Page 1 of Resisting Isaac

prologue

18 Months Ago

Paradise Valley, Montana

Jimmy Peterson prided himself on being a simple man. He’d married the preacher’s daughter, and they’d enjoyed a humble life on his family’s modest ranch. Their house was nearly a hundred years old. Jimmy had offered to upgrade it many times, but his wife, Ida, wouldn’t hear of it. She said it had weathered life’s storms and retained a certain charm, much like the rancher she’d married.

After the loss of their only child shortly after birth, Jimmy and Ida found what joy they could in raising prize-winning livestock and a thriving garden together. A small roadside stand selling their vegetables and the homemade soaps they made from goat’s milk had kept them from going under and made their marriage feel like young love for many years.

But they weren’t young anymore, and as Ida’s illness progressed, Jimmy was reminded every day of how fragile it all was. And how desperate love could make even an honorable man.

When the doctors told him that without expensive experimental medical treatments and medications, Ida would have months instead of years left, Jimmy did everything in his power to try and come up with the money.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.

His body could no longer do the work the ranch required and the money to pay someone else a living wage to manage it had run out years ago. The two drifters he’d hired as ranch hands turned out to be dangerously incompetent idiots.

When the men in the fancy suits arrived with promises of a big payout to purchase his land, Jimmy thought his prayers had finally been answered. But when the call came in that Jack Logan was found dead in his bull pasture on the property line they shared, he knew his nightmare was only just beginning.

CHAPTER ONE

isaac

Present day

Triple Creek Ranch

Paradise Valley, Montana

“Baby, the hens do not need a chandelier,” I hear Wyatt say as I step into his house. “We already put fancy floral wallpaper in the coop. I think they’re good.”

“My girls need to be cozy, rancher. We’ve discussed this.” Ivy’s voice comes from the kitchen, so I head that way.

These two. Jesus.

It’s been a long day and I’m ready for a shower and a drink. My workload has been double for months since the screenplay Ivy wrote is about to become a streaming series filming on our ranch. But my brother’s text said to come by his house before I called it a day, so here I am. Listening to him bicker with his wife.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad my grumpy-ass brother found his other half. He’s a hell of a lot easier to be around these days. Smiles more, makes jokes. Somehow Ivytransformed my workaholic robot brother into a real live human. I don’t know what this woman does to him, but I can guess.

Judging from the mess on their kitchen table, she did it to him recently.

I am never eating on that thing. Ever.

Right now, though, they’re in some kind of standoff.

“Everything okay in here, kids?”

My sister-in-law turns and smiles at me. “Hey, trouble. You made it.”

I set my hat on the counter between them. “Hey, city girl. You winning this argument about the bougie lighting in the hen house or what?”

I glance at my brother with an arched brow.

We both know he’s going to cave and give this woman what she wants. I don’t know the details of why, but they don’t have locks on their doors. Because theybotheredher.

He sighs. “See if Colter can wire it up,” he relents, nodding to a large still-boxed chandelier on the counter. “I think he said he had electrical experience.”

Ivy squeals with delight and hugs him enthusiastically. They get lost in their affectionate moment, whispering and murmuring. It’s kind of sweet but kind of gross to witness up close.