The sun beat down as I rode along the fence separating my land from the intolerable Molly Gale’s property. I stared off in the distance toward her homestead, but nothing except a wide expanse of rolling hills covered in grasses and sage met my view. Good. I’d had enough trouble out of her already.

Despite the sunny day, the wintry air swirled around me, promising an even colder night ahead. The forecast called for snow overnight, but the building cloud bank on the horizon threatened to drop flakes even sooner.

“Better get moving, old boy.” I spurred Slingshot gently forward along the fence line.

He maintained a steady walk as I scrutinized the intersecting wooden beams, turned gray by the unforgiving sun and air just west of the Rockies. Acres and acres of land spread out before me, each hill and flat perfect for raising cattle. My father always said it was perfect for raising a family, too, but I had no interest in that. Never did, never would.

I spat and spurred Slingshot to move a little faster. A wind began picking up from the northeast, and the snow wouldn’t be far behind. By the time the first flakes began to fall, I wanted to be tucked up in the house, my dog Earl at my feet and a book on my lap.

We ate up the miles, Slingshot keeping a brisk pace as I eyeballed every bit of fence along Molly’s side. I wouldn’t stand for another one of her insinuations that I’d been stealing her cattle. Not again. I scowled and pulled my hat down tighter as I remembered how she’d walked right up to me at the co-op and started asking questions about my livestock. When she said a couple head of her cattle had gone missing, and stared up at me with those light blue eyes full of accusation, I wanted to take her over my knee.

Instead, I’d held my temper and told her to back off. “There aren’t any women on the Brady Mountain Ranch for a reason, Molly. This is a prime example of why. Now, kindly get out of my way. I need to see a man about some horseshoes.”

She’d narrowed those bright eyes and lifted her head, the brim of her hat tilting back and her red hair spilling onto her shoulders. She always wore a brightly colored kerchief—either at her neck or tucked in a pocket, just a little bit of feminine extra that drew my attention like a moth to a night light. “You couldn’t keep a woman to save your life. No one would have you.”

Tex at the counter had stopped yammering to Fred and Len, all three men turning to look at me.

“I don’t see any men knocking down your door.” I’d fisted my hands, not sure if I wanted to throttle her or yank her up and show her I knew all sorts of ways to please a woman.

“That’s because I kick them all out before daybreak.” She’d turned and sauntered away, her hips swaying, her ass looking perfect in tight jeans.

I sent up a silent prayer to Pop asking for some strength to deal with his sassy daughter. He’d been my neighbor for years, been my mentor for longer. When he passed, Molly finally decided to show up. Didn’t see hide nor hair of her the entire time her daddy was sick, but she came to claim the ranch after he died.

Making herself at home, she immediately set about to destroy my ranch with her big ideas about how to divert water for her livestock and mine. That, plus a heap of other foolishness, had led to our eventual standoff. It didn’t help that every time I got near her, I wanted to either spank her or kiss the life out of her. I was never sure which. Infuriating woman.

I gripped the reins tighter and pulled Slingshot toward home. The sky grew darker, and I’d lost track of time. The cloudbank turned a deep purple in the fading light. By morning, the entire ranch would be covered with a foot of snow, maybe more. The forecast expected a quick thaw, then another, even stronger snowstorm was set to barrel through just two days later, giving the entire area a white Christmas.

Throwing one more look at the fence, I caught a trouble spot.

“Shit.” I directed Slingshot around again toward the break in the pattern. Sure enough, the fence had fallen in, a couple of the rough-hewn logs lying to the side. The look of it struck me as wrong. It didn’t seem like simple rot or an animal busting through.

I dismounted and patted Slingshot before walking to the fence. On closer inspection, I found the logs had been set aside almost neatly. Kneeling, I inspected the ground next to the break. It didn’t take a tracker to see that several horses had run through the gate along with cattle. I didn’t keep horses in this pasture, and I was almost certain Molly didn’t keep any in this area either.

