Page 23 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

The late afternoon sun warmed the outside of Mystic’s jail, while inside, the captured outlaws muttered dark threats through iron bars.

Brodie stood in the open doorway, watching the doctor disappear into the town clinic after patching up the prisoners, his thoughts already drifting away from the events of the last couple days.

He stood near the hitching post, boots planted on the weathered boardwalk as Annalee adjusted Cricket’s cinch. Her hair caught the fading sunlight, transforming ordinary strands into threads of copper. She worked with quick precision, her movements fluid despite the cold numbing her fingers.

“Annalee.” His voice came out softer than intended. “Might I have a word?”

Turning, her eyes widened at his formal tone. “Of course… Sheriff.”

He led her around the corner of the jail, away from prying eyes and her brothers’ protective gazes. The space between buildings offered shelter from the wind, creating a pocket of relative warmth.

“I’ve known you for a long time,” Brodie began, his gaze fixed on her face. “Watched you grow into a remarkable woman.”

Annalee’s breath caught, visible in the cold air between them. Her hands, usually steady, trembled inside the pockets of her jacket.

“You’ve always been Cody’s little sister, part of the Beckett family.” He paused, gathering his courage. “Though these past months, I’ve seen you not as my best friend’s little sister and not as the girl who used to tag along after us.”

“How do you see me now?”

He stepped closer, close enough to catch the scent of leather and horses clinging to her clothes.

“I see a woman of strength and grace. Someone who rides as well as any man, shoots straight, and still maintains a gentle heart.” His hand reached for hers, fingers intertwining.

“I see someone I want to court properly if you’ll allow it. ”

Annalee’s free hand pressed against her chest, as if trying to contain the surge of emotion there. “You want to court me?”

“More than anything.” His thumb traced circles on her palm. “I know I’m just a sheriff, not some wealthy rancher—”

“Stop.” Annalee squeezed his hand. “You’re not just anything, Brodie Gaines. You’re the man I’ve loved since I was old enough to know what love meant.”

The confession hung between them, as delicate as the snowflakes still drifting down. His eyes softened, the usual sharp alertness of the lawman melting into something warmer.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.” She smiled, the expression transforming her entire face. “I would be honored to have you court me.”

Relief and joy mingled in Brodie’s expression. He lifted his free hand to her face, thumb brushing across her cheek. The touch sparked something electric between them, making Annalee’s breath catch.

“I’ll speak with your brothers,” he promised. “Make everything proper and formal.”

“They already know how I feel about you,” she admitted. “Have for years.”

Brodie chuckled, the sound rich and warm in the cold air. “Suppose I wasn’t as subtle as I thought, watching you since your return from Philadelphia.”

As she turned to rejoin her family, Brodie caught her hand once more. In a single fluid motion, he leaned forward and pressed his lips to her cheek. The kiss lasted only a moment, yet it left an impression of warmth that spread through her entire body.

They emerged from their secluded spot to find the Becketts mounting up, ready for the ride home. Cody shot them a knowing look from atop his horse, while the others pretended not to notice Annalee’s flushed cheeks or Brodie’s barely contained smile.

When he helped Annalee mount Cricket, his touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, and the smile she gave him held promises of the future.

The Becketts and Tripp Lassiter formed a tight group as they left Mystic behind. Annalee’s cheek still tingled from Brodie’s kiss, the memory a warm counterpoint to the biting wind sweeping across the open plain.

Tripp led the group on his Appaloosa gelding while Cody rode a few feet behind on his bay. Both men scanned the tree line, watching for any signs of danger. The rest of the Becketts spread out in a loose formation, their breath forming clouds in the frigid air.

Cricket moved with careful steps beneath Annalee, her ears swiveling at every sound. Under different circumstances, she might have found it beautiful. Instead, she found herself returning to the moment behind the jail, replaying Brodie’s words in her mind.

The first howl shattered her reverie.

It came from the east, a long, mournful sound carrying across the snow-covered plain. Cricket’s ears flattened against her head, and Annalee felt the mare’s muscles tense beneath her.

Another howl answered the first, this one closer, from the west. Annalee’s hand moved to her rifle, drawing it from the scabbard. She’d grown up hearing wolves, learned their habits alongside her brothers, but these weren’t ordinary wolves. These had been trained by men with cruel intentions.

“They’re moving parallel to us,” Cody observed, his voice tight with concentration. “Trying to flank our position.”

The snow began falling harder, thick flakes reducing visibility.

Annalee found herself straining to see through the white curtain, even as her mind drifted back to Brodie’s green eyes, the way they’d softened when she’d accepted his courtship.

The contrast between that tender moment and their current situation struck her as almost comical.

A third howl split the air, this one from directly ahead.

“Circle up,” Tripp called out. The riders brought their horses together, forming a tight group with their mounts facing outward. The animals shifted nervously, nostrils flaring while their ears twitched at each hint of a threat.

