The males’ll be unhappier yet, Nate mused, when they’re castrated and dehorned. Calves being separated from their mamas for weaning didn’t go happily. He could hear the bovine protests from a corral. The McKinnons ran a tidy place, busy but without clutter. It wasn’t a palace like Mercy, but an attractive timber-framed dwelling with a sandstone foundation and varying rooflines that added interest, with plenty of porches and decks for sitting and contemplating the hills. The main house itself was a fine example of both efficiency and aesthetics. In Nate’s opinion, Three Rocks was one of the prettiest spreads in Montana. He’d caught Ben minutes before his friend was taking off for the high country.

“It was that.” Nate slapped a hand absently against the black gelding’s flanks. My folks said it was quite the social event.” His eyes, shielded by the wide brim of a dark gray hat, glittered cold green. “T HE SON OF A BITCH.” BEN LEANED ON HIS SADDLE horn, shaking his head at Nate. Turning her mount, she rode home in the half-light. She wasn’t going to let any scavengers on her land. No matter how pretty they sang, they were still scavengers. There were all kinds of coyotes, she thought. “We’ll see who runs Mercy when it’s done.”Ī coyote sang out, howling at the three-quarter moon that rode the sky. “We’ll see what happens next, McKinnon,” she murmured. And she thought he would know who was watching from the border of his land. He would see the dark shadow of horse and rider. She wondered if he would look over and up on the rise. The air was clear enough that she heard the muffled slam of the truck’s door, the yapping greeting of dogs. “Back from Bozeman, is he?” Instinctively she straightened in the saddle, brought her chin up. A thin smile spread as she watched the lights veer toward the main house at Three Rocks. She couldn’t make out the vehicle, but noted the direction. She caught the flash of headlights, murmured to her mare to settle her. Damned if I’ll spread my legs for Ben McKinnon or anyone else.” “The ranch is mine, and it’s going to stay mine. “Goddamn you, Pa.” With unsteady hands, she settled her hat back onto her head.

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