Chapter 21
twenty-one
“Most tourists think Montana’s all about the cold,” Johanna said, taking a curve faster than Maggie would have dared in the snow. “It’s not. It’s about the sudden changes. Sunny and fifty one hour, blizzard the next. You prep for the blizzard, not the sunshine.”
“Sounds like sound life advice in general.” She clutched the door handle as they hit another pothole.
“Exactly.” Johanna shot her a quick, appraising glance. “I knew from the moment I saw you that I’d like you. You’re tougher than you look.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Just an observation.” A slight smile softened her normally serious expression. “Most people who show up at the ranch with a stalker problem don’t immediately volunteer to teach carpentry to domestic violence survivors.”
“You get a lot of people showing up with stalker problems?”
“More than our share, I’d say.”
Maggie stared out at the snow-dusted pines. “I’m tired of being afraid.”
“Good. Fear keeps you alive, but it’s a terrible life coach.”
Johanna pulled into the hardware store parking lot and killed the engine. “Cody and Jodi Simms have the best selection of work gear. Practical, not pretty.”
“I’ve spent most of my life on construction sites. Pretty’s never been the goal.” She frowned at the large brick building that dominated one whole corner lot on Main Street, just a few doors down from Nessie’s bakery. “The owners’ names are Cody and Jodi?”
“I know, it’s sickly sweet, isn’t it? What makes it worse is that they were high school sweethearts, and they are still ridiculously in love. Like the kind of love people aspire to have.” Johanna shook her head. “I didn’t even know what I wanted in a man until I was forty.”
“Seems like you and Walker have the same kind of love, though.” She’d watched them together in the weeks she’d been at the ranch, and Walker—that grizzled old cowboy—worshiped the ground Johanna walked on.
“Yes, now we do, but it took us far too long to figure it out. We wasted a lot of time dancing around each other.” She slid Maggie a sideways glance as she unbuckled and pushed open the driver’s side door. “Don’t waste time, Maggie. If you want him, just tell him. Don’t make him guess.”
Maggie’s face warmed. She wasn’t surprised that Johanna had picked up on her feelings for Anson, but having it laid out so directly was another matter. “It’s complicated.”
“It always is.” Johanna climbed out of the truck. “Now come on. Let’s get you geared up for a Montana winter.”
Maggie’s phone rang just as they reached the hardware store’s front door. Ghost. Her stomach instantly wrapped itself in knots. He wouldn’t call unless it was important. Or bad. Or both.
“Hello?”
“Landry Whitaker was spotted at a gas station in Ogallala, Nebraska, yesterday morning.” His voice was clipped, straight to business. “Credit card receipts confirm.”
The world tilted, the snowy parking lot suddenly too bright, too exposed. “Is Ogallala closer than Lincoln?”
“Yes.” A pause. “Could mean nothing. He has family in the area, according to our research.”
“But you don’t think so. He’s heading west.” Her voice came from somewhere far away. “Toward me.”
“We don’t know that for certain.” Ghost’s tone stayed flat, and she appreciated it.
The lack of anger, panic, or urgency in his voice steadied her.
“But I wanted you informed. Naomi’s reaching out to her contacts in Nebraska law enforcement to get more details, and we’ll continue monitoring his credit cards and phone.
He’s not getting onto Valor Ridge property without us knowing. ”
“Thank you.” She ended the call and stared at the blank screen, willing her breathing to steady.
“Bad news?” Johanna asked quietly.
She swallowed hard and pocketed the phone. “It was Ghost. Landry is heading west. Maybe just visiting family, but...”
“But you don’t think so.”
“No.”
“And neither does Ghost.”
“No.” She looked up, meeting Johanna’s clear, assessing gaze. “He’s looking for me.”
Johanna didn’t offer empty reassurances or dismissals. She simply asked, “Do you want to go back to the ranch?”
The offer was tempting.
Valor Ridge meant safety.
The forge.
The kittens.
Bramble.
Anson.
But it also meant surrendering to fear again, letting Landry dictate her movements without even being present. If she went back now, how would she cope on Wednesday when she was scheduled to teach at Haven House?
