Page 1 of A Redemption Mountain Christmas (Redemption Mountain #27)
Redemption’s Edge Ranch
Spencer dug his heels into Cicero’s flanks, urging the bay gelding faster through the deep snow. A trio of wolves stalked toward a stray calf not far from a small herd. As he raised his rifle, the wolves paused, hackles raised as they sized up this new threat.
With a fierce yell, he fired a shot into the air above the wolves. The pack scattered, two of the lean gray beasts loping away with their tails tucked. Fearless, the largest wolf stood its ground, icy blue eyes meeting Spencer’s gaze in a challenge.
He chambered another round, ready to fire if needed.
The wolf was clever, keeping the bawling calf between them.
As he edged Cicero closer, the other two wolves circled back, teeth bared in snarls.
Spencer kept his rifle trained on the defiant alpha, though his mount skittered nervously beneath him.
He had to end this standoff soon or risk losing the calf.
With a steady hand and quick reflexes honed by years on the ranch, he fired off three shots in rapid succession.
The shots sent the circling wolves fleeing once more.
He shot once more, the bullet whizzing past the alpha’s head, ruffling his scruff.
With an indignant yelp, the wolf turned and loped away, admitting defeat.
Letting out a shaky breath, he nudged Cicero toward the calf, speaking soothing words to calm the bawling creature. He was reloading his rifle when the pounding of hooves announced another rider. Turning, he saw Tom Bellamy, a fellow ranch hand, ride toward him.
“Heard some shots over this way,” Tom said, taking in the lingering gun smoke. “Wolves again?”
Spencer nodded. “Brazen attack in broad daylight. We’d best get this herd moving toward the ranch.”
With rifles at the ready, the two men drove the cattle onward, keeping a sharp watch for any flashes of gray or black amongst the prairie grasses.
Though the danger had passed, an uneasiness lingered in Spencer’s mind.
If the wolves were getting this bold already, the coming winter could only make their brash behavior worse.
Tom frowned. “The wolves are getting bolder with winter coming on. We’d best let Bull know right away.”
Spencer nodded, troubled by the encounter. They guided the last of the herd closer to the ranch as the morning sun rose in the sky. He swung down from Cicero’s back, his legs stiff after the long ride.
“Let’s go find Bull,” Tom said, heading toward the large barn. Spencer followed, ready to give their report.
They found the foreman talking to Dax Pelletier, the older of the two brothers who owned the ranch. Bull Mason straightened up as they approached, his face breaking into a smile beneath his stubbled beard.
“You boys are back early. Everything go all right with the herd?”
“Had a bit of trouble,” Spencer answered. He described the brazen wolf attack and how he’d managed to drive the predators off. “Tom and I drove the cattle closer to the ranch.”
Bull’s expression darkened. “Wolves getting so bold this early is mighty concerning. We’ll have to bring the rest of the herd closer in. We can’t risk losing any cattle this early in the season.”
He turned and bellowed toward a group of ranch hands heading to the bunkhouse for lunch. “Over here, boys.”
The men hustled over, curious. Bull explained about the wolves. “I want everyone aware of a pack of wolves hovering around here. From now on, we keep the herds in the valley pastures, no more far grazing. Make sure you go armed with a rifle and extra ammunition when you’re out with the cattle.”
The ranch hands nodded, grasping the seriousness of the situation.
“We’ll keep the cattle safe, Bull,” Billy Zales assured him.
One of the ranch’s best wranglers, he worked with the cattle in the winter months when most of the cowboys were let go.
It was common for ranchers to have cowboys who worked between March and October, and a group of permanent ranch hands.
Tom Bellamy was one of the newer, permanent hands.
Bull clasped Billy on the shoulder. “Go spread the word to the rest of the others. Eat your meal, then head out to bring the cattle this way.”
As they headed toward the new cookhouse, Bull caught up with Spencer.
“I need you to drive the wagon to town for supplies. Rachel will have a list for you. Most everything will come from the general store. Give Stan Petermann her list, and he’ll get it all together for you.
I’d like you to leave right after lunch so you get back before sundown. ”
After eating a quick meal, Spencer headed toward the far side of the barn where the supply wagon was kept. He hitched up the two strongest horses to the front of the wagon, tightening straps and buckling harnesses.
“All set for your supply run?” Rachel Pelletier, Dax’s wife, approached, holding a list of goods needed from the general store.
“Yes, ma’am,” Spencer replied, taking the list and giving it a quick scan. Ammunition, kerosene, flour, sugar, molasses, coffee… “A bit of everything.”
“I know. We’re trying to stock up for Christmas baking before Stan runs out of staples.”
He gave her a reassuring smile. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll get there and back before dark, with everything on the list.”
