by Grace Walton
A solitary tear made its frozen progress down Maggie’s pale cheek. Her stifled whimper of pain must have alerted them. Dan’s head whipped up. His face became a mask of horrified shame. He shoved the straining Fiona away from his body. He reached out a beseeching hand to his fiancée.
Fiona turned to see what was going on. She gasped in dismay. She stepped back from the man who’d so recently been kissing her like a desperate lover.
Maggie dashed at the tears on her face with one gloved hand. She looked at the couple. Her beautiful face was a study in pain, betrayal, and rejection. Without a word, she turned to leave.
“No wait,” Dan yelled.
He ran up to her. He grabbed her arm. He held tight when she would have pushed past him.
“Wait, Maggie, wait please,” he panted. “Give me a chance to explain.”
“Explain?” the girl said woodenly.
“Yes, this isn’t what you think,” he pleaded.
“What?” Maggie was confused.
She was more than hurt, she was devastated. She’d thought they’d have a good, if uninspiring life together. She’d dreamed of serving in Dan’s ministry. When her life had fallen apart, it was the one thing she’d known for sure. The one constant. But she’d been wrong. She’d been so very wrong. It was clear he didn’t want her. Dan Gentry wanted Fiona Cooper, the newborn believer whom Maggie had thought to save. No wonder Dan had seemed so unconcerned when she’d confessed the kiss she’d shared with Hollister. Why should he care if she’d kissed another man? He’d been embroiled in hidden sin of his own. What a joke. What a horrible, awful joke.
“Fee and I…” he stopped.
Part of Maggie waited patiently to hear Gentry’s explanation. Another part just wanted to walk away. If she kept walking long enough and far enough, maybe at some point, she’d lose herself entirely. It sounded like a good plan. Oblivion was better than this awful, searing agony.
She stood there dead to her surroundings. Even the tears she’d shed were drying. Nothing was left.
“Fee and I…” Gentry tried to explain the unexplainable once more. He didn’t get very far.
“Why?” Maggie managed to get the one word past her numb lips.
The pastor blushed. He looked ashamed. His faithlessness revealed.
“How long?” Maggie asked another pertinent question. “How long have you and she…” The black-haired girl made a helpless motion with one of her hands.
Dan closed his eyes. But he summoned some strength of character. He answered her honestly, “Since the week after you brought her home with you.”
“That long?” Maggie whispered bleakly.
Her mind rebelled with memories of how she’d mentored Fiona when they’d arrived back in Montana. She’d given the woman a job, unconditional support, and her trust. Maggie felt so stupid.
“We just, we just couldn’t help it,” Dan pleaded his case.
Surprisingly, Maggie believed he was telling the truth. But she didn’t agree with his logic. There was always a choice. And he and Fiona were responsible for their actions. The sordid truth was that this young eager preacher was just as fallible as was any other person.
“If you’d ever felt this way about somebody, you’d understand.” The man dug the hole of his guilt deeper by placing the blame on someone else, on her.
If her circumstances hadn’t been so tragic, Maggie would have laughed. He actually was trying to find fault with her in this ugly situation.
Gentry kept up his stream of excuses, “It’s not as if we actually loved each other. We both knew something was missing in our relationship. I think it’s a mercy this happened.”
“A mercy?” she repeated aghast at his callous attitude.
He nodded vigorously. “Yes, a mercy, because think what a mistake we would have been making.”
“You’re calling our engagement a mistake?’ Her words were soft and hollow.
“Of course,” he bulled on unaware of the further wounds he was inflicting. “It was just a temporary commitment, nothing more.”
“I was prepared to spend my whole life with you,” Maggie whispered. “I was going to be the perfect helpmeet.”
“There, you see?” he crowed triumphantly. “God, in His mercy, has spared us both.”
“Run away, like the parsimonious rat you are, before I commit murder right here in the street,” Hollister ordered from somewhere behind Maggie.
