26. Montana

26

Montana

G unner helps put my hair in two cornrows and ties black silk ribbons at the ends of them while I put moisturizer on my face. Colt’s taking us out to dinner at his favorite restaurant as we’ve eaten nothing but drive-through food since we’ve arrived, and I’m looking forward to the change of pace. Once my hair’s done, I slide into my black leather dress while Gunner puts my heels on me.

“If I catch you flirting with him tonight, I’m gonna spank your ass, Montana.” He stands up, buttoning his black dress shirt while I fix his hair. I might’ve mentioned that I thought Colt was cute earlier, and Gunner hasn’t been the same since.

I slick back his hair and cup his cheeks. “I only want you. I promise. ”

He tugs on my braids that dust my shoulders. “Good. Because I’m the only one who’s gonna put up with your crazy ass.”

I try to shove him, but he pulls me in for a kiss, and I melt into him, getting lost in the moment when we hear knocking on the bedroom door.

“Our reservation is at seven, and if we’re not out of here in the next ten minutes, we’ll miss it!” Colt’s footsteps trail away, and I take Gunner’s hand in mine, leading him out to the hall.

As we walk downstairs and through the house, I try to imagine what a new life with Gunner in Washington would be like, with all of his horses and animals. We’d probably have to leave the yaks behind. He wouldn’t live close to Dallas anymore, but he’s not close to Colt, and they get along just fine. I didn’t live near Charlotte, and she was still my best friend. Memories of her play in my mind, and I start to get sad seeing Gunner chat with his old friend.

I chime into the conversation once we get in the Camero, sitting in the passenger’s seat while Colt drives. “So do you live in that big house all alone or do you have a girlfriend hidden away somewhere who we haven’t met yet?”

He blushes, shaking his head. “No, ma’am. It’s just me.”

I laugh at the way he calls me ma’am, seeing as he’s ten years older than me, just like Gunner.

Gunner tugs one of my braids in the seat behind me. “Colt is a heartless skirt chaser. He’ll never have a girlfriend.”

Colt sticks up his middle finger through the rear view mirror. “Hey, hey. Skirt chaser? Yes. But heartless? Yeah, I guess I am heartless too.”

The boys laugh together, and I sit there, stunned. “Heartless? How? You’re letting me stay in your room, and you don’t even know me.”

Gunner moves to the middle seat to speak to us both easier. “That’s because Colt has a teeny bit of love for his friends, but not for anyone else. That’s what happens when you grow up with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

I roll my eyes. “That doesn’t explain why I would have feelings for you.” Just like Colt, I grew up with a silver spoon in my mouth, having any physical thing a girl could want. But somehow, I have love for Gunner inside me. I don’t love him yet. At least I don’t think I do. But I really like him and know I could love him soon.

Colt bursts into laughter while he drives faster. “That’s because Gun kidnapped you, Montana. You’re a victim, baby. ”

At that, I laugh too, and we listen to music on the radio until we get to the steakhouse.

Gunner helps me out of the car when we arrive, and with him on my right and Colt on my left, I feel like a celebrity with bodyguards. I might need some to protect me from my father. I didn’t have the dream last night, but I can almost feel him watching and waiting to pounce. I’m dreading the day I see him again.

I’m broken away from my thoughts when we step in the building and the aroma from the kitchen wafts over me. A live band plays in the background, and we’re seated off at a private table in the back. This restaurant is owned by Colt’s family, so he gets priority over regular customers.

Colt hands me a menu and starts rattling off things. “You like Wagyu, Montana? You’ve gotta get the Wagyu with the scallops on it. Good God, it’s good. Not as good as my family’s restaurant in Georgia, but pretty close.”

I turn to Gunner, trying to see what he’s got his eye on. “What are you getting?”

He opens his mouth, getting ready to point something out to me when his phone rings .

Colt snaps at a waiter who brings him a beer. “Hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s rude to have your phone ringing at the dinner table, Gun?” He says his words playfully, but Gunner ignores him, taking out his cell.

“Hang on a minute. It’s Dallas.”

I wonder what Dallas is calling for at seven p.m. Maybe he has an update on my father. I hope to God he isn’t on his way to us. My father has friends all over the country, and it wouldn’t be surprising if he found a way to hunt us down.

Colt keeps trying to crack jokes, but Gunner holds up his hand, quieting him while he talks on the phone. “What? Hang on. I—it’s too loud in here. Let me step outside.”

He gets up from the table and walks back out the front door along the side of the building, and I watch him through the glass, trying to figure out what’s going on.

Colt takes another swig of his beer and leans back in his seat. “I’m glad you found Gun, Montana. He’s been alone for so long that I thought he’d never see light again. For a minute I thought his sadness would kill him.”

