear and gunned it down the road. “Cause we’ve got lots of unfinished business between us. You know, stuff we need to settle.”

  “There’s nothing we need to settle,” she said through stiff lips. “And there’s certainly nothing between us.”

  He laughed. “You’re still just as much of a firecracker as you always were. You know, you left your mark on me?” He rolled up his sleeve to show her a long scarred line. It began at his wrist and went all the way up to his elbow. “You marked me good.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She was sorry she’d hurt him. Even if he’d gotten those scars from her when she was just a young girl who was just trying to defend herself, they must have been painful.

  “Don’t be,” he boasted. “It was a badge of honor in the lockup. To an exclusive group of guys in there, rape is sort of a minor stepping stone to bigger things. Made me accepted, made me part of the gang. I’ve got you to thank for that.”

  “You didn’t rape me,” she denied him.

  He nodded. “Maybe not. But they didn’t know that. And I sure wasn’t going to tell them. Besides, I did enough.” He smacked his wide lips. “I still remember the taste of that sweet mouth of yours. And that pearly skin, mmm…mmm. You’ve got the prettiest little…”

  “Stop,” she screamed. “Just stop.” She was shaking and she didn’t know why. Except that his words were bringing it all back. She was reliving every ugly brutal moment.

  “Nah,” he shook his head. “There ain’t going to be no stopping this time, baby. I been counting the days till I got out. I been acting like a real good boy so they’d cut them down. I been writing my folks letters full of remorse and the almighty love of Jesus. I fooled them all. And I did it just so I could get back to you.”

  “I don’t want you,” Maggie spat out.

  “Well, see, that don’t matter a whole lot. I still got my bet to win.”

  “Bet?” she asked confused.

  “Yeah,” he said as he hooted in laughter. “You didn’t know? I made sure your big brother knew all about it. I was sure he’d pass on the details to you. Guess he was trying to spare you feelings. Don’t that beat all? Like I said, this whole shooting match started on a bet. You don’t think a guy like me would ask out a little mouse like you for nothing, do you?”

  “A bet,” she repeated faintly.

  “Yeah, every guy on the football team wanted to get to you. We knew you were the last hold-out. I mean, we’d all done the rest of the chicks. But you, you were a challenge, so pure and lily white. That made you special. That and the added spice that your brother would beat the crap out of any guy who even looked at you the wrong way. So the deal was I had to do you. Then I had to take some real good cellphone shots to prove it. I got the pictures, but I just lacked an inch or two of getting the real prize.”

  “You’re disgusting,” Maggie whispered.

  “Nah, you got that all wrong. I was going to make it good for you, Baby. You’d have liked it,” he bragged.

  “I ended up in the hospital.”

  “Yeah, well…” he said and had the grace to look shamefaced. “That was my fault. I shouldn’t have drunk so much before we went parking. I apologize for that. I just lost it when you started fighting back. A little spit and vinegar in a girl’s one thing. But all that caterwauling and scratching you were doing is something else. You should’d just laid there nice and quiet. Then you wouldn’t have made me hurt you.”

  Maggie knew then that he was crazy. She was sitting, a prisoner in this truck, in the middle of a snow storm, with a lunatic. She silently prayed for rescue. But she knew that was a longshot. So she decided she’d keep him talking. At least while he was talking, he wasn’t doing anything physical to her.

  “What about all those pictures you put out on the internet?”

  He scowled. “That wasn’t me, and I sure don’t appreciate your brother suing me and my folks about all that.”

  “You didn’t post them?”

  “I thought you was smart, Maggie. How in the world do you think I could have put them out when the law took my phone when they put me in jail?” He grimaced at the white windshield. “No, putting all that stuff out on social media wasn’t me. My fool friends stole my phone from my parents’ house and thought it’d help my case if the pictures were out there for anyone to see. Dumb suckers.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah, I’m sorry that happened. Those pictures were supposed to be private. You know, just for me and the guys on the team.”

  Maggie almost wanted to laugh. And if her situation hadn’t been so dire, she might have done just that. Chase Brown could apologize for inappropriate Facebook posts, but he thought she was responsible for putting herself in the hospital. She looked over at him and she noticed for the first time that he looked very pale. And he was sweating. The temperature in the car was warmer than outside, but it wasn’t hot by any means.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  The question surprised her. Why should she care if this man was sick? He intended to rape her.

  “Huh?” he asked looking at her with wild eyes.

  “I just wondered if you were sick. You’re white as a sheet and sweat is pouring down your face. You look like you’re not well.”

  “I’m fine,” he snapped.

  “OK, if you say so,” she backtracked as quick as she could. She didn’t want the crazy man to turn on her.

  “I’m just fine,” he said again. But the way he swiped at the perspiration on his face showed that he was lying.

  “I think I’ve got some aspirin in my coat,” she offered. Again, she had no idea where all this kindness and concern was coming from.

  “It won’t help,” he said. “I’ve got a little… a little drug problem.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, I got hooked on some stuff in prison and now I’m having a hard time scoring it on the street.”

  “So you’re detoxing?”

