11. The Storm #2
“Actually, about that… Is Rex around?” Rex and his brother Richard, with their money combined, were possibly even richer than Chris.
And on top of that, from what my sisters said, good men who loved their families.
I knew both of them invested heavily in real estate, currently building a whole new community in upstate New York close to home by Twin Pines Lake.
“Rex? Yes, of course. He’s playing on the floor with the kids. Uh, but why do you ask?”
I asked her to put the phone on speaker so they both could hear.
“Colt? How’s Montana?” Even Rex’s baritone voice sounded like it was worth a pretty penny.
So I told them about the Hollis Ranch. The debt, the Congressman’s pressure, the land grab, and possibly dirty dealings behind it.
Then I told him about the family, about Ron, Dana, and Tanner.
Finally, I admitted to Chelsea about Caleb.
About the guilt I’d carried and why I’d stayed away from home for so long.
I kept it short and clean without breaking down, but I knew come Christmas she and Maisy would take me in their arms and make me cry telling them every last detail.
“I wish you had told us all of this before,” Chelsea sniffled into the phone.
“I know. Sorry that I carried the weight of all of that, but I think I’m better now. Today, seeing Caleb’s family was cathartic.” I took a breath. “Rex, I know this is a big ask, but would you happen to want to buy a ranch here in Montana?”
The line was quiet for a few seconds. A bead of sweat rolled down my back, despite the chill in the air.
Then he said, “Put the parents on the phone.”
Air whooshed out that I’d been holding, hoping for his answer. I turned back inside, and all eyes turned on me.
“One question,” I said. “You haven’t signed a deal with the Congressman yet, right? You just owe him money?”
Ron shook his head. “No deal signed until we meet with the lawyers tomorrow.”
I held out the phone. “Would you mind talking to my brother-in-law? We may have a better solution.”
Ron’s brow furrowed, but he took the phone like a man reaching for a rope thrown from shore. He and Tanner stepped out onto the porch, and I stayed behind to let the men talk.
“Um, well, I should clean up.” Dana gathered the mugs and trays and took them into the kitchen.
“I’ll help,” Ivy said, but turned to me first, questions in her eyes. She slipped her hand into mine and squeezed. “Are you okay?”
“Better than before. I’ll fill you in later.” I held her gaze and fought the urge to hold her, kiss her, thank her for being by my side through it all. I let her go for now.
Worried whether I’d done the right thing, I paced the floor.
Perhaps Chris Magnus would have been the better choice.
I only knew Rex a little, having joined the Navy around the time he and Chelsea met.
Through her, I knew he’d moved from New York City up to Holly Creek, his brother too, when Richard married our cousin Vivian.
Together, the Buchanan brothers invested heavily in Holly Creek and the surrounding communities of Silverpine and Evergreen Lake, even opening a new golf course over the summer.
Why would they want any property in Montana?
My stomach stayed in knots as I strained to hear bits of the conversation, which lasted well over an hour.
They seemed to talk about everything: the land, of course, the economics of running the ranch, the Hollis’s hopes and dreams—to keep working on the ranch, make a place for Tanner and his future family, too.
They got into the potential of smaller parcels being split off, the development of a farm for Richard, and other things.
Dana kept us entertained with family photo albums. Ivy was so good with her, but I couldn’t concentrate because after every picture of Caleb, I vowed to join forces with Ivy and somehow bring down the Congressman.
I paced once again and peeked outside. Ron sat on the porch step, wiped his eyes, and nodded into the phone. This couldn’t be easy for him, no matter which way things went. I backed away from the window as he returned inside.
“We reached a deal,” his lips twitched. Tanner had a grin on his face a mile wide. “Dana, looks like we won’t have to move after all.”
He went on to explain, with almost a twinkle in his eye, how it turned out that the Buchanans weren’t exactly fans of Congressman Brewster, given that he’d been the co-author of several gas, oil, and energy bills that seemed to block some of the Buchanan Energy interests from time to time.
I didn’t need the details, just happy that the Hollis Ranch could be saved, and hoped that the Buchanans would be good to the family and their land.
