The Wrangler’s Christmas Gift (The Malones of Grand, Montana #4)

Chapter Ten

C olt waited across the street, walking back and forth to keep himself warm, until he saw Hetty return with Diana, both of them hunched into their coats, heads down. But despite the tension he read in their posture, they were walking close enough that their arms brushed each other occasionally. Good. They’d made some progress, at least.

“Hey,” he said, stepping out of the shadows, after Diana left in her car.

Hetty looked up, as if coming out of a dream. “Colt.” She glanced around. “Have you been waiting here this whole time?”

He tipped his head. “Not the whole time. I thought you might want some company. Or I can just walk you back to the hotel.”

She walked into his arms. “You are a sweet man. Thank you. I wouldn’t say no to a cup of tea.”

“You okay?” he asked, as they walked to the diner.

She sighed. “Yeah. It was brutal. And wonderful. It’s hard for her. I’ve known about her for her entire life. She’s only just found out about me. It’s a lot to process.”

He held the door and they entered the little restaurant, shivering in the welcome warmth. They shed their coats and ordered tea and muffins. Hetty didn’t seem to want to go into detail about the conversation and he didn’t push. Perhaps it was enough to have someone with her while she regained her equilibrium.

He pulled out his phone. “Want to see some of the photos I’ve got so far? I’ve downloaded a bunch of them here. Let me pull them up.”

Her face softened as she scrolled through the images.

“Oh, Colt,” she said, pointing to one of her talking with Leila. “I don’t even know when you took this but look at our faces. We’re so happy! And look at this one of me and Brade. He’s thinking, you can see it. Watchful. The interactions are amazing.” She lifted her gaze. “Thank you so much for doing this. It’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

He had over a hundred images and video clips already and she seemed to want to look at all of them. Most of them needed editing, but it was a start. He was in no hurry, so he sipped his tea and ate his muffin. It felt good to know that it was meeting a need for her.

Suddenly she frowned and passed the device to Colt. “Who’s that?”

She was looking at one of the images he’d taken in Lou’s Pub.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I don’t know many names here yet. Why?”

“He looks…familiar.” Then she blinked and shook her head. “I’m imagining things. Never mind.”

She went back to perusing the photographs but her mood had grown pensive.

“Hetty,” he said. “About that night…”

She put down the phone. “What night?”

He pushed his plate away, his appetite suddenly gone. “You know. Way back. When you and Em were at that conference…”

“Ah yes.” She sat back in her seat. “When you left our cats alone for several days after promising to take care of them for us? Is that the night you’re talking about?”

Her tone wasn’t harsh or judgmental but he felt it anyway. He had to come clean with her.

“I’ve felt bad about it ever since then, Hetty.” He fingered the handle of his mug. “You know I would have been there if I could have. But…there was…”

“Tammy?” Hetty supplied. She took a sip of tea, her hands far steadier than his.

“Yes, but not how you think.” He grimaced. “Certainly not how Em thinks.”

She reached out and cupped his hand. “I know, Colt.”

He shook his head. “No, you don’t”

“Colt.” She waited for him to look her in the eye. Her gaze was soft and so very kind. “Honey, I knew about Tammy. Em didn’t, but I did.”

His ducked his head as heat grew behind his eyes. “You…did?”

She nodded. “The signs were all there. I’m glad you were there for her, Colt. Even if the timing was bad, for us. I’m glad you helped her.”

“Em will never forgive me for what happened to Jasper.”

“Not until she knows the whole story.” Hetty paused. “I’m guessing Tammy made you promise to keep it a secret.”

Colt nodded. He wouldn’t betray Tammy’s trust, not after everything she’d been through.

“I understand,” Hetty said. “But I think, after all this time, Tammy would forgive you.”

“Maybe,” Colt said. “But for Em, I think it’s too late.”

*

Em lay awake that night, replaying the events of the evening. Which Colt Boone was she seeing these days? There’d been quite a few iterations, over the years. Was this more mature version the true one? She wanted to believe in the Colt who stood up for Hetty, who helped strangers with wedding preparation, who was giving Hetty the gift of his pictures, even if Em thought it was a mistake.

The Colt who’d almost kissed her.