  “Kinda,” he said. “If I can just get a hit of my regular stuff, I’ll be OK. That’s why I was out on the road. I’m supposed to meet a guy.”

  “Out here?” she asked skeptically.

  “Yeah, just down the road at an old gas station. Once I get my hit, I’ll be fine. I’m going to leave you locked in the truck when we get there. Don’t try to run. Once I get what I need, I’m taking you home with me.”

  “To your folks’ house?” she asked aghast. Surely he wasn’t so wasted that he thought that would work?

  “Yeah, why not?’ he challenged her. “They hate you as much as I do. They won’t say nothing. So you can forget about getting them to help you.”

  Unfortunately, she knew he was telling the truth. Mr. And Mrs. Brown had smeared her name at the church. They’d told lies about her to anyone who would listen. She had no doubt they’d turn a blind eye when their precious son walked in their door dragging her behind him. It was amazing to Maggie how some folks could claim to be Christians, even pillars of the church community, and do such things.

  “Chase,” she tried to get his attention. But now his eyes were glassy. His hands clenched the truck’s steering wheel as if it was a lifeline.

  “Chase,” she spoke louder. He still ignored her.

  “Chase Brown!” the girl shouted.

  Finally he turned to look at her. “Huh?” he grunted.

  Maggie was frightened at the new pallor of his
face. Before she got a chance to speak, he slumped over the steering wheel. The truck careened from one side of the icy road to the other. She grabbed the steering wheel and pulled it as hard as she could. That set the truck into a rapid spin in the middle of the two-lane black top. Maggie realized she was crying. She couldn’t catch her breath. It took a few seconds before she could get a firm grasp on her adrenaline jazzed emotions. When she did, she looked carefully at the big man who’d passed out next to her.

  With a trembling hand she shoved at his beefy shoulder. He made no sound. She watched him carefully before pressing two cold fingers to his throat. She tried to find a pulse. Thankfully there was one. Brown was alive, but his pulse was shallow and erratic.

  Maggie had no idea if losing consciousness and heart arrhythmia were symptoms of drug withdrawal. But she knew it would be up to her to get them both somewhere safe and warm. The irony of her present situation did not escape her. She was going to be the one to save Chase Brown’s life. She sighed, thankful that God had provided a way for her to do just that.

  It took her awhile, but she was able to shove and drag the big man across into her seat. She turned the ignition off and stilled the grinding motor. Releasing all the door locks and being careful to take the keys with her, she got out of the truck and made her way over to the driver’s side. She started the truck back up and carefully drove off in the direction of the nearest ranch.

  It took her almost an hour to creep along the snowy road. At last she saw the drive for the ranch. Thankfully the private road wasn’t paved. It was easier for the truck to make its way on the frozen dirt than on the slick icy asphalt. When she brought the vehicle to a stop right by the ranch house door, she turned to Brown.

  “Chase?” she yelled into his ear. “Chase wake up! There’s no way I can carry you into the house. You need to wake up!”

  Maggie shook him as hard as she could. He remained still and unresponsive. She decided the best thing she could do was to get help. So she got out of the truck. The freezing wind sliced through her. She wished she had her heavy duty gloves because her fingers instantly cramped with the cold. Slogging her way up to the door got her shoes and jeans soaking wet.

  She stood on the small stoop and pounded on the door for all she was worth. A light came on somewhere in the house. She could see its dim glimmer through the lacy curtains of the living room. With a swell of relief she stood shivering waiting for the door to open. Thank goodness someone was there. The smile on her face died an instant death when she saw the man who opened the door.

  “Hollister?” she groaned. “What are you doing here?”

  A lopsided grin settled over his face. That was more than odd because the man was almost stingy with his smiles. And this one looked none to sober. Which was also crazy because as far as she knew, Hollister never drank hard liquor.

  Mag…no…lia?” he drew her name out in a sing-song fashion. He leaned heavily against the door frame.

  “Hollister, are you drunk?” she asked. It was a perfectly acceptable question, especially given the circumstances and his appearance.

  His grin deepened. “Maybe.”

  “What are you doing here? I thought you’d be at the Black Knife. I was on my way to find you.”

  “You were?” he slurred. “Well, it looks like you’ve been successful in your pursuit.”

  Maggie frowned. He didn’t even sound like the Hollister she knew. He sounded like some British lord out of a costume drama. He sounded exactly the same he had a few times in London.

  “Hollister, I need help,” she said deciding to overlook his obvious inebriation.

  He slapped a hard hand over his heart and looked at her in a deadly serious way. “I would do anything for you Blackbird. I’d die for you.”

  And suddenly he looked a great deal more sober than she’d thought him to be. In fact, he looked down right somber.

  “Great, well…,” she mumbled embarrassed by his vulnerability. “You see, I’ve got Chase Brown in the truck,”

  Hollister pushed her out of the way and strode through the deep snow drifts as if they were nothing more than vapor over a meadow on a foggy morning.

  “Hollister?” Maggie tagged after him confused. “Hollister?”

  “Be with you in a minute, Blackbird. I need to kill him.” It was said in an almost conversational way.

  She gasped and grabbed his arm. “No, wait, you don’t need to kill Chase.”

