11. The Storm
The Storm
Colt
It was time for me to face the Hollis family.
I pulled the truck and horse trailer to a stop by the barn and looked around.
I’d finally arrived at the destination of a long journey that took me from the Naval base in San Diego, up the Pacific Trail, to the Off-Duty Rescue Ranch.
I should have paid a visit to the Hollis’ the moment I set foot in Montana.
But grief had a funny way of taking its sweet time to get through.
“Remember, we’ll get through this together, Calhoun.” Ivy reached over from the passenger seat and took my hand. Her fingers laced through mine, firm and warm, and she squeezed once.
“Thanks.” I put the truck in park, and we walked over to the house. I hadn’t slept well. A few deep breaths of fresh air did me good before facing the people on the other side of the front door.
The Hollis home was white with faded green shutters, and a metal horse weathervane welded to the top that leaked rust down the roof.
Nestled in Elk Valley, the setting was almost as pretty as the Off-Duty Ranch.
The Gruff Bear River could be heard flowing in the distance.
The Lonely Grizzly Mountain peak stood majestically above us.
A three-legged brown and black Australian Shepherd came running up to us, barking in the yard, tail wagging, and behind it came Ron Hollis, maybe fifties, lean with sun-weathered skin.
He wore a flannel shirt tucked into work jeans and a straw hat that had seen better days.
His hands were full of squash and zucchini, probably the final pickings before the frost we were supposed to get later this week.
“You must be Colt,” Ron said. He put the vegetables in a basket on the porch and then extended his hand. His grip was strong. “Ash called ahead. Appreciate you coming out. The horses are in the south paddock. We’ll help round them up.”
“Yes, sir.” My voice held. This close, the resemblance to Caleb’s was uncanny. Made me a little uneasy.
“Honey, Colt is here,” he yelled into the house.
Someone approached, and the screen door opened. A woman stepped onto the porch. Dana Hollis—I recognized her from a photo Caleb kept at his bunk. Petite with auburn hair swept into a bun, she wiped her hands on an apron.
Tanner appeared behind her, and when he saw us, he recognized us.
“Ivy. Colt,” he greeted.
I nodded once, speechless, awkwardly gawking at Caleb’s family.
“Welp, let’s get it done.” Ron led us toward the paddock, and I fell into step beside him, grateful for more time, but feeling every bit the coward.
I asked about the horses because it was easier than what I’d come to say.
Two quarter horse geldings and a mare, solid stock, well-kept despite the ranch’s condition.
They’d be good additions to the ODRR herd.
I ran my hands along their flanks and checked their hooves and let the routine of the work calm my heartbeat.
Ivy had stayed back with Dana at the fence line, doing what Ivy did best: talking, listening, drawing people out through her natural ability to make a friend just about anywhere.
Tanner and Ron had halters for the two geldings. For the mare, I tied a knot in my rope to put over her head and lead her to the trailer.
Ron watched. “You know your knots. You Navy?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My boy Caleb was Navy. Lost him to an accident aboard ship.” He said it like a man who’d said it a thousand times and still hadn’t gotten used to the words. “Been hard on all of us.”
Tanner put a hand on his shoulder and gazed off into the distance as if praying Caleb might materialize there.
My hand stilled on the mare’s neck. This was the moment. The one I’d put off far too long. Only, no amount of preparation was enough, because there was no right way to tell him I’d been there and wished I could have done more to save his son. And still, I hesitated.
“You’ll have to excuse me. Didn’t mean to bring you down,” he said, apologizing to me for something that was absolutely not his fault.
“Mr. Hollis.” Gathering all my courage, I turned to face him and Tanner. My hands shook holding the rope. “I knew Caleb. He was my closest friend on the ship. I was standing near him, about six feet away. When the cable broke, it could have been either one of us.”
He paused. His wrinkly blue eyes locked onto mine, and I watched the understanding move through him like a wave, rearranging everything he’d thought about the stranger who’d come to load his horses.
“I flagged the cable for repair two days before,” I continued.
The words came out the way they’d come out with Ivy, raw in a way I couldn’t control.
“I saw the fray and wrote it up, and my supervising officer told me it was within limits, so I didn’t push hard enough.
I followed the chain of command, and Caleb—” my voice broke.