She whipped around. She was astounded to see him. But once she took a closer look, she was horrified by what she saw. Not only did the man look murderous, he looked as if he might collapse at any moment. He was so tired looking. There were deep shadows under his haunted eyes. The lines along the sides of his mouth were highlighted by a dark scruff of beard. It made his face look stark and lethal. He was dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and scuffed old boots. Where was his coat, she wondered idly?
“I’m just trying to explain to Magnolia,” Gentry started whining again.
“You’re not fit to even say her name,” Hollister derided. “I’ll give you one more chance to save your life. Run.”
Dan must have seen the danger in the other man’s eyes because he quickly began to back up. “If you’d leave, Maggie and I can sort all this out. It’s not that big of a deal.”
A strangled sob tore, involuntarily, from the girl’s throat. Not that big of a deal? Dan Gentry had skewered her poor battered heart once more. Not only had he cheated on her with a woman she’d come to call a friend, he now humiliated her in front of the only man she’d ever love. Could her complicated life get any worse?
“I’ll show you a big deal,” rasped out the tormented man standing a few feet away.
Hollister took several threatening steps towards the clergyman. His fists were balled up and ready. It was clear he wanted to hurt Dan Gentry and hurt him badly.
“No, Hollister, don’t.” Maggie deftly inserted her body between the two men. “He’s not worth it. You don’t need this on your soul.”
The taller man stopped. He smiled down at her. He shook his head. The gesture chilled her to the bone.
“It’s my life and my choice.”
“Hollister, please, walk away, I’m begging you to just walk away.”
“He hurt you, Blackbird,” the big man said woodenly.
“Yeah, he did,” she agreed. “But maybe he’s right?”
“I’m right?” Dan squeaked in terror.
Maggie turned to him. All at once she realized she was glad she wouldn’t be married to him. Beside Hollister, Dan Gentry looked like a pasty, pale imitation of a man. His stooped posture and bland looking features were not inspiring. And about his twisted character, there was no doubt. He left a lot to be desired. And suddenly she was more concerned about Hollister and the state of his mind than she ever was about the pastor.
“Yes, Dan,” she said. “I think we both had a narrow escape. I always knew I didn’t feel the way I should about you. I let my idealism and naiveté convince me I was doing something noble, sacrificial even. The truth is I was following my own intellect instead of God’s will. I’d figured it all out without consulting the Lord. Our marrying would have been a huge mistake.”
“Now wait just a minute,” he huffed. “Are you trying to say I’m not good enough for you?”
Maggie should have been surprised at the depth of his hubris. But she honestly wasn’t. Dan had always been a shallow, if well-intentioned man.
“I’m saying it,” Hollister asserted. “Magnolia Ferguson is so far out of your league you aren’t even in the same universe.”
“Hollister, don’t” Maggie said weakly.
“I always knew you were nothing but one of Ferguson’s paid killers,” Dan sneered. He’d apparently forgotten his life was in mortal danger.
“Yeah, you’ve got me pegged,” Hollister said as he leaned closer. His movement was smooth, graceful, and economical. Like a big cat’s. His hand was reaching around to find the knife he’d tucked in a hidden scabbard. “I’m just a
cold-blooded killer,” he agreed.
“Wait…,” the boyish pastor sputtered. “You misunderstood me, what I meant was…”
“Oh, I know what you meant,” Hollister said.
“Hollister, no.”
Maggie shoved at his wide chest. He immediately stepped back. He blinked his eyes a few times to focus them on her. He lowered the hand that had been searching for his blade. He took several long, hard breaths.
“Dan, I think you’d better leave,” she said to the trembling young man.
Gentry gulped like a goldfish and nodded. Then he turned to scurry off back down the sidewalk.
The breath Maggie had unwittingly been holding released. She turned her entire attention to the big silent man in front of her. To say she was embarrassed about everything that had transpired was a massive understatement. She was both embarrassed and heartsick over the betrayal she’d experienced. And, now more than ever she just wanted to be alone.
