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      But I say unto you, love your enemies,

       bless them that curse you, do good to them

       that hate you, and pray for them which

       despitefully use you and persecute you.

      —Matthew 5:44

      This book is dedicated to Dan Baird,

       a genuine forest ranger and my hero.

       Every child deserves a father like mine.

      Contents

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

      Chapter Five

      Chapter Six

      Chapter Seven

      Chapter Eight

      Chapter Nine

      Chapter Ten

      Chapter Eleven

      Chapter Twelve

      Chapter Thirteen

      Chapter Fourteen

      Letter to Reader

      Questions for Discussion

      Chapter One

      Thirty more minutes in the saddle and he could rest. Scott Ennison tightened his left hand around the reins, his stomach rumbling with hunger. The damp ground muffled the rhythmic beat of his horse’s hooves. He breathed deep of the crisp July air, catching the sweet scent of sage and rain. You couldn’t get this stunning beauty living in a city.

      He looked up at the blue Wyoming sky and the jagged peaks of the Snyder Mountains. Farther out, a carpet of green pine led right down to the mouth of Game Creek where his truck awaited him. He’d be there soon and then on his way home. Shelley waited for him back in town, not at all happy that her daddy had left her with his office manager in a strange place. If only her mother were here. The divorce hadn’t been easy on Shelley, not with his career. Living in small, remote towns. Being a single father raising a ten-year-old daughter on his own. Working all the time. Both of them lonely for their own separate reasons. No wonder Shelley was angry and missed her mom. She deserved so much more.

      He redirected his thoughts, inspecting the hillside to check for erosion. After being in these mountains three days, he’d finished looking over the area. Now he had to decide how to proceed with a watershed study.

      The rain that day would have chilled him to the bone if not for the heavy, down-filled coat he wore over his ranger uniform. He shifted his body and fanned his wet slicker over his arms. Even in July, the high mountains could be cold, especially after a storm.

      As he pushed the forest ranger’s hat back on his head, he scanned the thin trail ahead. It twined past several large, rotted tree trunks. A mass of pine needles, dried leaves and rotted bark lay in a pile next to the opening of one hollowed-out trunk. A large animal must have turned the tree over, grubbing for insects. He rode on, giving it no more thought.

      Out of his peripheral vision, he caught a flurry of movement and turned in the saddle. Two bear cubs dashed across the carpet of damp leaves and scurried up a tall aspen. Scott’s gelding jerked its head and jittered to one side.

      A furious roar sounded from behind. Scott swiveled his head just as his horse bolted. The reins jerked from his fingers and he grabbed for something—anything—to keep from losing his seat. His fingers grasped empty air. He fell backward over the horse’s rump. The ground slammed up to meet him. He landed on his back, the air whooshing from his body. Pain exploded at the back of his head. He lay there for several moments, dazed and hurting, gasping for breath.

      Panic pumped through his body and he came to his feet, staggered and fell again. Pain choked off his breath and his lungs ached. As if in slow motion, he watched his horse race down the hill like a shot from a pistol. No more than fifty feet away, a grizzly bear stood on her hind legs. Using the aspens as a gauge, Scott figured she must be at least seven feet tall and weigh five hundred pounds.

      Death stared him in the eye and all he could think about was Shelley. If he didn’t make it home, she’d be all alone. No one to love and care for her. No one to keep her safe.

      The bear’s angry roar echoed off the surrounding mountains. Afternoon sunlight glimmered off her coarse, silver coat. White tips gave her fur a grizzled appearance. Scott had committed the unpardonable sin of coming between a mother and her cubs.

      White-hot terror coursed through his veins. A rush of adrenaline forced him to his feet, but his vision swam like fog. He had to move. Had to run! But his legs wobbled and wouldn’t obey his commands.

      A shot rang out. Scott turned his head, trying to ignore the bolts of lightning tearing through his

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