Page 1 of Montana Justice

Chapter 1

Piper Matthews

The rumbleof the eighteen-wheeler’s engine had become white noise hours ago, but the ache in my ribs kept me from sleeping. Every bump in the highway sent a fresh spike of pain through my torso, a reminder that my father’s fists were as quick as his temper.

As if I’d needed that reminder any time in my twenty-six years.

I pressed my back against the passenger seat, trying to find a position that didn’t make me wince.

“You know, I’ve been driving this route for a decade now, and I swear the scenery just keeps getting prettier,” Eddie said, his weathered hands steady on the wheel. He’d been talking almost nonstop since I’d climbed into his cab three hours ago, chatting about everything from his grandkids to the best truck-stop coffee in Montana.

Normally, talkers annoyed me—too much noise, too much attention—but Eddie’s rambling was oddly comforting. Like background music that kept the darker thoughts at bay.

“My youngest granddaughter just started kindergarten,” he continued, pulling out his phone to show me a picture while we waited at a red light. “Smart as a whip, that one. Reminds me of my daughter at that age.”

I managed what I hoped passed for a smile, though the simple act of moving my facial muscles sent a dull throb through my lip that was still tender on the inside. Eddie had seen me messing with it, but I’d told him I’d taken a spill off my bike. He’d accepted the lie without question, the way kind people did when they didn’t want to pry.

The pain in my side flared as the truck hit another pothole, and I had to bite back a gasp. Three days. Three days since I’d finally had enough. Since I’d realized that staying meant dying, and running meant maybe—just maybe—living.

“You okay there, hon?” Eddie glanced over with genuine concern. “You’ve been pretty quiet.”

“Just tired,” I said, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Exhaustion had settled into my bones like lead, the kind of bone-deep weariness that came from a lifetime of hypervigilance and fear.

“Well, I’m heading up to Billings if you want to stay on that long.” He gestured toward the horizon. “Young woman like you, traveling alone… Billings has more opportunities. More places to blend in if you need to.”

The careful way he said it made me wonder if my story about visiting family out west had fooled him as much as I’d thought. But Eddie seemed like the type of man who’d helped runaways before, who understood that sometimes the only choice was to keep moving.

“I appreciate the offer,” I said. “But I think I’ll figure it out as I go.”

A green highway sign flashed past in the gathering dusk:Garnet Bend - 10 miles.

My heart stuttered. Garnet Bend. I hadn’t thought about that place in years. Hadn’t let myself think about it. But seeing the sign brought back a flood of memories—some bitter, some surprisingly sweet. And we’d be going right through there.

“Actually,” I heard myself say, “would you mind dropping me off in Garnet Bend?”

Eddie’s eyebrows rose. “Garnet Bend? You sure?”

“I’d forgotten this place existed.” I kept my voice light, casual. “Old friend lives there. Figured I’d stop by and say hello.”

Another lie, but this one came easier. The truth was too complicated—that Garnet Bend held some of the only happy memories I had from childhood. That a boy with kind brown eyes—older than me, but who didn’t treat me with annoyance—had helped fix my bike tire when I was ten. Then years later had paid for the groceries I didn’t have enough money for one time at the store.

I didn’t explain that sometimes, when the world felt too dark, I’d close my eyes and remember what it felt like to be seen as something other than a burden or a target.

“Garnet Bend’s a nice little place,” Eddie said. “Got maybe a couple thousand people. Pretty town center, lots of local businesses. Mountain views that’ll take your breath away.”

I nodded, though I barely heard him. I winced as I twisted and pain radiated across my ribs, before smoothing out my features. The last thing I needed was Eddie deciding I needed medical attention. Hospitals meant questions, questions meant records, and records meant my father could find me.

The next twenty minutes crawled by. I stared out the window at the darkening landscape, trying to ignore the way my hands were shaking. This was stupid. Garnet Bend was a risk—not because anyone would recognize me, but because going back felttoo much like hope. And hope was dangerous when you had nothing left to lose.

But I was broke, hurt, and desperate. And desperate people didn’t have the luxury of avoiding risks.

Eddie took the Garnet Bend exit and wound through tree-lined streets toward the town center. Even in the fading light, I could see that the place had grown since I’d left. New shops lined Main Street, and the old buildings had been restored to their original charm. It looked like the kind of place tourists would stop to browse antique stores and eat homemade pie.

“Where do you want me to drop you?” Eddie asked.

“Downtown is fine. Anywhere along Main Street.”

He pulled over in front of a bookstore with cheerful yellow awnings and light spilling from its windows even though it was closed at this evening hour.

---