Page 25 of Storm in Montana (Montana Becketts, Wild Spirit Ranch #3)

Snow blanketed the Montana landscape in waves of pristine white, transforming familiar terrain into something soft and beautiful. Brodie and Annalee’s horses picked their way along the trail toward Wild Spirit Ranch, their hooves breaking through the fresh powder with muffled thuds.

Brodie’s roan gelding snorted, his breath crystallizing in the frigid air. Beside him, Annalee sat easily in her saddle, her mare matching the gelding’s steady pace. The silence between them felt comfortable, filled with unspoken possibilities following their afternoon in town.

“Annalee?” Brodie’s voice carried clearly in the still air. When she turned to look at him, snowflakes had caught in her eyelashes, making her blue eyes seem brighter. “I was wondering if you’d let me escort you to church on Sunday.”

Her smile bloomed slow and sweet as spring flowers. “I accept… on one condition.”

“Name it.”

“You’ll join us for supper afterward at Faith and Joshua’s house. They’re hosting all the Becketts this Sunday.”

His laugh bounced off the hills around them. “Throwing me to the wolves already?”

“Speaking of wolves…” Annalee’s expression sobered as she scanned the white expanse around them. The wind had begun to pick up, carrying loose snow in swirling eddies across their path.

“We’ll be fine.” Brodie’s hand moved to his rifle, checking its position. “Still plenty of daylight left.”

The words had barely left his mouth when the weather shifted. Dark clouds rolled in from the mountains with astonishing speed, swallowing the remaining sunlight. The wind rose from a whisper to a howl, driving snow into their faces with stinging force.

“We should hurry!” Annalee called over the rising storm. Cricket danced beneath her, the mare’s ears pinned back against the wind.

Nodding, Brodie urged his roan forward. The trail disappeared beneath fresh snow, forcing them to navigate by memory and instinct. The temperature plummeted as the storm intensified, transforming the peaceful afternoon into a white nightmare of swirling snow and biting wind.

A sound cut through the storm’s fury. A long, mournful howl causing both horses to stop dead in their tracks. Brodie’s hand found his rifle as Annalee drew her own weapon. They sat motionless, scanning the curtain of white around them.

“There.” Annalee’s whisper carried despite the wind. To their left, yellow eyes gleamed through the storm. Three pairs, stalking them with deliberate purpose.

The wolves emerged from the whiteness like spirits materializing from mist. Their coats blended with the storm, making them appear and disappear as they circled. These were not the usual timber wolves common in the area. These were larger and more aggressive, driven by hunger and sinister purpose.

Sensing the threat, Brodie and Annalee raised their rifles in perfect synchronization. The wolves crept closer, their massive paws silent in the fresh snow. The leader, a scarred male larger than any wolf Brodie had seen, curled his lips back to reveal yellowed fangs.

“Ready?” Brodie’s voice remained steady despite the tension thrumming through his body.

“Ready.” Annalee sighted down her barrel, releasing a slow breath.

The crack of their rifles split the air in unison. The sound echoed off distant mountains, drowning out the storm’s howl. The lead wolf yelped, crimson staining the snow as he stumbled. His companions melted back into the whiteness, leaving their wounded leader behind.

The injured wolf snarled, gathering himself for a leap. Before he could spring, two more shots rang out. The massive body collapsed into the snow, ending the current threat.

“We need to move,” Brodie urged, scanning for the other wolves. “They’ll be back with the rest of the pack.”

Annalee nodded, her face pale but determined. They spurred their horses forward, leaving the fallen wolf behind as the storm raged around them. The howls of the retreating wolves followed them through the white darkness, a reminder their battle was far from over.

The storm’s fury gradually diminished, leaving behind a transformed landscape of fresh drifts and carved snow. As visibility improved, new tracks told the story of the pack’s retreat. Brodie studied the signs, his expression grim.

“They’re heading south,” he said, pointing to the clear trail in the fresh powder. “Toward the mountains.”

Annalee drew Cricket alongside his roan, her rifle ready across her saddle. “The same range where Cody and Nathan got caught in the avalanche?”

“Same one.” Brodie’s jaw tightened at the memory. They’d nearly lost both Beckett brothers that day. “I don’t like the idea of you coming along for this.”