A few hours later, we’d taken the horses to the Off-Duty ranch and put them in Knox’s care. I had to return Ivy back home yet. The sky went dark fast, not only with sundown but the storm upon us. At least the rain held off until we pulled out of the driveway.
My phone had been blowing up all afternoon with my sisters curious about Forest Grove.
Richard and Rex went in together on the Hollis Ranch purchase, and, since Richard had already dabbled with a hobby farm outside of Holly Creek, he couldn’t wait to get his hands on a real ranch, even sending photos of new, expensive barn setups he’d been researching.
The Buchanan lawyer was already en route on their private jet with the papers for Ron and Dana to sign, and a big fat check that the lawyer would deliver to the Congressman personally with regards from the Buchanan family.
“I just wish I could see the look on the Congressman’s face,” Ivy grinned, pleased with the outcome. “You are one smart man, making all of this happen.”
“All I did was introduce them. It was lucky that Rex was open to the deal.” The Hollis Ranch was getting a second chance, and somewhere in that, Caleb’s memory could finally be attached to something good.
By the time we turned onto the two-lane heading to the Wylde’s place, Montana weather shifted like a bad mood.
The road ran along the river, and it had already swelled with a fast, muddy current.
Rain pelted the truck with sheets of water so heavy the headlights barely cut through.
It made keeping up a conversation with Ivy difficult; I slowed way down to concentrate on the drive.
Without warning, the rain mixed with sleet, and tiny pellets of ice tapped the windshield.
“This is bad,” Ivy breathed from the passenger seat, gripping the armrest between us. “Pull over?”
“Not much of a shoulder here with that drop-off to the river.” I gripped the wheel tighter. Visibility was maybe ten feet. “If we push through slowly, it might clear in a few miles.”
The sleet got worse, coating the road, the tires slipping. I dropped our speed to a crawl. The heater blasted, trying to keep the windows from fogging. Ivy wiped the passenger side with her sleeve, peering into the storm.
“Shit. Headlights are coming up behind us.” I checked the mirror. Bright, high beams drew up too fast for this road and weather. They closed the gap, and something about the height and spacing of the lights, the aggressive speed, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
“Hold on.” I accelerated slightly, testing the road, feeling the tires search for grip.
The headlights behind us didn’t back off.
They swung into the oncoming lane and surged forward, pulling alongside us, and in the flash of lightning that split the sky, I made out the shape.
Black SUV. Tinted windows. The same vehicle I’d seen at the rally and in the motel parking lot.
“Oh my God. Is that—” Ivy saw it too, but cut off and gasped when the SUV swerved, deliberately slamming into us.
The shock sent us off the road, the tires losing the pavement and finding the muddy shoulder and then down the embankment, the world tilting sideways as we plowed into the river and came to a grinding stop on the embankment.
The impact threw me forward, but the airbags didn’t deploy. The engine sputtered and died.
“Ivy, you okay?” I turned to her. The air left my lungs. She was slumped against the passenger door, her forehead pressed to the window, a smear of blood on the glass. If I had to guess, I’d say her head had connected with the frame. Her eyes were closed, and her body was limp against the seatbelt.
“No. No. Ivy?” I called, frantic and louder. My hands surrounded her face, turning it gently. A cut above her right temple bled, but her pulse was still strong under my fingers.
I set her back down and tried the engine. Nothing. Tried again. Same result. I checked my phone. No signal.
“Not good.” I smeared the frost on my side window and peered out.
The back half of the truck was in the river, the front on the muddy bank.
The storm hammered with no relief, turning back into torrents of rain, when suddenly, upstream, I could make out a wall of water barreling down the river toward us, almost doubling it in size.
I had maybe a minute before it slammed into the truck, carrying us away.
“Fuck.” This was bad. Lightning pulsed through the storm, and something caught my eye.
The flash had highlighted a window in a little cabin ahead of us.
I could barely make it out, maybe about fifty yards away.
I sprang into action, and somehow managed to get out, drag Ivy across the seat and over my shoulder, then scrambled up the bank before the water hit and carried the truck with it.
I ran to the cabin, praying like hell it’d be a place of refuge for us for the night.