we’re too broken to realize we’ve been blessed. Sometimes we’re too angry. Sometimes we haven’t forgiven, and sometimes that includes not forgiving ourselves. That’s exactly the predicament Ryder and Jeri are in at the beginning of this story.
I’m so happy to be able to give Ryder and Jeri the blessings of forgiveness, peace and love, but I realize that many others touched by tragedy, like Jeri’s mother, are unable to receive the blessings granted to them. My prayers are with them—and with you, my readers.
God bless. Always,
Arlene James
And when ye stand praying, forgive, if ye have ought against any: that your Father also which is in heaven may forgive you your trespasses.
—Mark 11:25
My thanks to Tyree Rather Brown for her help with the research on this book.
Any mistakes are my own and not a result of her counsel.
Keep that cowgirl life going, Tyree. We love you.
DAR
Contents
Folding up the collar of his insulated, sherpa-lined denim coat, Ryder pulled the door of the big barn shut and lifted his shoulders in an attempt to close the gap between the brim of his black felt hat and the edge of his woolly collar. It was the cowboy’s lot to freeze his ears in winter and burn his skin in summer, but neither the summers he and his brothers had spent at Loco Man Ranch nor a childhood in his native Houston had prepared Ryder Smith for an Oklahoma winter. An impending ice storm to bring in the new year was just one of the unusual weather events he’d experienced since he and his brothers had taken up permanent residence on the two-thousand-acre ranch they’d inherited from their late uncle. Still, in the past nine months, Ryder had found ranch life more to his liking than he’d expected, especially when it came to the horses.
His guilt at having been the initial cause of this move from Houston to Oklahoma had waned as his older brothers had both found wives and established their own families. Wyatt and Jake were happy, and that helped, but a mountain of guilt remained.
Taking comfort from the whickers and thumps of the feeding horses tucked into their cozy stalls, Ryder pushed away thoughts of guilt and tragedy as he set out through the cold of early January toward the recently remodeled old ranch house. While the ranch belonged to the Smith brothers, the ranch house had been inherited by their late uncle’s stepdaughter, Tina, who had intended from the beginning to turn the place into a bed-and-breakfast. As Tina was now his sister-in-law, that was not as much of a problem as Ryder had feared it would be.
His oldest brother, Wyatt, plus Tina and Tina’s seven-year-old son, Tyler, occupied the house. Jake, the middle Smith brother, along with his new wife, Kathryn, and his son, Frankie, now four, lived in War Bonnet, the small town just to the west of the ranch. That left the modest, remodeled bunkhouse as Ryder’s private domain, though he took his meals in the kitchen of the main house with the family.
Drawing near the expansive carport, Ryder saw that two of the extra bays were filled with pickup trucks. One, a double-cab dualie, he recognized as that of their good friend and nearest neighbor, Stark Burns, the local veterinarian. The other, also a
