No. Dodge rounded on him, his voice low. “I’m back because you needed help. If you don’t—fine. I’ve got a job lined up with Air One Rescue. I can pack my bags in an hour.”

His father took a breath, his jaw hardening.

“Oh, please. You didn’t think I was staying, did you?”

“I’ve been praying for ten years for you to come back. God has bigger plans for you. A destiny if you’d just stop fighting it.”

Of course he had to bring God into it. Too bad God had abandoned Dodge long ago. “There’s no destiny, Dad. All the big plans have turned to ash. There’s nothing left.” He turned away. “As soon as you’re able to take over, I’m out of here.”

His father’s soft voice stopped him. “I see.”

Nice. He rounded. “Now who’s bitter?”

“No, Dodge. I get it. Really. I wouldn’t want to go back to hauling mail after I’d flown combat helicopters either. Thank you for your help with the ranch.”

Oh. He hadn’t expected that. “Sure.” He put his hand on the door handle.

“You could stay at the house.” It almost sounded like a request, and it slowed him down.

“I don’t think so.”

“C’mon, Dodge. You have to forgive me eventually. It’s not good for your soul to hang on to anger this long.”

Not good for his—he took a breath. “You’ve never asked.”

Silence, and he waited for his father to say it . . . I’m sorry, son. Please forgive me . . .

“I guess I haven’t.” His father met his eyes. “I did what I did because I thought it was for the best. I can’t change the past.”

“Sounds like you’re not sorry.”

“I’m sorry you were hurt.”

“That’s not what I’m asking.”

His father took a breath. “I felt like you needed a wake-up call. And you did. You left and became a hero.”

“I’m not a hero, Dad.” He turned away and opened the door. “You have other sons for that.”

Then he walked out into the cold.

six

She was tired of the bloodshed. Echo stood outside the chicken wire of her coop and grimaced at the sight of two more of her laying hens dead, half-eaten before the killer had been scared away.

She blamed the snowfall—it had shorted out the Christmas lights she used around the pen and inside the coop to help with laying during the dark hours of the winter. And, emboldened, the coyote had ripped open the fencing from one of the fence posts, gotten in, attacked, and escaped with one of her precious hens.

The others were bunched inside the coop, snuggled in for the night, still traumatized.