I chewed my cheek. “I came to Montana because of him. To be near where he grew up, after all the stories he told me about you and the ranch and this town. I came to tell you I’m sorry I didn’t fight harder for that cable to be fixed. ”
The mare stepped closer and nosed my shoulder, breathing on me like she knew I needed support.
Ron took his hat off and fiddled with the brim, and Tanner side-eyed me.
I braced myself for whatever came next: anger or blame, or cold dismissal.
I’d have taken their shouting, even a punch in the gut, any punishment he wanted to dole out.
Instead, he crossed the feet between us and pulled me into a hug that nearly broke me. He held on with desperate, trembling strength. I stood there and shared his grief, finally giving it the moment it deserved.
I don’t know how long it lasted, until he parted, and we both wiped our eyes. Tanner, too, staring at the ground.
“You listen to me,” Ron spoke first. “You tried. Things happened. I wouldn’t even think to hold a grudge against you. Caleb would not want you to carry this. He’d want you to live.”
Dana’s voice suddenly came up behind us with Ivy in tow. She’d overheard, or maybe Ivy filled her in on why three men were so emotional in the field.
She grabbed me in a hug as well. “Oh, Colt. We got the official report from the Navy. We know about the cable. And we have never once, not for one second, blamed anyone for what happened. It was a freak accident.”
I lived every second of the accident, sometimes playing frame by frame like a movie in my head late at night. But I’d spare them the details unless they asked.
She released me and held me at arm’s length, her hands on my shoulders, and her eyes wet. “Don’t you feel bad. Not on our account.”
I only nodded because I couldn’t speak. Ivy caught my eyes, her hands folded as if in prayer under her chin, mouthing, ‘It’ll be okay.’
We sat on the porch after we got the horses loaded. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a rainstorm was expected this afternoon. Dana brought out coffee and cookies, and we talked about Caleb. The stories I’d carried finally had an audience.
I told them everything good. His funny impersonation of our CO.
The care packages of Dana’s cookies that he shared with everyone.
How he talked about the ranch often, the horses, the river, the mountains.
Ron and Dana listened, hungry and grateful for the stories, an ache to their laugh at the funny ones.
The conversation eventually turned to the practical and the pressing.
“Yep. We’ve had a good run of years here. We’ll certainly take the memories with us, won’t we, Dana?” Ron rubbed his face with both hands. The grief had clearly taken pieces of both of them.
From the confrontation with Tanner in the alley, I knew their ranch had suffered. Debts piled up. A loan from the Congressman had become a trap.
“Take them with you?” I asked.
“We’re out of options.” Ron shook his head. “Can’t pay what we owe. Can’t keep the place running. Selling the horses to your ranch is just the start. We sign papers to turn the place over to the Brewsters tomorrow.”
Tanner stood and paced away, his voice tight and angry in the way that only a young man could sound. “I can’t believe we’re letting our legacy go to that family.”
Ivy, with the most incredible tact, found a way to turn the conversation around to focus on the Brewsters, asking about the Congressman’s offer. I knew her mission here: to find out about their ways of brow-beating ranch owners into submission.
I shared a glance with her when an idea suddenly came to me. “Excuse me for a minute.”
I stepped out and walked off the porch and into the yard, pulling my phone from my pocket. What we needed at a time like this was someone with a shit-ton of money who might be willing to step in and save the Hollis Ranch.
I happened to know a few wealthy men. Perhaps one of them was feeling benevolent today.
I scrolled to the name of Chris Magnus first. He owned both of the Off-Duty Rescue Ranches, here and in Virginia.
He’d given Ash the ranch to manage and given me a job and a bunk when I’d had nothing but a duffel bag and a salute coming fresh off the Pacific Trail.
He had already purchased a few ranches, like the Wylde’s, side by side to combine and create the ODRR, one of the largest ones in the region. The Hollis ranch was clear on the other side of the county, though.
Of course, my sisters married wealthy men, but I didn’t make it a habit to reach out and beg them for money. There weren’t any other options right now. For Caleb’s sake and his family’s, I had to try.
I paused and finally called Chelsea. She picked up on the third ring.
“Colt! I’m so happy to hear from you. We miss you. Hold on, you have to hear this.” Her voice trailed off, replaced by the sound of little kids singing Row Your Boat.
A thin smile came to my face. “That my nieces and nephews?”
“Yes. They cannot wait to see their uncle. I’m practically counting down the days to Christmas.”