“No.” She squared her shoulders, though her hands still trembled. “I need winter clothes if I’m staying in Montana, which I am. I’m not running again.”
“You sure? We can come back another day.”
“I’m sure. I spent years looking over my shoulder and changing my routine. I’m done with that.”
Johanna studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re making the right call. Running just teaches your brain that the only way to be safe is to keep running.”
The simple validation nearly undid Maggie’s fragile composure. She blinked rapidly, refusing to cry in a hardware store parking lot. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
They walked together toward the store entrance, boots crunching on fresh snow. Maggie scanned the nearly empty lot out of habit. None of the cars looked familiar. Just a few pickup trucks dusted with white, a UPS delivery van, and an ancient Subaru with ski racks.
“Just so you know,” Johanna said as they reached the door, “I’ve got a Glock in my purse, and a rifle in my truck, and I know how to use them both.”
Maggie stumbled, catching herself on the handle. “You’re carrying a gun?”
“Walker would have my hide if I didn’t.” Johanna shrugged, as casual as if she’d mentioned carrying a pack of gum rather than a gun. “Solace is a small town, but it has its share of problems.”
“But it seems so idyllic.”
“It is for the most part, but there are a lot of bears, coyotes, and mountain lions. And an unfortunate amount of meth heads. I like to be prepared for anything.”
A bubble of genuine laughter rose in her throat. “Remind me never to piss you off.”
“You couldn’t if you tried.” Johanna pulled the door open. “Now let’s get you some gear that’ll actually keep you alive through January.”
Simms Hardware had the well-worn feel of a place that had served its community for generations. Wooden floors creaked underfoot. Shelves stretched to the ceiling, packed with everything from fishing tackle to chainsaw parts.
Johanna was nothing if not efficient. She grabbed a squeaky cart and filled it with thick wool socks, thermal underlayers, a pair of insulated Carhartt overalls, and a flannel-lined canvas jacket that looked like it could stop bullets.
“These are the best winter work boots,” she said, hefting a pair of Danner’s with thick tread and reinforced toes. “Not cheap, but they’ll last forever if you take care of them.”
Maggie checked the price tag and winced. “Good thing Anson insisted I use his credit card.” Her bank account was feeling the effects of her eight-month hiatus earlier this year, and with her current extended leave from the network, she’d have to be careful with spending.
“Smart man. Keeping your financial trail hidden is half the battle with stalkers.” Johanna tossed a knit hat into the cart.
“Oh, almost forgot! Walker asked me to pick up an order. I’ll be right back.
” She walked over the counter along the back wall, where an older man with a salt-and-pepper beard was sorting through a stack of invoices.
Maggie wandered toward the work gloves display, comparing the options. Construction in Montana would require more protection than she was used to in Florida. She picked up a pair with reinforced palms, testing the flexibility.
As soon as Johanna was gone, a young man in a blue vest approached, his smile too bright, too eager.
“Excuse me?” His voice cracked slightly.
Her pulse kicked up a notch. Probably nothing. Just a bored kid stuck working retail in a small town.
Still, after Ghost’s call, every stranger felt like a potential threat.
Calm down.
Johanna was ten feet away.
Nothing was going to happen to her here.
She forced a smile and turned toward the clerk. He was barely out of his teens, with a lanky build he hadn’t grown into yet, and a crooked name tag that read, “Evan.” He stood a bit too close, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Oh my God, you are her.” His eyes went wide. “You’re Magnolia Rowe! From Magnolia Builds. I thought so when you walked in, but—oh, wow. Wow, wow, wow. What are you doing here?”
Her smile froze in place. “I’m sorry, you must have me confused—”
“No, it’s definitely you!” Evan’s voice rose an octave, drawing the attention of an older woman browsing hammers.
“I’ve watched every episode like five times.
The way you repurposed that old barn wood into the statement wall in season three?
Pure genius. And when you showed that homeowner how to install their own kitchen backsplash?
I tried it in my mom’s kitchen. It didn’t turn out as good as yours, but still. ”
She’d spent years cultivating this exact reaction—fans who felt like they knew her, who tried her techniques, who trusted her expertise. Normally, she’d be flattered. Engaged. But now, with Landry possibly tracking her, every interaction felt loaded with potential danger.