“Go home,” she ordered Hollister. “Go home, eat something, and try to get some sleep. You look dead on your feet.”
When he made no effort to respond to her, she sighed. She gathered the edges of her coat together. She took another deep breath.
“Hollister?” she tried again. “Hollister, you have to get out of this weather. You don’t even have a coat, for goodness sakes. You’re going to freeze to death. Go home, eat, and go to sleep.”
“I can’t,” he rasped out.
“What?” she asked puzzled.
“I can’t sleep,” his words were low and hollow.
“Why?”
“Every time I close my eyes, they come back.”
“Who? Who comes back?”
“The women and kids I couldn’t save. They come back. They accuse me of being a coward. I was. I was a coward. I didn’t do enough. I choked. They died because of me.”
Her heart broke at the sound of his desolation. He was a strong man. To get him to this point, something terrible must have happened.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she began.
A withering glare from his icy eyes stopped her. “You weren’t there. You don’t know what happened.”
“You’re right,” she agreed. “I wasn’t there. I don’t know what happened. Why don’t you tell me?’
His face went even harder, if that was possible. He looked up at the wide gray sky. “There’s a bad front moving in. You should be with your brother.”
Maggie was confused by the sudden change of topic. “What?”
“I heard on the radio,” he said turning to leave. “A huge storm is coming. It’ll be worse than the bad one in the 1800’s. You should be with Gage. He’ll protect you.”
“Hollister, why don’t you stay at the café?” worried she now tried to keep him there. But he was already halfway to his truck. “Hollister?” she called out.
He never turned back. He never acknowledged her. He got in the truck, cranked it up, and sped off down the icy main street of Bozeman.
Maggie watched as his tail lights disappeared in the distance. She stood on the frozen sidewalk.
“Lord, please watch over him,” she prayed softly.
Then she walked to where her car was parked. And even though she’d been warned of the coming weather. And even though she knew it was beyond foolish. She turned her little vehicle in the street and headed off after him.
Chapter Fourteen
Maggie knew, without a doubt, that she was making a mistake. The visibility on the road out of Bozeman was almost zero. The snow was more like ice pellets. Even the cattle in the surrounding pastures near town were huddled up together as if they knew what was headed their way.
If the storm was as bad as predicted, many of those cattle would freeze to death. It didn’t happen often in Montana. But once in a great while, they’d have a blizzard so awful that animals would freeze where they stood. It would be spring before there carcasses would be found.
Maggie rubbed a cold hand against the windshield. It was so cold her car’s defroster did little to help her see through the swirling snow. A lacy frozen pattern formed across the expanse of glass. It was a bad sign. If she ran off the road again, or ran out of gas, she was doomed.
Even knowing that fact, she made herself keep driving. She had to follow him. She had to comfort him. Something, she didn’t know what, kept her going.
Far off in the faint distance she saw his truck. It was barreling along as if the road was clear and it was a sunny day. Every once in a while the truck’s tires would fail to gain a purchase on the narrow slick road. It would fishtail to and fro as Maggie held her breath and prayed.
She stepped harder on the accelerator of her car. She had to get to him before something awful happened. Just as she had that desperate thought, she watched in horror as his truck lurched sideways. For several agonizing seconds the thing teetered precariously on two wheels. Then it slammed down with a mighty force and skidded over the embankment. Slowly, slowly Hollister’s truck slid down into the icy river that ran parallel to the road.
As she pulled her car to a stop and jumped out of it, Maggie heard the ominous crack of thin ice. She scrambled down the frozen embankment just in time to see Hollister’s truck come to shuddering halt in the middle of the swift current.
Both sides of the river were frozen solid. But the fast running water in the middle of the watercourse never froze solid. The truck was buried nose down in that treacherous, deep abyss. The headlights glowed eerily from under the water. The horn started an intermittent wailing.
