LITMIR.BIZ

      With thanks to my brother’s good friends—

       Randy and Cathy Brisbane, Denise Johnson, Mike

       and Sherie Brisbane, Arline Vanoli and Crist Bass.

       Your kindness is deeply appreciated.

       Prologue

      Cade Coulter leaned against the fender of his old pickup truck, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at the closed door of the Triple C ranch house. His younger brother Zach was still inside.

      What the hell is taking him so long? Cade glanced impatiently at his wristwatch. It’s seven o’clock.

      The June sunshine was already warm on his face. He slipped aviator sunglasses on his nose, turning his head to sweep the ranch yard with a swift, assessing glance. The Triple C was the biggest ranch in northeast Montana. He’d been born and raised here and every day of his twenty-two years had been spent riding over the Coulter Cattle Company’s vast acres, working cattle under the hot sun of summer and the cold wind of winter snows.

      But he and his three brothers had made a pact—they’d all sworn to stay on the ranch only until the youngest, Eli, had graduated from high school. And last night, Eli had walked across the stage to collect his diploma. This morning, Cade was leaving the Triple C and Montana for good. He doubted he’d ever be back. He swept a longer, slower glance over the buildings clustered around a central graveled yard. He’d helped paint the big barn, house, bunkhouse and assorted outbuildings more times than he could count.

      His gaze reached the grove of trees beyond the barn and halted. Hidden behind the green leaves and sturdy trunks was his mother’s shuttered studio and the creek that flowed past it.

      A sharp stab of grief edged with guilt sliced through him. But with the stoicism and relentless control gained over the ten years since his mother’s death, he instantly sealed the emotions away. He’d learned long ago that regrets were useless.

      “Cade.”

      He turned to see his two youngest brothers, Brodie and Eli, loping down the steps of the bunkhouse before striding toward him across the ranch yard.

      “You two ready to go?” he asked as they neared, noting the duffel bags each had slung over their shoulders.

      “Yeah.” Eli’s green gaze flicked over the four pickups parked in front of the house. “Where’s Zach?”

      “He’s still inside.” Cade saw the swift frown that creased Eli’s brow.

      “Let’s go get him.” Brodie’s voice was curt.

      Eli nodded and walked through the open gate to the house yard, up the curved sidewalk to the porch.

      Cade and Brodie followed him.

      “Was Dad drinking when you got in last night?” Cade asked.

      “Don’t know,” Brodie replied. “I didn’t get home till after two this morning and I slept in the bunkhouse.” He nodded at Eli’s broad back ahead of them. “So did Eli.”

      They jogged up the steps, joining Eli as he opened the door. All three of them stepped over the threshold, Cade first, just as Zach, the oldest of his three younger brothers, came down the stairs, a bulging duffel bag in one hand.

      Their father stood across the wide living room next to the fireplace, his big frame rigid. His flushed face was proof enough for Cade that Joseph Coulter had either started drinking whiskey when he left his bed or that he was still drunk from the night before.

      “If you leave, don’t come back—not until you get a letter from my lawyer telling you I’m dead.”

      The bitter, harsh words rang in the quiet room. Zach halted on the stairs. Beside him, Cade felt Eli and Brodie tense and go still. Cade’s gaze never left his father and he didn’t flinch under Joseph’s fierce stare. For a long moment, his father’s hate and accusation raged between them, though neither spoke. Then Joseph’s gaze flicked past Cade to Brodie.

      Cade’s fingers curled into fists but he didn’t comment. He looked at Zach, gave a slight nod, and turned on this heel to leave the house. He heard his brothers’ boots echo on the porch boards behind him as he strode down the sidewalk and reached his truck, yanking the door open.

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