LITMIR.BIZ

      Chapter One

      Huge snowflakes drifted down out of a midnight-blue winter sky. Tanner “Tag” Cardwell stopped to turn his face up to the falling snow. It had been so long since he’d been anywhere that it snowed like this.

      Christmas lights twinkled in all the windows of the businesses of Big Sky’s Meadow Village, and he could hear “White Christmas” playing in one of the ski shops.

      But it was a different kind of music that called to him tonight as he walked through the snow to the Canyon Bar.

      Shoving open the door, he felt a wave of warmth hit him, along with the smell of beer and the familiar sound of country music.

      He smiled as the band broke into an old country-and-western song, one he’d learned at his father’s knee. Tag let the door close behind him on the winter night and shook snow from his new ski jacket as he looked around. He’d had to buy the coat because for the past twenty-one years, he’d been living down South.

      Friday night just days from Christmas in Big Sky, Montana, the bar was packed with a mix of locals, skiers, snowmobilers and cowboys. There’d be a fight for sure before the night was over. He planned to be long gone before then, though.

      His gaze returned to the raised platform where the band, Canyon Cowboys, was playing. He played a little guitar himself, but he’d never been as good as his father, he thought as he watched Harlan Cardwell pick and strum to the music. His uncle, Angus Cardwell, was no slouch, either.

      Tag had always loved listening to them play together when he was a kid. Music was in their blood. That and bars. As a kid, he’d fallen asleep many weekend nights in a bar in this canyon listening to his father play guitar. It was one of the reasons his mother had gathered up her five sons, divorced Harlan and taken her brood off to Texas to be raised in the Lone Star State.

      Tag and his brothers had been angry with their dad for not fighting for them. As they’d gotten older, they’d realized their mother had done them a favor. Harlan knew nothing about raising kids. He was an easygoing cowboy who only came alive when you handed him a guitar—or a beer.

      Still, as Tag watched his father launch into another song, he realized how much he’d missed him—and Montana. Had Harlan missed him, as well? Doubtful, Tag thought, remembering the reception he’d gotten when he’d knocked at his father’s cabin door this morning.

      “Tag?”

      “Surprise.”

      “What are you doing here?” his father had asked, moving a little to block his view of the interior of the cabin.

      “It’s

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