For just a second she stood on the bank dumbfounded. Then without thinking, she strode out towards the swift current. The icy bite of the water almost made her faint. It was colder than anything she’d ever felt before. Her wet feet and legs were going numb at an alarmingly fast rate. Her teeth began to chatter. As she splashed towards the truck, icy jets jumped up on her hands and body burning where they scored her flesh.
As she made it to the driver’s door, she was almost completely soaked. Her clothes were already freezing stiff. Her eyes streamed frozen tears that made little icicle streaks down her numb face. Her hair felt so brittle, she thought it might break off in great hanks. She licked her lips nervously and immediately regretted the action. Now her mouth felt coated in hoarfrost.
None of it mattered. Her only thought, her only intent was to get Hollister out of that truck before he died. For die he would, if she could not get him out of the river and into her car. She’d left it running, the heater turned up as high as it would go. She could do this, she told herself. She could save him. She could.
She tried to get a grip on the truck’s door handle, but her fingers wouldn’t open. They were stuck in fisted balls in her gloves. She pried her fingers open and pulled at the door with all her might. Nothing happened. She screamed at him.
“Open the door!”
Hollister sat slumped over the steering wheel. She had no idea if he was conscious or not. He was very still, unnaturally so.
“Hollister, open the door,” she yelled.
Maggie pounded the glass as hard as she could. He did not stir. The girl knew she needed something to break the window. If she could do that, maybe she could shake him and wake him. She looked around her.
The icy water was up to her thighs. She shivered as it dragged all the strength from her body. Random floating chunks of thin ice caught up in the current knocked into her shivering body. Each time one struck it felt like a knife slash. Her whole frame shook. What was she to do, she wondered?
Looking down she saw a few large rocks just under the surface of the raging torrent. If she could get one, maybe she could use it to shatter the window. Stealing herself against the agony to come, she bent down and shoved her hands into the water. The cold stole her very breath as she forced her numb fingers to close over one of the rocks. With a jerk, she pulled it from the river bed.
Without stopping to think, she began pounding the thing against the glass. In no time at all, her fingers went f
rom blue, to purple, to a dead-bone white. But still she kept hitting the rock against the window with all her might. She would not stop. She could not.
The truck’s horn kept blaring. She kept hitting the window. The sounds of the rushing river thundered past her. She felt at odds with her body. Almost as if she was floating above it. Though she knew she was not. Nothing hurt anymore. And all the sounds disappeared. Even the labored gasps of her breathing stilled. She saw twinkling stars in her peripheral vision. Then she was in some kind of tunnel, or so it seemed. Because her field of vision narrowed, narrowed, narrowed until it became the tiniest pinprick of light.
Suddenly she wasn’t cold anymore. She was rising. Maggie had no idea how she was rising, but she was. And just when she would have focused on the delicious experience of hovering in the air everything went black.
“Throw me a rope,” Gage shouted.
He hoisted his baby sister up higher in his arms. The water was brutal. And he’d do his best to keep her out of it, though she was already soaked. Her coat crackled as he shifted her up to his shoulder.
One of his men tossed the rope to him. He spent a few precious minutes tying it to the door handle of the truck. He trudged back through the water to the bank. He handed Maggie off to a man waiting with several survival blankets. Together they wrapped her tight.
“Get her to the hospital,” he ordered as he walked back into the freezing river.
The man nodded and took off at a run, his precious cargo sheltered in his arms. He stowed Maggie into a waiting truck. In seconds they was speeding down the dangerous road towards Bozeman.
“Boss, how are we going to get Hollister?” another man shouted.
“Tie the end of the rope off onto my truck. When I give you the signal, start backing it up.”
The man did as he was told. First Hollister’s truck lurched sideways when it was pulled. Gage jumped out of the way as it began to float. But another tug on the rope cranked open the driver’s door. Water flooded the interior up to the seat. Gage, with the help of yet another one of his men, hauled Hollister out just as the current picked up the truck and swept it away. Together, the two men carried Hollister to the river’s bank.