18. Walk-Ins Welcome
Walk-Ins Welcome
Ivy
The town of Forest Grove came together more than ever once news spread about the ODRR disaster.
Pastor Wells organized a food brigade, and by Tuesday evening the bunkhouse mess hall was stacked with casseroles, cornbread, and enough of his wife’s peach cobbler to feed a small army.
The local clinic provided a first aid tent and people on shifts to provide care to any man who needed it.
Another vet from Bozeman joined forces with Dusty to help inspect each animal as they returned.
Men from the county fire department worked in shifts to help scour the land.
Of course, the sheriff and his men combed the barns and fence lines for clues as to who might have done this. By the time they arrived, though, the ranch hands had been working hard, trampling over what might have been evidence.
The ODRR crew had worked through two straight nights rounding up spooked horses and livestock, and mending the breaks in fences.
Some of the livestock had wandered miles out, clear into the foothills, and it had taken coordinated search parties on horseback to bring as many of them as possible back safely.
Winter was coming whether the fences were ready or not, and everyone knew time wasn’t on our side.
Ash had reportedly been running the operation like a military campaign—shifts, rotations, accountability—Colt and Knox right there beside him in between shifts.
They hardly slept, rarely ate, doing what needed to be done.
I heard all of this secondhand, mostly from Harper, who got it from Gavin, who’d been out there himself running the investigation.
I hadn’t seen Colt since Sunday night—since I’d said things I now regretted.
The West was my place, but it had come out wrong, or maybe it could have come out sandwiched with more of an explanation.
Either way, Colt had heard it, and I didn’t know what it meant for us now.
The other piece of news making the rounds was that Chris Magnus himself had arrived in town to support his guys and see the damage firsthand.
Harper said Gavin mentioned Chris had meetings lined up with state officials from senators to both state congressmen this week, and that had my Chamber of Commerce brain spinning.
What would come of that? Would he clash with Congressman Brewster? Was he making connections that could benefit the ranch and, by extension, the town? I wanted to ask a hundred questions, but the person I stayed focused on was out there in the chilly air, working hard.
I could have texted Colt to see how he was doing. But the way I had left things with him… I didn’t know where we stood right now.
So I did what I always did when I couldn’t control something.
I worked. Wednesday morning I flipped the sign to OPEN and started the pre-Christmas inventory planning I’d been putting off.
If last year’s sales were any indication, I’d need to double my boot stock and triple the flannel selection this month to be ready.
Forest Grove might be shrinking, but people still showed up to shop local for the holidays.
Plus, the tourists who traveled through for the ski season always stopped in for what they considered authentic Montana fashion.
My online sales had doubled this year, too.
I added more packing and mailing supplies to the top of my list.
For some reason, today of all days, working didn’t help.
My mind went exactly where I’d been telling it not to go.
Thinking how Colt looked in my rearview mirror Sunday night, standing there with his hands in his pockets, watching me drive away.
And how my heart ached because of it. Oh, God.
And thoughts of us in the cabin always came up—the way he’d touched me that night like I was something worthy of his time and attention.
Why did I have to open my stupid mouth? Why couldn’t I have simply said, “Yes, Colt. I’d love to see Holly Creek.” Surely my sisters would understand if I didn’t spend the holidays with them this year.
With a sigh filled with too many regrets, I set down the clipboard and pulled out my phone.
I’d drafted and deleted so many texts to Colt, some sounding too casual.
Another like I was fishing for information.
The worst was an apologetic one, without actually saying sorry.
I stared at the blank message thread now and typed something simple.
Ivy: I’m thinking of you. Heard it’s been rough. Stay safe. Hope you’re getting some rest.
My thumb hovered over send. It wasn’t too much or too little. It was what someone who cared about another person would say, and I did care about him. That was the terrifying part.
I hit send and set my phone down. The bell at the door chimed, and a draft of cold air cut through the shop. I jerked my head up from behind the counter, and every nerve in my body froze like ice.
“Well, well, aren’t you just a little shop angel in here?” Seth Brewster smirked, stepping inside. Gone was the suit he’d worn the last time I saw him in town. Back was his leather jacket, jaw unshaved for probably days, and his beady eyes locked on me with no good intentions behind them.
“Seth.” I kept my voice even. “Shop’s open if you’re looking for boots. Otherwise, I’m busy.”
My heartbeat struck like a fist against my ribs.
But I dared not show fear. Seth fed on fear, and I would starve him if it was the last thing I did.
I straightened my spine, saw my phone behind a stack of books and papers, and got an idea.
I swiped my screen and pressed record on the voice memo app, and set it facedown on the counter, hoping he didn’t notice.
And then I realized—I was wearing the ivy bracelet.
I kept my hand hidden behind the stack and prayed. Whatever he planned to do while here, to do with me, the sheriff or Colt might find my phone later and at least have some evidence to lock Seth away.
He wasn’t here to browse; he made that clear, walking straight to the counter. He leaned across the glass, close enough that I could smell the cigarettes and booze on his breath. His mouth pulled into something that wasn’t a smile.
“I had a lot of time to think while locked up,” he said, his voice surprisingly conversational. “Nothing but time. And you know what kept eating at me? That little gold bracelet. Ivy leaves. Remember that? Beautiful little piece of jewelry. Eighteen carat gold. Quality.”