“Then you shouldn’t have taught me to shoot so well.” Her smile held steel beneath its warmth. “Besides, you need someone to watch your back.”

The truth of her words hung between them. With the storm passing and darkness approaching, tracking the wolf pack alone would be suicide. Brodie sighed, his breath fogging in the cold air.

“Stay close,” he conceded. “And if I say run—”

“I know.” She checked her rifle’s load. “Though I might be the one telling you to run before this is over.”

They urged their horses forward, following the wolves’ trail through deepening snow. The tracks led steadily southward, where the mountains rose like dark sentinels against the clearing sky. Both riders remained alert, scanning the white expanse for any movement.

“The pack’s larger than anyone suspected,” Brodie said as they rode.

“They’re desperate. Their training and the heavy snow has driven them down from the high country, forced them to hunt closer to the ranches.”

A mournful howl echoed across the plain, emphasizing her point. Their horses shifted when the sound came again, drawn out and haunting.

“There.” Annalee pointed toward a dark shape in the mountainside. Years of erosion and weather had carved a cave into the rock face, its entrance partially obscured by ice formations and drifting snow.

They reined to a stop fifty yards from the cave, scanning the icy outcropping. Urging their horses forward, the howling grew louder at their approach, their horses’ hooves sinking into the fresh powder. Each step brought them closer to the lair, their rifles ready.

Brodie held up his hand, stopping their advance. Even from this distance, they could see fresh tracks crisscrossing the snow in front of the cave entrance. The marks told a clear story. They’d found the wolf pack’s den.

A shadow moved within the cave’s darkness. Yellow eyes reflected the fading daylight, then another pair, and another. The howling rose to a fever pitch, echoing off the mountainside.

Annalee’s heels dug into the mare’s sides as she and Brodie raised their rifles. The cave entrance seemed to pulse with movement. They glanced at each other, sharing a moment of brutal understanding. With chilling clarity, Annalee and Brodie realized they faced what should’ve been an easy decision.

Brodie and Annalee had been taught to kill an animal under two circumstances. Either for food, or to protect themselves or others from attack. Putting down the pack leader earlier had been to protect themselves.

“Shooting those animals feels wrong,” Annalee said, lowering her rifle.

“I understand. We’d best remember they wouldn’t hesitate to attack us if they had an opportunity.”

Glancing at the ground, she gave a slow nod before raising the rifle a second time.

The wolves’ cries reached a crescendo. In the gathering darkness, more eyes appeared in the cave’s mouth, gleaming with hungry intelligence. Brodie and Annalee stood their ground, fingers on triggers, as the pack prepared to emerge.

Night was falling, and the temperature with it. A storm stalked them from the north, bringing more freezing weather. Finishing this now might give them time to reach the ranch.

“Are you ready, Annalee?”

“Ready as I’m going to be.”

“I’ll get the two on the right. You go for the left. One… two—” Brodie didn’t finish as a loud rumble came from somewhere up the mountain.

The horses danced around, ears swiveling as the sound grew as if exploding from deep within the earth. The ground beneath them shifted at the same time a chorus of mournful howls came from the cave.

“There!” Brodie pointed to a slice of the mountain breaking away at the peak. “Avalanche! Ride, Annie!”

Reining their horses away from the mountain, the two kicked their horses into a gallop as a new sound came from behind them.

The rumbling had turned into a whooshing noise coupled with a deep groan.

Looking back over their shoulders, they slowed, then stopped, reining around to stare.

The entire ice facade of the mountain was gone.

Rifles in hand, Brodie and Annalee picked their way up the rubble left by the avalanche. Careful not to get too close, they stared in wonder. The cave was gone, along with the pack inside, covered by at least six feet of snow, ice, and mud.

Neither spoke, still too stunned at what had transpired.

“They won’t survive,” Annalee murmured.

“No, they won’t.”

“Guess there isn’t anything more we can do.”

Brodie’s gaze moved over the area once more before he blew out a breath and turned toward Annalee. “Seems the decision of what to do about the wolves was made for us, Annie.”

Her nod was almost imperceptible as she reined Cricket around. Brodie joined her, neither speaking as they located the trail toward home.