I hear Colt’s voice in my ears, but I barely process his words while I look out the window.

Something’s wrong .

Gunner sinks a hand in his hair, pulling it, still holding his phone to his ear, and I see him mouth no over and over. When I hear him yell through the glass, I jump out of my seat, sprinting for the doors. Colt’s on my heels before I can say anything, and when I look over my shoulder at him, his blue eyes look terrified. We step out onto the sidewalk, and my stomach curdles when I hear Gunner groaning, and when he turns around, I see tears streaming down his face.

Gunner looks at Colt first and shakes his head, frowning at him. When I look at Colt, his brows are creased with tears in his eyes too. He rubs his jaw. “Gun?” His use of his name isn’t a question but a plea. A plea that whatever he’s about to say can’t be true.

When Gunner drops his head, I know that nothing about our lives will ever be the same.

Colt starts to groan and shakes his head in disbelief.

I step in front of Gunner, more anxious than I’ve been the past two weeks, wanting to know what Colt figured out that I didn’t.

I hear Dallas say he’s sorry over Gunner’s phone, and he sounds like he’s crying too. When Gunner drops his cell, I pull his hands into mine while my heart slams inside my body, and I finally find my voice. “What’s going on?” Something tragic has happened. Something to bring Gunner to tears, and Colt knows it too.

I feel nauseous, waiting for his revelation. His parents are dead and so is his sister. Margaret’s gone. Colt and Dallas are alright. Who the hell does he have left?

Then it finally hits me.

He tilts his head to the sky with his eyes closed, tears streaming down his cheeks while his body shakes. “They’re gone. My horses—my horses are fucking dead. Shot in the skull. Every single one of them.”

I sit in the Camero beside Gunner while he speeds down the road. We won’t get back to Wyoming until after midnight, but he insisted on going back. He doesn’t believe it’s true and wants to see his babies for himself. There’s no way in hell I’d let him go alone, so I hopped in the car with him.

The only thing we brought with us from Colt’s was the money and Gunner’s guns. He has Gunner’s truck and all of our things, and he’ll ship them first thing in the morning. But the only thing I want right now is for Dallas to be a cruel son of a bitch who lied because if what he told Gunner was true, I’m gonna have to watch him die right before my eyes the same way he did twelve years ago when he lost Margaret.

Gunner doesn’t say a word while he drives, and I keep my mouth shut, not wanting to upset him more than he already is.

Gunner rolls down his window and spits. He’s stopped crying, but his voice is hoarse from him doing it for two hours straight. “So your father just has a thing for mass murder.” I can feel the pain behind his words, and guilt takes over me.

“I’m so sorry, Gunner.”

He sighs and rubs his head. “Quit saying sorry. It’s not like you’re the one who slaughtered them.”

I put a hand over my stomach and the other over my heart, trying to settle them both. “This happened because of me. This would’ve never happened to you if you didn’t meet me. This is all my fault.”

A sob catches in his throat, and he doesn’t respond, not wanting to admit that he knows my words are true.

I can hardly think on the way back to Gunner’s house. I was starving before we went to dinner, but I can’t bear to eat anything now that we’ve skipped it. My skin itches for no reason, and I just want to scrub myself clean. My body feels like it wants to vomit, but I know nothing will come up other than spit and water.

The highway is nearly empty for our entire drive, and eventually we pull onto a back road, letting me know we’re getting closer. I put my hand on Gunner’s thigh while he drives, and he doesn’t brush me away, letting me comfort us both.

I’m terrified. It feels like that night all over again when he took me. I’m going to see dead bodies. The dead bodies of Gunner’s loves. I choke out a sob, covering my mouth while I try to stay quiet. Gunner pulls my hand in his, giving it steady pumps while we both wait anxiously to see everything.

It takes forever to finally pull up to the house, and when we do, Dallas comes from around the barn with blood all over his white shirt, tears still brimming his eyes.

Gunner and I get out at the same time, and when he goes up to Dallas, Dallas grips his arms, trying to hold him back. “You don’t want to see them like they are, man. I need—I need to get rid of them. Don’t go back there.”

Gunner breaks out of his grip, and I run behind him, promising myself he won’t face a second of this torture alone.

When we get to the stables, Gunner falls to his knees, whimpering softly. When I see what’s in front of us, I keel over, vomiting what little contents I have left in my stomach. Dallas remains where he is, pacing around in the front yard while he makes phone calls.

I finally muster up the strength to stand, and I sob quietly, unable to comprehend what I see before me.

There’s so much blood. My father didn’t just shoot these animals once. He shot them several times. Knowing him, he made them suffer.

And some of them . . . some of them are cut apart. Butchered and gutted.