Through the falling snow, Annalee caught glimpses of gray shapes moving through the trees. The wolves were larger than normal, their movements coordinated in a way nature never intended. She counted at least eight distinct forms weaving between the pines.

The wind picked up, driving snow into their faces and carrying with it the rank smell of wet wolf fur. Cricket pawed at the ground, her instincts warring with her training. Annalee stroked the mare’s neck, as much to steady herself as to calm her mount.

A wolf emerged from the tree line, its yellow eyes reflecting the last rays of sunlight. It was bigger than most wolves, with a scarred muzzle and shoulders that spoke of unnatural breeding. The beast’s lips pulled back, revealing teeth designed for tearing flesh.

The lead wolf took a step forward, its paws leaving deep impressions in the snow. Others appeared beside it, forming a semicircle of gray fur and gleaming teeth. The horses shifted, their instincts screaming at them to flee.

“Steady,” Tripp murmured, though whether to the horses or the riders, Annalee couldn’t tell.

The wolves began to pace, moving in opposite directions around their circle. Although still a good distance away, each pass brought the pack closer, tightening the noose. Annalee felt Cricket trembling beneath her, the mare’s fear manifesting in small shivers that ran through her entire body.

A younger wolf, perhaps more eager than its pack mates, darted forward.

Cody’s rifle cracked in the gathering darkness, the sound echoing across the plain.

The wolf yelped and retreated. When two others darted forward, Cody and Tripp fired.

The wolves cried out before racing away, leaving droplets of red behind them.

“We need to move. Now.” Cody’s voice carried through the increasingly dense snowfall.

The group urged their horses forward, rushing down the trail toward the ranch.

The predators fell back, melting into the shadows between trees, but their howls followed the riders.

Snow stung Annalee’s face as she galloped through the deepening dusk, each stride carrying them closer to the safety of home.

Morning light filtered through the barred windows of Mystic’s jail, creating striped shadows across the outlaw’s face. The leader of the gang lounged on his cot like a man at leisure, his crooked smile a deliberate taunt as the sheriff approached the cell.

“Sleep well?” Brodie asked, his voice carrying none of the warmth it had held yesterday with Annalee. He pulled a chair close to the cell, its wooden legs scraping against the floor.

The outlaw stretched, making a show of his comfort. “Like a baby, Sheriff. Your hospitality is remarkable.”

“Good.” Brodie settled into the chair, eyes fixed on his prisoner. “Then you’ll be clear-headed enough to answer some questions about those wolves of yours.”

“My wolves?” The outlaw’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise. “Whatever makes you think they’re mine?”

“You spoke about them on the ride back to Mystic yesterday. Training them to attack cattle, people. Don’t you remember?”

The man rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I wasn’t thinking too straight.”

Brodie leaned forward. “I need to know how to stop them.”

The prisoner’s smile widened, revealing tobacco-stained teeth. “Wolves are fascinating creatures. Loyal to a fault.” He sat up, moving closer to the bars. “Did you know they mate for life, Sheriff?”

“I’m not here for a nature lesson.”

“No?” The outlaw pressed his face between the bars. “Then why are you here? Surely not to protect your precious townsfolk. Or perhaps…” His eyes gleamed. “This is about a woman?”

Brodie’s jaw tightened, but he kept his voice steady. “Besides herding cattle, the wolves are hunting people along the trail. You trained them. You can stop them.”

The outlaw’s laughter echoed off the cell walls. “What makes you think they can be stopped?” He made a clicking sound with his tongue. “They’re doing what comes naturally to them.”

“There’s nothing natural about what you trained those wolves to do.”

The outlaw settled back on his cot, hands tucked behind his head. “Did you know wolves can smell fear? They can hear a heart beating from yards away.”

Brodie stood, his patience wearing thin. “People will die if these attacks continue.”

“People die every day, Sheriff. The weak fall prey to the strong. It’s the way of things.”

“Tell me how to stop them.”

“Or what?” The outlaw’s eyes glittered. “You’ll keep me in this comfortable cell? Feed me three meals a day?” He laughed again. “I’ve spent worse winters.”

Brodie stepped closer to the cell, his shadow falling across the outlaw’s face. “You’re going to be headed to trial in Bozeman. The judge there is known to be hard on those who murder. Especially those who plan to kill, like you.”

“Ah.” The outlaw’s smile turned knowing. “I’m already going to hang. What else can he do to me?”

Brodie’s hands clenched at his sides, but he kept his voice level. “The wolves. How do we stop them?”

The outlaw stood, moving to the bars with fluid grace. “You can’t stop them. They’re not like regular wolves anymore. They’ve developed a taste for human prey, learned to work together in ways their wild cousins never would.”

“There must be a way.”

His voice dropped to a whisper. “You already know what you have to do, Sheriff. Are you willing, or brave enough, to do it?”