“Thank you,” she managed, glancing around for Johanna. “That’s very kind.”
“Wait till I tell my mom.” Evan fumbled for his phone. “Can I get a picture? Nobody’s going to believe Magnolia Rowe was in our store. In Solace, Montana, of all places!”
A photo. That could be shared online. Tagged with her location. Seen by Landry.
“I’m actually in a hurry—”
“Just one quick selfie.” He stepped closer, already holding his phone up. “This is so cool. Are you filming here? Is that why you’re in town? My mom said she thought she saw camera crews at the old Wilson place last week, but I told her no way.”
Each question hammered another nail of panic into her chest. Her breathing shortened, spots dancing at the edges of her vision. If this kid posted a photo online, how long before Landry saw it? Before he confirmed she was here?
“Maggie, there you are.” Johanna appeared at her side and tugged her away before Evan could snap the picture. “We need to get going if we’re going to beat that storm front.”
“But—” Evan protested, phone still raised.
“Sorry, no photos today,” Johanna said. “Celebrity rules.”
She guided Maggie toward the front of the store with a firm hand at her elbow.
“Can I at least get an autograph?” Evan called after them. “Or your Instagram handle?”
Johanna didn’t break stride, steering Maggie to the checkout lane, keeping herself between Maggie and Evan as they paid. Thankfully, the older man called Evan away, but Maggie still couldn’t draw a full breath until they stepped outside into the cold.
“I didn’t even get the gloves,” she said numbly.
“We can order them online.” Johanna unlocked the truck and helped her inside.
Once the doors closed and the engine roared to life, her composure cracked. Her hands shook so badly she had to clench them between her knees. “That wasn’t normal, was it? He was too interested. Too excited.”
“Breathe, Maggie.” Johanna cranked the heat, her movements calm and measured. “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
“He wanted a picture. If he posts it online with a location tag...”
“I know. That’s why I got you out of there.”
She sucked in a ragged breath, then another. “Did he seem normal to you? Just a fan? Or should I be worried?” She hated how small her voice sounded, how the questions tumbled out with desperate urgency.
Johanna pulled out of the parking lot before answering. “He seemed like an excited kid who watches too much TV and doesn’t understand boundaries. Not threatening, just overeager.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t trust my judgment anymore.” The admission hurt, but it was true. “I can’t tell the difference between normal interaction and danger.”
“Sweetheart, that’s hypervigilance talking. It’s a normal response to trauma. And, for what it’s worth, I’ve known Evan Miller since he was in kindergarten. He’s about as dangerous as a golden retriever puppy.”
Relief washed through her, leaving her limp against the seat. “So I’m overreacting.”
“You’re having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. After what you’ve been through, your brain is programmed to see threats everywhere. Doesn’t mean they’re not there sometimes, but it also doesn’t mean every friendly face is hiding something sinister.”
Maggie stared out past the storefronts to the snow-covered mountains rising beyond. “When does it stop? This constant fear?”
“When you feel safe again. Really safe, not just physically, but emotionally.” Johanna glanced over. “For now, we’ll tell the guys about Evan. Ghost can monitor if anything gets posted online, and we’ll deal with it if it does.”
“I hate this.” She pressed her shaky hands flat against her thighs, steadying them by force of will. “Feeling like this. Being afraid of a kid in a hardware store. Having to analyze every interaction for hidden threats.”
“I know.” Johanna’s voice softened slightly. “But you’re not doing it alone anymore. That’s the difference.”
The truck climbed the winding road back toward Valor Ridge. Each mile brought a fraction more calm. She could breathe a little deeper the closer they got to the ranch. To Anson.
“Thank you,” she said finally. “For getting me out of there. For not making me feel crazy.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” Johanna’s eyes stayed fixed on the road. “I’ve known a few dangerous men in my time. You’re not crazy to be afraid of this Landry character. But you’re also stronger than you think.”
“I don’t feel strong.”
“I know. One day at a time,” Johanna said, turning onto the ranch road. “That’s how you get through it.”
One day at a time. One foot in front of the other. One moment of courage followed by another. Maggie nodded, squaring her shoulders as the truck rolled toward home.