But she couldn’t forget the Colt who’d lied to them, who’d prioritized a weekend with his girlfriend over his commitment to them, who acted like it didn’t matter…and then who’d disappeared from their lives, had even gotten married without telling them.

Now, supposedly, he was back, ready to restart his relationship with them, but what did that really mean?

The second time his caseworker had sent him to Hetty’s home, his greeting to Em was as if they’d never met. At twelve, his face was harder, his eyes flintier, his words more clipped and cautious. Em had been near tears at the chill, but when Bruiser and Rosie padded toward him, tails up in greeting, he smiled and bent down to stroke them. The tender-hearted boy she’d known was still there. The cats were his touchstone, it seemed, bringing him back to the person he wanted to be.

Had she simply been projecting her own hopes onto him? Is that what she was doing now? Or was she projecting her fears?

It was the time of year when memories took on a life of their own, when her mind probed into dark places, like a tongue unable to resist an aching tooth and, this time, maybe because she was missing her mom or maybe because she was afraid of losing Hetty or maybe because she wanted to remember the Colt of her girlhood, she indulged in reminiscing.

It was about a week before Christmas, and they were upstairs watching Die Hard on TV—Colt insisting it was an action movie, while she argued that it was a Christmas classic—when they heard banging from the suite downstairs, where Jolene was watching yet another Hallmark Christmas movie. Hetty was in the kitchen, baking cookies for the homeless shelter. Colt complained when she paused the television to listen more closely, and she shushed him.

That’s when the screaming began.

Em’s gut still went hot, remembering the unmistakable voice shouting, taunting, threatening.

Mako was supposed to be in prison. Almost no one knew where they lived. But she remembered that voice far too well. When had he gotten out? Why hadn’t they been told? How had he found them?

Something smashed and Jolene’s screams escalated.

“Mom!” Em cried, leaping up from the cushions on the floor where she’d been lounging.

But Colt caught her arm. “No, Em! He’ll be after you, too.”

Of course, he was right. But Em couldn’t bear the thought of her mother being all alone with the man who’d already nearly succeeded in ending her life once.

“Hide, kids!” Hetty shouted to her. “I’ll help your mom, Em. Don’t come out until I tell you it’s safe, okay? Police are on their way.”

Colt grabbed her arm and shoved her into the closet.

“No, no,” Em cried. “I need to help Mom!”

“Listen to me,” Colt hissed. “You can’t help. If he sees you, he’ll try to hurt you, too. The best way you can help your mom is by staying safe right now.”

He pushed her down, then grabbed pillows and spare blankets from the top shelves, curled up next to her and pulled everything over their heads. It was hot underneath and she could smell his fear, but his voice was calm. The thumps and shouts and screams were burned into Em’s memory and came out in her nightmares for years afterward. But Colt put his arm around her and talked to her, to drown out the worst of it.

“It’s okay, Sparrow,” Colt whispered against her hair. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay. Hetty called 911.”

“He’s going to kill them,” Em cried, her voice unrecognizable to her own ears.

“He won’t.”

“Then he’ll kill us.”

“Em, I’m here. Do you think I’d let anyone hurt you?”

He tightened his grip on her shoulders and tugged the blanket closer over them. If Mako got up here and looked inside the closet, there was a chance he’d see only a pile of bedding, and not realize that two terrified kids were hiding beneath it.

“What if he finds Bruiser and Rosie?” Em said.

“Nobody hides better than a cat.” His voice shook, despite his words. “Hey, do you know the story of Vasilisa the Brave?”

But Em’s mind was frozen with horror. She had a bad feeling that she might wet her pants in front of Colt Boone, which scared her almost as much as facing Mako Fedorenko.

“Vasilisa the Brave,” Colt said, in a singsong voice, “lived with her evil stepmother and her mean stepsisters.”

It was a very bad retelling of a classic tale of a little girl who held in her pocket a doll imbued with the strength given to her by her dead mother. Em pressed her hands against her ears, to drown out both the screams and his voice. She didn’t want to hear a story about a dead mother. She didn’t have a doll in her pocket.

But as he wove the words into the mayhem outside their closet, the story lifted her out of her fear, just a little, just enough.