With a final check of the wagon, Spencer clambered up onto the bench, picked up and slapped the reins.
The wagon rumbled along the rutted, icy road leading away from the ranch, the two horses working in tandem as Spencer held the reins. He kept a steady pace, doing his best to avoid getting stuck in the frequent potholes.
As the ranch disappeared behind him, his thoughts turned to the wolf encounter earlier in the morning.
It troubled him how the wolves were getting bolder, venturing so close to the herd in broad daylight.
If they were already getting desperate for food, how would they be by the end of January?
He’d have to keep an eye out for any signs of the predators while out on the range.
A few miles later, the outskirts of Splendor came into view.
He guided the wagon past the schoolhouse, jail, and telegraph office, waving in greeting to the occasional local walking the boardwalk.
Approaching the general store, he stopped the wagon, eager to get the supplies and return to the ranch.
The general store bustled with activity when he stepped down from the wagon. Securing the horses, he pulled the supply list from a pocket and pushed through the doors. Stan looked up from behind the counter.
“Ah, Spencer. Here for the usual ranch order?”
He nodded, stepping forward. “Yes, sir, and anything you can spare ammunition-wise. We’ve got some aggressive wolves lurking about.”
The shop owner’s face grew serious as he listened to Spencer describe the wolf threat. “I’ll make sure you get what you need. Can’t be too careful with those beasts roaming so near.”
Spencer spent some time going through the order with Stan before heading outside. He walked a few doors down to the barber shop, waiting a few minutes until the owner finished with a man Spencer recognized from the bank.
When he was ushered into a chair, his thoughts strayed back to the ranch.
Other than working ten or more hours a day, he led a solitary life.
He ate, worked, and read whatever he could get his hands on, rarely riding into town with other ranch hands when Saturday night came around.
It was a life he’d grown accustomed to, the same as several others at Redemption’s Edge.
Paying for the trim, he walked back to the general store, checked off each item on the list, and paid Stan.
After loading the supplies, he stilled as the sound of the approaching stagecoach caught his attention. Glancing down the street, he spotted it approaching the combination telegraph, post office, and stage office.
The coach slowed to a stop in front of the station. The door swung open, and a lone woman stepped out. Spencer was struck by the woman’s bearing. Head high, her back rigid, she wore a stylish blue traveling dress. Her neatly pinned hair marked her as someone not accustomed to the rugged frontier.
The woman’s voice rang out sharply as she berated the station manager for the delay in her journey. He watched in fascination as she gestured emphatically, leaving poor Bernie Griggs cowed. Though petite, her presence dominated her surroundings.
With a dismissive wave of her hand, the woman strode into the station house, Bernie scrambling to grab her bags. Spencer found himself wondering what would bring such a refined lady all the way out to remote Splendor.
Tearing his gaze away, he walked around the wagon.
He secured the last of the supplies in the back of the wagon, making sure everything was properly protected from the elements.
Though his mind kept drifting back to the unusual visitor, he focused on the task at hand.
There would be time for speculation later.
Climbing up onto the driver’s bench, Spencer gathered the reins. The horses shifted impatiently, ready to be off. With a slap of the reins, he urged them forward into an easy walk. The wagon wheels creaked and groaned as they turned.
Casting one last look back at the station, he felt his curiosity stir again. What was the woman’s story? Shaking his head, he turned his gaze to the road ahead, a wry grin tipping up the corners of his mouth. The visitor added a bit of mystery to a routine journey to town.
As Splendor receded behind him, Spencer occupied his mind contemplating the lone woman’s presence. Perhaps she was visiting family for the holidays. Or perhaps she was an adventurous soul exploring the frontier.
With a flick of the reins, he picked up his pace, the horses responding eagerly. Their rhythmic hoofbeats marked the miles back to the ranch.
Guiding the wagon away from Splendor, he studied the sky ahead. He studied the horizon, noting the dark clouds gathering. He decided the time had come to pick up the pace before the weather turned.
An icy wind struck him in the face as the horses trotted briskly along. In the distance, he spotted something moving through the tall grass just off the road. Drawing the wagon to a halt, Spencer squinted against the fading light.
There, loping along, was a lone gray wolf. It stopped and turned to stare at Spencer with unsettling yellow eyes. He tensed, hand drifting toward his rifle as he met the wolf’s challenging gaze. A long moment passed as man and beast sized one another up.
While he continued to watch the wolf, an ear-splitting crack of thunder sounded. The wolf broke eye contact first, turning and disappearing into the swaying grass. Spencer let out a breath.
With a slap of the reins, he got the wagon moving again. He needed to tell the others. The ranch would have to be on high alert until the brazen predators were driven off for good. As the snow began to fall, Spencer hunched his shoulders against the freezing wind.