Getting to my feet, I took off my hat and ran my hand through my shaggy hair. Rustlers. Had to be. That would explain Molly’s missing cattle. When’s the last time I did a head count? I’d have to get my ranch hand Zane on it to see if any of my stock had been stolen. This was the last thing I needed.

As I paced around, a glint caught my eye. Kneeling, I ran my fingers around something shiny pressed into the dirt by hundreds of pounds of animal. I pulled my knife from my pocket and flicked it open, then dug it under the edge of the shiny object. It popped up—a mangled Zippo lighter, the silver scuffed and scratched. Turning it over, I found a set of initials that made my blood rage in my veins.

I stood and kicked the nearest sage. “Fuck!”

Slingshot whinnied, and I got myself under control. “Sorry, buddy. I hate thieves, is all.” And I couldn’t afford to be losing cattle, not after the last roundup yielded less money than any in memory. The ranch was on shaky ground, and I’d had to mortgage the house and several acres of pasture just to keep the place afloat.

With rustlers about—and one in particular—I had to let Molly know. The lighter was the evidence I needed to clear my name. Not that I cared what she thought of me, I reminded myself. Not at all. But as much as I didn’t want to see her face or hear her sassy mouth, she deserved a warning. Pop would roll over in his grave if I didn’t at least try to do right by his opportunistic daughter. Eyeing the approaching weather, I figured I’d have enough time to make it to her place and back home before the real snow started falling.

I ran my hand down Slingshot’s mane, then led him onto Molly’s property. Once he was through, I replaced the boards and sturdied up the boundary. It wouldn’t stop the rustlers, but I hated the look of a busted fence. Always had. Besides, didn’t some smart guy say that “good fences make good neighbors”? Well, I was going to be the model neighbor if that meant Molly would keep her sharp tongue to herself.

“Goddamn woman.” I mounted Slingshot and guided him toward Molly’s homestead. Her father and I had been good friends for the last twenty years. We’d worked together on our ranches, him as an old-timer with all the experience and me as a greenhorn trying to hold on to my father’s farm. Without William Gale, I’d have already bankrupted and moved away.

When he died, I lost my mentor and what was worse—Molly showed up, moved back, and began busting my balls. She took up far too much of my headspace these days, and I was happy to keep my distance from her. She got my blood up, and in more ways than one. That smart mouth needed discipline, needed a man like me to tame it. But I wouldn’t touch her, no matter how badly I wanted to. Just the thought of her deliciously thick ass under my palm had my blood running hot. I shook it off. I had to. There was work to be done.

The wind picked up, the hint of snow now a promise as the air thickened with moisture. I pulled my canvas coat closer around me and put my head down, letting Slingshot do the work.

We cantered into a wide ravine, the ephemeral stream at the bottom dry as a bone. By springtime it would be full again, watering Molly’s cattle and all the other critters in this part of the pasture.

“Come on, old boy.”

Slingshot climbed up the far slope and hurried toward the Gale homestead. He knew the way by heart, no doubt, knew this land just as well as my own. I peered into the distance, the growing gloom hiding the two-story farmhouse, though a ribbon of smoke rose into the night, promising a warm fire. Not that I wanted one. I’d be gone before I had a chance to enjoy it.

Another ravine cut through the sagebrush up ahead, and Slingshot took the embankment with ease. On the upslope, he stopped and whinnied.

“What is it?” I peered at the sage, but didn’t see anything. “Caught the scent of something?”

His whinny pitched higher as he stepped back, his hindquarters sliding down the embankment.

“Whoa.”

A familiar hiss rose from the sage ahead of us. Slingshot reared. I held on as he dropped back down, his hooves losing purchase in the loamy soil near the streambed. The hissing increased, more than one rattler disguised in the sage.

I pulled my shotgun from its holster, but couldn’t aim while Slingshot was threatening to rear again. “Whoa, boy.”

Movement caught my eye, one of the rattlers shooting out to strike Slingshot’s leg.

“Shit!” I raised my shotgun. Slingshot reared again. My hand slipped from the reins just as I fired a shot. The boom was the last thing I heard.