  “Yeah, I do.” His head swiveled over to pin her where she stood. “He hurt you. I’ve got to kill him.”

  “Hollister, no!” she strengthened her grip and leaned into his big body.

  Suddenly she found herself gathered to his chest. His arms pinned her to his body. This time her voice was not so assertive. “Hollister?’ she whispered. “What are you doing?”

  It was an amazing fact that if any other man had made such a direct and bold move, she’d have run away screaming. She was just learning to tolerate Dan’s uninspiring kisses. Her responses to his wooing had been tepid at best, a fact that had made their courtship awkward. But in Hollister’s arms she felt safe, warm, and very aware of her femininity.

  “I love you,” he said into her hair. “I don’t want to, but I do. And it’s killing me. Because, you and me, it just won’t work. If you knew who I was… if you knew what I was, you’d run away screaming. I’m broken, Blackbird. And nothing can fix me.”

  “Oh Hollister,” she whispered.

  These were the words she’d been waiting forever to hear. Since she’d fallen in love with this man as a teenager, she’d been longing to hear him say he loved her. But now those words came with a caveat. Not only was he suffering from PTSD, he was drunk. Once he sobered up, and if he only knew exactly why they could never be together, he’d be the one to run away. Life had never seemed more unfair.

  “Hollister, listen,” she placed her cold hands on either side of his rough-hewn face. She forced him to look into her eyes. “I promise I’ll not hold you to anything you’re saying right now. If we’re both lucky, you won’t even remember this night. But right now, I need your help. Chase is very, very sick.”

  “He deserves to be sick. He deserves to suffer.” He rested his forehead against hers. “He hurt you.”

  “Yes, he did. I’m trying very hard to forgive him,” she said. “And we’re not the ones who get to decide what he deserves. God is the only one who can do that. If we all got what we truly deserved, we’d all be in Hell. So let’s not waste time talking about Chase and what he deserves. Right now we’ve got to get him inside. If the landline is still working, I need to call the EMT’s. Chase needs to go to the hospital, Hollister. But since the roads are impassable, I need to speak to someone who can tell me how to help him until we can get him there.”

  “Let him stay in the truck and freeze.”

  The big man stumbled back. He looked to be headed back into the house. Swirls of heavy snow danced around him like a whirlwind. Maggie grimaced. It was clear Hollister was much more bloodthirsty than she’d ever known.

  “John Hollister, you come back here right this minute and help me,’ she shouted at his back as he shambled towards the ranch house.

  “No,” he yelled over his shoulder.

  “Yes,” she screamed back.

  He stopped, stood to his full impressive height, and slogged back up to her. He leaned down so she could hear him clearly. “I’ll do it, for you. But I’m still going to kill the bugger. Once he’s well, I intend to pull his spine out through his chest.”

  Maggie gulped. She could have done without that alarming visual. And the cold-blooded way his voice and face turned.

  “We’ll talk about that later,” she said faintly. “Can you help me get him out of the truck?”

  “Yeah,” Hollister said as he jerked the vehicle’s door open. With amazing ease he hoisted Brown over one shoulder and tilted his chin towards the house. “Go open the door,” he ordered.

  Maggie wasn’t sure, but she thought t
he cold might be bringing him to his senses. She sure hoped so. Dealing with a comatose Chase Brown was one thing. But the added need to placate Hollister was another thing altogether. She ran ahead. When she grabbed the door handle she also quickly prayed that God would leave Hollister with no memory of this night.

  Once Hollister dropped Brown onto the sofa in the threadbare living room, he plopped down on a nearby ratty recliner. Maggie noticed the whole interior of the old house looked very Spartan and sorely in need of cleaning. The smell of mold and mildew were heavy in the air. But a fire crackled in the fireplace. And there was an old greasy looking phone on a small table by the recliner.

  Thankfully, when she picked up the receiver, there was a dial tone. She immediately dialed 911 and waited for the emergency operator to answer. Once the man was on the line, Maggie explained the situation. He confirmed there was no way the EMT’s could get to them. And he suggested she watch Chase carefully, but let him sleep. There was no way of knowing exactly what drug he’d been taking, or how far along he was in his withdrawal. With so little information, the best they could do was hope his body would maintain itself until the roads cleared enough for an emergency vehicle to come to their aid. She hung up the phone with a heavy heart.

  “I’m going to make some coffee,” she said.

  Hollister didn’t respond. He was sitting in the big recliner staring into the flickers in the fireplace. When she came back a few minutes later with two mugs of hot coffee, he was still staring.

  “Here, you should drink this,” she passed a thick mug to him.

  “Are you hoping it’ll sober me up?” he asked in a completely rational fashion.

  The girl nodded. She sat on the floor by the fire. “I am,” she admitted.

  “Maybe that would be a bad thing,” he said as he took a scalding sip from the mug.

  “Why?” she asked.

  She watched him steadily. She’d never seen him so vulnerable. She’d never chanced to think he could be so emotionally exposed. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. Hollister was always her rock. He was everyone’s anchor. He was impervious to pain, or so she’d thought. This was a new side to him. And she wasn’t quite sure how to process the change.