Chapter 1

Duncan

Ah, solitude. Just the way I love it. Nothing refreshes my soul more than fresh air. I make my way across the ranch to the stables just as the sun peeks over the mountains. I love this time of morning when the rest of the world is still sleeping and it's just me and the horses. 

Inside the barn, the animals stir in their stalls, nickering softly as I walk by. I breathe deep, taking in the earthy scents of hay and leather that cling to this place no matter how much I shovel manure. 

"Morning, Sugar," I say, patting the neck of my favorite mare, a pretty palomino. Her coat is so blonde it's nearly white, and it gleams golden in the slanting early light. 

After putting feed in the troughs, I move through the rest of my morning chores – mucking out stalls, filling water buckets, and taking stock of our supplies. As the hands start arriving for the day's work, I delegate tasks, keeping everything running like a well-oiled machine. I may not be the boss around here, but I like to think I'm the next best thing. The go-to guy. Ol' reliable Duncan.

It's a far cry from how I grew up. Where I came from, in the rougher part of Buffalo, it seemed the only things I could be counted on for were getting drunk and finding trouble. Petty crime was a way of life for me and my friends. Brawling, too. Anything for a rush.

It all changed one night when a car theft went bad and my buddy Chris ended up in the hospital with a bullet in his leg. We got arrested, and a juvenile court judge gave me a choice – jail or a strict rehab program on a ranch in upstate New York. 

I resented it at first, being forced to shovel manure and tend to horses instead of partying. But slowly, the peace of ranch life began to soften my rough edges. I found I had a knack for communicating with the animals and taking care of them. Working with my hands gave me satisfaction and filled the idle hours that tended to land me in trouble before.

When I finished the program, I knew I wanted to keep working with horses. So as soon as I turned eighteen, I used what little money I had saved to buy an old truck and struck out for Sleepy Springs. The ranch in Montana reminded me so much of that New York farm where I got my second chance. 

Now a decade has passed. I've moved on from Sleepy Springs, making my way to Elk Ridge. I've been here for seven years, working my way up to head ranch hand. The old anger inside me has faded over time. Still there, but tempered. I keep my demons at bay by staying busy from dawn to dusk doing what I love. I'm not sure where I'd be if not for the balance this life gives me.

By mid-morning, as the sun climbs higher and burns off the last cool shadows, I'm leading a string of horses out to pasture. Their necks sway in time with mine as we walk, connected by the lead rope in my gloved hands. 

Once I set them loose in the open field, they take off bucking and running with sheer joy. Only yesterday I felt just as penned in and restless as them, anxious to break free. But now the sight of their exuberance makes me smile. Their energy never fails to rub off on me. 

I take a minute just to breathe it all in. The snow-capped mountains rimming the endless blue sky. The breeze across my face, ripe with the scent of wildflowers. This rugged, remote landscape that I now call home.

Ranch work is never done, though. I spot a broken fencepost that needs mending, so I hustle back to the barn for supplies, tuning out the world. As I kneel in the grass working, the repetitive motions clear my mind, making space for peace. 

By the time Walt, the owner, gathers all twenty full-time employees for a break, I'm covered in a layer of dust but feeling centered. While the others chat and joke around, I keep to myself, munching an apple. Most of the other hands are decent guys, but I've got too much darkness in my past to get too comfortable. 

So I throw myself back into the tasks at hand – helping Noah repair a leaky stable roof and carrying heavy bags of feed to the livestock pens. The work soothes my restless spirit and makes me feel useful. Like I've got a purpose here.

Walt's granddaughter Hannah finds me as I'm finishing up feeding the chickens. "Duncan! There you are," she calls, smiling brightly. "Got a favor to ask."

I glance her way, leaning on my spade. "What's up?"

"We've got a new guest arriving today, a young woman from Pittsburgh. She's gonna be staying in one of the cabins and lending a hand around here. Would you mind being the one to show her the ropes and get her started? I figure with your experience, you're the perfect man for the job."

I frown slightly. The last thing I want to do is babysit some naive city girl looking for a taste of adventure slumming it on a ranch. But I can't say no to Hannah. She's always been friendly despite my gruff exterior. And her grandfather trusts me to take on these added responsibilities, like mentoring newbies. I don't want to let him down.

"Yeah, sure," I say with a resigned sigh. "Just point her my way when she gets in."

"You're a gem, Duncan." Hannah gives me a quick hug around my sweat-stained T-shirt. "I really appreciate it. I've got to head into town for the rest of the afternoon, but I'll introduce you two at dinner tonight."

"Sounds good." I attempt a smile, but it probably looks more like a grimace. So much for my quiet evening plans. Nothing like a perky newcomer to throw off a whole mood.

I finish scattering feed to the chickens, then lean on the coop fence watching them peck and scratch in the dirt. My mind wanders as I look out over the ranch, which is abuzz with activity as the hands finish up the day's work. 

Walt and his family have built up something really special here. A place for broken people to heal. Folks looking for purpose like me, or city slickers searching for escape. Maybe I'm being too hard on this girl, not even giving her a chance. Everyone deserves an opportunity to start fresh. Ranch work changed my life. Maybe it could do the same for someone else.

With that thought, I whistle for Sugar and take her out for one last ride as the sun sinks low in the sky. We climb up to my favorite bluff overlooking the ranch's fields and pastures. Up here above it all, I can breathe deep and let the day's tension slip away. 

Whatever tomorrow brings with that new arrival, I'll handle it. This isn't my first rodeo training a greenhorn. I doubt this girl will last a week anyhow once she gets a taste of the real work around here. But I suppose it's my duty to at least try to show her the ropes before she hightails it back to the city. 

Sugar snorts and shakes her mane as we start back down the trail in the fading light. "Easy now, girl," I murmur. "I know change isn't always easy. But sometimes it brings something good along with it."

She nickers softly as I stroke her silken neck. We've got a routine here, Sugar and me. But who knows? Maybe this newcomer will surprise me. Either way, we'll take it one day at a time.

It's the same way I've learned to take life – appreciating the simple gifts it offers every sunrise and sunset. Finding peace in the work of my hands. That's all I need. I'm not looking to stir up trouble or invite complications. All I want is to maintain this balance I've found. That's what gets me through each day and helps me finally sleep easy at night.

This place, these horses, they tamed me when I thought no one and nothing could. I aim to give this new girl, whoever she may be, the same patient guidance I was shown. Pay it forward, as they say. Then hopefully she'll move on quickly, leaving me in peace.

Yep, that's the plan.