Oh, Willow. Gunner crawls over to his favorite mare, pressing his face to her mane, shaking and shuddering. Her head’s been severed, and her body is scattered about.

I want to go up to him and comfort him, but I’m frozen in place. I feel like an outsider. An intruder. Someone spying on a moment they have no business witnessing. I feel warmth on my leg, and when I squeeze my thighs together, I realize I’ve peed myself again. I wipe my eyes, horrified, scared, and embarrassed when Gunner stands up, looking at the carnage.

He walks past me, over to Dallas, breathing heavily. “One of them is missing.”

Dallas shakes his head, confused. “What?”

Gunner goes back over to the wreckage, counting everything on the ground. “One of my horses is missing. ”

I hear rattling in the distance, coming from the shed Gunner locked me in when he first brought me here. While the guys go back and forth, I go over to it slowly, prepared to fight with only my bare hands.

I have no idea what I’m getting ready to see. It could be my father lurking behind those doors. We could be getting ready to be ambushed. But I have to know.

Stepping closer, slowly and steadily, I make my way to the wooden doors and pull them open carefully. That’s when I see her.

“It’s Violet!” I holler toward them.

Both men look my way, and Gunner runs over to me quickly. I go inside the room, and she starts to scream, but when I put my hands on her face, she quiets down, and I press my face to her nose, letting her know she’s safe.

I hear a click behind me, and Gunner’s voice lowers. “Move out of the way, Montana.”

Looking over my shoulder at him, I see he’s holding a shotgun, and I throw myself in front of Violet, horrified. “Gunner, don’t do this.”

His lip quivers, and his shoulders shake. “Montana, get away from that goddamn beast right fucking now.”

I won’t let him take her. He can’t take her. “Gunner—”

“Montana!” His voice makes my bones shake .

I wrap my arms around her neck, praying I can protect her from his wrath. “Please don’t do this, Gunner. If you do, you’ll regret it.”

He stares her down. “The only thing I regret is not killing that useless piece of shit twelve years ago.”

Violet makes a noise, and I sob against her face, squeezing her tighter. “Get out of here, Gunner. You don’t want to do this. Think of Margaret.”

When I look into his eyes, I see years of suffering. He shakes his head at me frowning, and I stand up slowly, approaching him with my hands up. He grits his teeth, and when I get closer, he sets the gun down, dropping his shoulders.

I wrap my arms around his large frame, holding him close, wishing today never came.

After Dallas got the bodies removed, I got Violet put out of the way in a separate stall from where the disaster took place. Gunner paced around the field for an hour, and once he got tired out, I managed to get him in the house and upstairs. He sits in the wicker chair in his room in his soiled clothing while I get the shower going. He hasn’t spoken since we were in the shed, but I’m hoping his voice will come back in the morning.

Once the water is warm, I head back to the room and start undressing, putting my clothes in his basket. When I go over to him, he looks up at me like he wants to say something, but he just frowns, dropping his head.

He weighs a lot more than me and is several inches taller, but I brace myself against his dresser to help him stand, and I help him remove his shoes, shirt, and pants, getting him undressed. I take his hand in mine, pulling him toward the bathroom gently. “Come on, baby.”

Gunner barely hangs onto my hand while I lead him in the bathroom, but I manage to help him in the shower, grabbing some washcloths and soap on the way in. I step in behind him, pulling the glass door shut.

Leaning his head against the shower wall, he starts to cry again, and I pick up a cloth, wetting it and wiping down his body gently while the water washes over us. It’s frightening seeing him like this. Silent. Broken. Devastated.

Something in my brain tells me to leave. I just destroy everyone’s life that I enter. First Charlotte. Now Gunner. I start to cry again while my brain tells me I should just be alone.

After getting myself rinsed off, I add some soap to the cloth and start washing his body. It takes a lot longer to do than mine with his height and broad shoulders. Once I get his backside entirely clean, He turns around, facing me, and I wash his front.

He looks so tired and empty. It’s probably almost two a.m. at this point. We’re not getting enough sleep, but it’s hard to sleep when you’re constantly looking over your shoulder.

Once I’m clean, I wash his hair quickly, wanting to get him into bed as soon as possible. He lets me maneuver him out of the shower, and I get both of us dry. The ends of my braids are damp, and I take out my ribbons, leaving my plaits in place while I slip on my bonnet.

Too tired for pajamas, I lead him back into the room without our towels, pulling his blanket back so he can get in.

For the very first time, I’m not a prisoner in this house, but I’m more scared than I was when I was first brought here. There’s death in the air, and I can’t get myself to relax. But when Gunner starts to cry again, I turn all of my attention to him. I pull his head into my chest while his damp hair clings to my shoulders, and when he wraps his arms around my waist, I rock him as best as I can, holding him close until he falls asleep.