Prologue
Merrick Ranch—Devil’s Door, Wyoming
Fifteen Years Ago
The Merrick family was running on pure energy. They’d spent days up in the hills during one of the busiest calving seasons ever, and extra wranglers had been hired to assist with their chores. And though it was early May, a fierce snowstorm had blown in across the Tetons, turning the already difficult time into chaos.
Now, as they gathered around a campfire outside one of their range shacks, Bo Merrick looked around. “Where’s Casey?”
The adults looked to eleven-year-old Brand. As the oldest of Bo’s three sons, he was expected to keep an eye on his brothers, ten-year-old Casey and eight-year-old Jonah.
Brand shrugged. “Last time I looked, he was helping Ham.”
Everyone turned to the patriarch of the family.
Hammond Merrick frowned. “I haven’t seen the boy in more’n an hour.”
Ham’s son Egan wrapped his hands around a steaming mug of coffee. “That’s about the time I saw him take off on Thunder.”
Bo looked at his father incredulously. “He took off on my horse? In this storm?” Bo swore. “What the hell am I going to do with that crazy kid? He breaks all the rules we set. Argues with his grandmother while she’s trying to teach him some schooling. Fights with his brothers. And now he’s off to who-knows-where in a damned snowstorm.” He tossed the last of his coffee on the fire, setting up a cloud of steam as he turned toward the corral. “When I find him this time, he won’t be able to sit a horse for a week.”
“Hold on.” Old Hammond caught his grandson’s arm. “You stay here with the others. I have an idea where he might be.”
Before Bo could argue, Hammond strode away and minutes later was swallowed up by a curtain of snow as he rode his horse up the mountain.
Ever since Bo lost his wife, Leigh, in a tragic house fire and had returned to the old family ranch, his middle son, Casey, had become a wild child, regularly flouting the rules set up by his elders. He resented his Gram Meg, who had appointed herself their homeschool teacher, since they lived too far from town to attend a regular school. To escape his brothers, Casey had taken to riding across the hills, spending hours in the wilderness. The only place he seemed to feel at home was high in the Tetons, surrounded by mustangs, wolves and coyotes.
Hammond urged his mount faster as the snow continued to pile up. He hoped and prayed he was right about where Casey might be. Otherwise, it could prove to be a long, cold night for the boy alone on the mountain.
Up ahead he spotted something on the ground in a stand of trees. He felt his heart give a quick jolt.
“Casey! You all right, boy?”
A head came up, and Hammond took in a quiet breath. Alive. At least the boy was alive.
“What do you think you’re doing, boy?” When he drew close enough, he was out of the saddle and racing toward the boy, who was down on his knees in the snow, cradling the head of a newborn foal.
Tears coursed down Casey’s cheeks. “I heard wolves. I think they got his mama.”
Hammond’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a wonder you heard them, boy, over the bawling of the herd.”
Casey swiped at his eyes, embarrassed to be caught crying. “Without his mama to feed him and keep him warm, he’ll die up here in the hills.”
The old man’s mouth tightened into a grim line. It was natural for a boy who’d lost his mother at such a young age to identify with the foal’s loss. Still, this was a ranch, and someone had to teach him the cold, hard facts of life. “That’s nature’s way, boy. Only the strong can survive.”
The boy struggled to his feet, holding the wriggling foal to his chest. “He can grow strong enough to run free with the herd.”
“Where do you think you’re going with him?”
“To the barn.”
“In the dark?”
“He can’t stay here. The wolves will be back.”
“And then what? You going to go without sleep to bottle-feed a scrawny critter that probably won’t survive more’n a day or two at most?”
“If I have to.” Without waiting for an argument, Casey turned away and grabbed the reins of Bo’s big roan gelding. The horse began walking beside the boy and his burden.
The old man watched as he mulled how to handle this. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he began walking beside Casey.
“Why don’t you let me carry the foal on my horse? That way, we can both ride back to the barn.”
Casey turned with a look of surprise. “You’ll help me? Even though you’re needed with the herd?”
“I will. But I’ll want something from you in return, boy.”
“What?” With a look of suspicion, Casey paused.
“You had your pa worried sick. You had all of us worried. I want your word that from now on, when you get the urge to disappear, you’ll tell someone where you’re going and when you’ll be back.”
Casey thought about his great-grandfather’s words before giving a nod. “Okay. Promise.”
Hammond released a long breath before pulling himself into the saddle. “Hand him over, boy.”
Casey did as he asked before mounting Thunder.
As the two began their descent, Hammond nodded toward the campfire in the distance. “On the way down, we’ll stop and assure the others that you’re safe. Your pa’s suffered enough. I won’t have him worrying a minute more than necessary.”
“Do we have to?”
“We do. And you’ll apologize for leaving without telling anybody where you were headed.”
Casey lowered his head, avoiding the old man’s eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Hammond’s stern voice turned as frigid as the weather. “Say it like you mean it, boy. And mean it when you say it.”
Casey’s head came up. He met Hammond’s direct stare with one of his own. “Yes, sir.”
Hammond Merrick was bone weary. His clothes were caked with mud and ice as he trudged into the barn and unsaddled his horse, rubbing it down before leading it into a stall with fresh feed and water. He’d been in the hills for more than a week, and all he wanted was a hot meal, the longest shower in history, and his own bed.
He was just about to leave when he heard a soft voice cooing in the adjacent stall. Looking over the rail he saw his great-grandson kneeling in the straw, stroking the head of the mustang foal.
“You’ve been here all week, boy?”
Casey looked over. “Pa said it was all right if I slept out here and looked after little Storm until he was stronger.”
“You gave him a name? I suppose next you’ll want him to be a pet.”
“No, sir.” Casey stroked the foal’s head. “As soon as he’s strong enough I want him to join his herd. But I thought I’d stick around and make sure the cow Pa brought me would take to him.”
That was when the old man noticed the cow dozing contentedly in a corner of the stall.
At his arched brow Casey smiled. “Pa brought her down from the herd this morning. He said she’d just lost her calf, and he figured she might be willing to accept this little orphan, just until he was big enough to eat on his own.”