My stomach dropped, but my face didn’t move. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think you do.” He crossed his arms. “I’m pretty sure you were there that night I got arrested.
It was you who called the cops, the whole reason I did time.
Took me a while to put it together, and that only happened because Dad’s security team swept the place after I’d gotten arrested and found your bracelet.
He showed me on a visit in prison.” He let out a breath through his nose.
“After that, you were all I could think about. Every day in my cell. Every time I got beat up. Each time I beat someone up for trying to rape me. Yeah. Prison was a delightful vacation.”
I held his stare. The recording was running. All I could think about was the stark difference between him and Colt. And who I used to be with this man and who I was now. This Ivy planted her boots on the floor and said nothing, because silence was the sharpest weapon I had.
Seth shifted his weight. Something flickered in his expression—frustration, maybe, that I wasn’t falling apart the way he’d imagined.
He didn’t have me in tears on the floor, screaming over me for what I’d done.
He changed tactics, leaning one elbow on the counter like we were old friends catching up over coffee.
“Look, Ivy. I’m done with this town. Done with my father, with Trevor, all of it.
Should never have come back here. Can’t stand either of them assholes.
” He cursed more under his breath, shaking his head.
“Trevor’s a puppet and Dad’s the one pulling every string in this goddamn county.
I’m tired of being the one who gets his hands dirty for them while they—” he stopped himself short.
But maybe I had enough to finally go to the sheriff.
I kept my voice calm, just a woman conversing with an ex-boyfriend.
“That must have been difficult. All those years, helping your father? I remember the phone calls you used to get from him, how irate you would be, and then you’d be gone for a few days.
” I paused, letting it sit in the air between us.
“I can read between the lines. You were forced to do terrible things for him, weren’t you? ”
He regarded me for a long moment. Then he laughed—a rough, bitter sound—and shook his head like I’d asked him something so obvious it barely deserved an answer.
“What do you think, Ivy? Yeah. I’ve been doing Dad’s dirty work for years. Shaking people down who wouldn’t sell. Delivering bribes to county officials who needed convincing. Cutting fences where needed to make people suffer.”
The words landed, taking my breath away.
Cutting fences… I thought of Colt out there in the dark, exhausted, rounding up terrified animals.
I thought of Ash running shifts with his men, and of the community rallying because someone had deliberately sabotaged the ODRR ranch, and here was that someone, standing in my shop.
“That was you,” I whispered. “The ranch fences. That was you.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed, but his mouth curved.
He liked this. Liked that I was putting it together, and how it affected me.
“That’s right. You think the Hollis family didn’t talk around town about your little boyfriend’s intervention in Dad’s deal?
There’s a reason Dad wants the land. The mining rights alone on that property would have brought in a hefty sum.
And I was promised half of it. Half. Do you understand what that means?
That was my future. My money. Gone because your asshole boyfriend played hero. ” He slammed his fist into the counter.
I jolted, struck by a single thought. “Was it you who ran me and Colt off the road during the storm?”
An evil smirk grew across his face. “No. But oh, when Dad heard the news… And then Chris Magnus goes and throws his support behind the sheriff? Dad has been on a rampage all week. The ODRR needed to be taught a lesson. You don’t fuck with the Brewsters.”
I swallowed back a lump. His eyes went from calculating to raw and wicked. My calm demeanor was diminishing fast. I started looking for an escape. But if I ran around the counter, he’d catch me.
“Forget Dad. What really eats away at me, Ivy, is knowing that you—my woman—turned against me.”
“I was never your woman, Seth.”
“You were my woman the second you climbed on the back of my bike. I own you.” He lashed out over the counter so fast, grabbing my arm, that I didn’t have time to get away.
He pulled me against the counter, the edge digging into my stomach.
I yelped and winced at the pain. My wrist uncovered, the gold bracelet stared him right in the face.
He smacked his lips, calculating, putting more of the puzzle together.
“Nice. Use that little breaking and entering trick I taught you, snooping around my motel room?”
He yanked the bracelet off my arm and pocketed it.
“No!” I shouted.
He pulled my arm further over the counter, bringing my face in front of his. “Now, you’ve had your fun playing around this town. Time to stop pretending you’re somebody you’re not. We’re leaving. And none of this has to get any worse for anyone else.” His putrid breath made my skin crawl.
“What do you mean? I’m not going anywhere with you. Not now, not ever.”
His mask dropped completely. The tendons in his neck strained. I winced again when he smacked the counter with his other hand.
“Don’t force me to hurt you. You don’t come with me, then things get much worse on the ranch for your boyfriend and his pals. Even worse for your sisters.”
The blood drained from my face at his threats. I had hesitated about going to the sheriff before. I wouldn’t do anything that might hurt my sisters. Now, it could happen anyway. Unless I went with Seth.
“You put me in prison, Ivy. Do you know what prison is like? Don’t worry, I plan to show you. Because you’re coming with me. You owe me years of your life—”
The bell above the door chimed.
“Oh my God, is this the place? Chelsea, look at these boots!” Maisy gushed as she walked into my shop.