“That night, the mean stepsisters sent Vasilisa out alone into the forest. That’s where the wicked Baba Yaga lived, but the doll in Vasilisa’s pocket told her where to find safety and how to outwit the witch,” he whispered into her ear. “Even though her mother wasn’t with her, she spoke to her through the doll and always kept her safe. When you have love, you will always be safe.”

“That’s a lie,” Em whispered back, choked with tears. “Mom loves me and we’ve never been safe.”

Colt pressed his forehead against hers and when they looked at each other, they both went a little cross-eyed. Despite her tears, she smiled.

“Right now,” he said, “we’re safe. Both of us.”

Then he kissed her on the mouth, fast and hard, as if doing it before he could talk himself out of it. Their front teeth bumped together and they were both sweaty and shivering with fear, yet it was the most exquisite sensation she’d ever felt.

When you have love, you will always be safe.

That’s when they heard the sirens and the moment was over. They listened to the police break down the door. Heard the furious shouts as they apprehended Mako. Heard the pounding footsteps on the stairs, the voices calling out for them, remembered how she’d tried to call out but couldn’t, how her voice hadn’t worked, how she felt like she might throw up.

But Colt had pushed the bedding off them and crawled out, tugging her along behind him.

“We’re here,” he croaked.

Hetty threw her arms around them, holding them tightly enough to leave bruises. She was shaking and had a rapidly swelling eye but promised Em that Jolene was alive, that she’d be okay, that they were all going to be okay.

Em pushed free and ran down to find her mother being attended to by first responders, her face pale beneath the tears and blood. Hetty had got downstairs in time to help fight off Mako. She’d taken a cast-iron skillet with her and the first blow she landed on his arm had broken the bone. The second one had smashed his nose and sent him flying. When the police came in, Hetty was sitting on his chest, pinning his arms. Jolene was smashing his legs with a broken chair. He’d hit her hard enough to burst her eardrum.

It seemed as if the rest of the night was taken up with police officers and ambulance attendants and people who wanted to ask over and over again what they’d heard, what they’d seen, what time had things happened, how did they know, how were they feeling, whether they were sure they were okay.

Thanks to Colt and his insistence on her watching Die Hard with him, Em was okay. It had been a near miss, however, for Jolene. Mako had beaten her bloody, and the concussion she received that night worsened the brain trauma she’d sustained in his first attempt on her life. The police allowed Hetty and the kids to give their statements at home, rather than come down to the station. She’d told them the whole story later, while they had hot chocolate and cinnamon buns sent over by a concerned neighbor.

“Can we finish Die Hard ?” Colt asked, while the three of them cuddled on the couch. None of them wanted to sleep alone. Colt tried to maintain a facade of bravery, but Hetty insisted that she’d feel better if they stayed together and he hadn’t argued.

Hetty raised her eyebrows. “Isn’t that too scary?”

Colt looked at Em. “We wanna see how it ends, right?”

“We know how it ends. We’ve seen it twice already.”

“Yeah,” Colt said. “But I want to watch it anyway.”

So, they’d started from the beginning. When the bad guy grabbed John McClane’s wife, Em began shaking.

“That’s enough,” Hetty said.

“No,” Em told her. “I need to see it. You were Vasilisa the Brave tonight, Hetty. She’s Vasilisa, too.”

Hetty exchanged a look with Colt, over Em’s head. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Hetty tightened her arms around them both and by the time they got to the part where the good guy got the machine gun, the shaking had stopped. And when they got to the part where the bad guy asks if John really thought he had a chance against them, Em grabbed Colt’s hand. Together, they leaped off the couch and yelled, “Yippie-ki-yay, motherfucker.” Instead of scolding them, Hetty simply smiled.

Before the movie ended, she and Colt were both asleep, huddled against Hetty in a sodden, exhausted pile. They’d come through it. They’d carry the scars of that night with them the rest of their lives, but the bad guy had not beaten them.

When Jolene came home the next day, wobbly and dazed, they watched the movie again with her. Colt acted like he’d forgotten the kiss, so Em did too. The cats had come out of hiding by then, the glass cleaned up, the blood scrubbed away. The only evidence of what had occurred was written on their bodies and in their minds.

Yippie-ki-yay , Em thought. If we can get through that, we can get through anything.