“Dodge. It’s not sacred land. It’s just a place. You all have bigger lives now, and Sky King Ranch doesn’t fit into them.”

Didn’t it? His breath shuffled out. “I don’t understand. You’re going to get better and . . .” What if I don’t want to leave? He nearly said it, but it felt so . . . childish.

The ranch didn’t belong to him. It was his father’s, and he had the right to do what he wanted with it.

Give it to his children.

Sell it and move to—Florida?

“I thought God brought you back here just in time,” his father said. “But maybe it was to show me that I was holding on to something I need to let go of. We’ve had a couple offers . . . maybe it’s time to say yes.”

No. Dodge’s voice thinned. “What if I want to take it over?”

His father leaned back and took off his glasses. Stared at Dodge. “That’s not the question. What does God want you to do? Is this your destiny, or not?”

Dodge’s brain turned very quiet. “I . . . I don’t know.”

His father picked up his coffee cup, looked at it. “What I want is for you to have all that God has planned for you. I thought it was this ranch, but maybe it’s not.” He got up. “Maybe stop telling God what you want, and let him work his will in you. You might find answers.”

Then he walked out, into the kitchen, where Dodge’s stew had stopped heating.

But Dodge was no longer hungry.

Echo could be her own worst enemy when she wanted to be. And even when she didn’t want to be.

Sheesh, what was her problem that she practically fought the man who wanted to protect her for her oh-so-brilliant right to walk home, a half mile in the dark? In a subzero windchill.

With just a flickering headlamp for light.

And really, it was the final chapter to what she knew—just knew—would happen.

She’d simply gotten off the bus a stop before “I’m sorry, Echo, but I’m moving to Anchorage.” And it would be an “I’m sorry,” because she wasn’t going with him. Because she wasn’t like her mother. When she made promises, she intended to keep them.

“Dad . . . I’m not going anywhere.” Yes, that was her voice, and she meant it.

Granite ran out ahead of her, nipping at the snow his romping stirred up. Goose played with him, the two nudging each other, growling, running in circles, always back to her as she trudged along.

The trees creaked around her, the snow reflecting the luminescence of the moon, giving the night a silvery sparkle, the stars voyeurs upon her stupidity.

Really, it had started with her impulsive decision to find her mother. Yeah, that had been a winner.