“I never met her. But Jake did, years ago when he was recuperating from his wounds after the gun battle with my brother. I told you that Wolf Logan rescued him and took him to his mining camp up in the mountains? Well, Doe was Wolf’s half-sister, a full-blooded Cheyenne. She was keeping her brother’s cabin when Sloan visited for the first time. Jake said she had this quiet way about her… peaceful and serene like a mountain lake.”

“Sloan loved her a great deal, didn’t he?”

“So I understand. But worse than losing her, he blames himself for Doe’s death. He believes he should have been able to save her. I think he can’t forgive himself for letting her die.”

When Heather remained silent, Caitlin squeezed her fingers. “Sloan is hurting, Heather. Surely you can see that.”

She nodded. His grief was real; the torment she sensed in him was a tangible thing. And he had shrouded himself in isolation and loneliness.

“I think you can change that.”

“What do you mean?”

“If anyone can help Sloan, it’s you.”

Heather smiled wanly. First she would have to get past the granite wall of remoteness and reserve he’d erected—and that would likely be an impossible task. “I fear your faith in me is greatly misplaced.”

“No,” Caitlin said earnestly. “You’ll be his salvation. I’m sure of it.”

Supper was mostly a one-sided affair, with Caitlin and Jake and a chattering Ryan carrying the weight of the conversation. Afterward the two women washed up while the brothers went out to the barn to check on the animals and hitch up Jake’s spring wagon.

“Thanks for seeing to things while I was away, little brother,” Sloan said as they led the horses into the yard.

“Don’t mention it. The boys handled everything.”

Sloan glanced toward the bunkhouse where lights shone from chinks in the shutters. He kept a half-dozen cowboys, including a range cook, on the payroll during the winter months. Come spring roundup, that number would increase tenfold.

“It’s good you made it home tonight,” Jake observed. “Feels like a storm moving in. Probably hit tomorrow night.”

Sloan nodded as he gazed out over the winter-ravaged land. His senses honed by past experience, he could smell the threat of snow in the air. The night sky was a sheet of black velvet studded with ice crystals for stars, while beyond the corrals, the foothills rose stark in the cold moonlight.

Despite the promise of more hardship, though, the sight was beautiful. The rugged majesty of the land never failed to touch him, no matter how brutal or dangerous. This was home. He’d had to fight for every inch of it—against sheep farmers, bigoted whites, the elements… He could endure another snowstorm.

It was his marriage that he didn’t want to face.

“So how are you cottoning to wedded life?” Jake asked curiously, interrupting his thoughts.