Chapter One

July 4, 1885, Aspen, Colorado

It was the smell, the unforgettable stench of burning horseflesh that turned Jesse Colburn’s head. He didn’t need to see what was on fire, in his gut he already knew—the barn. His stomach retched. Hungry red flames licked at the twilight sky just beyond the familiar treetops. Wiping sweaty waves of hair from his eyes, he leaned in low and gripped his mustang’s worn reins. Without a word, Rusty, his horse and longtime companion, knew what to do, and together they raced down Independence Pass toward home.

“Andy!” Jesse called as he leaped off his horse and ran toward the barn. He grabbed the closest grooming bucket and tossed the brushes aside. Water splashed his boots as he filled the bucket from the trough and hurled it at the blaze. One bucket of water had no effect. He had to get to the horses.

“Where the hell are you?” he yelled.

A muffled cry came from the barn.

“No.” Sucking in his breath, he struggled to hear the noise again. Then he heard it, a shout from inside the inferno. Jesse battered the barn door with his boot. He kicked it open, emitting flames so hot he staggered and fell.

Smoke flooded his lungs. He coughed into the crook of his arm attempting to suppress the invading odor of death. Forcing away rising panic, he shielded his face with his arm and braced himself. Against intense waves of heat, he plunged through the doorway. The crackle of splintering wood roared in his ears. Debris, charred remnants of a lifetime of sweat and hard work, surrounded him.

Violent coughing erupted at his side. “Andy, get out of here!”

“Get the damn horses,” the foreman choked out.

“I will.” Andy was too old for this. “Get out of here.”

Timber sparked above. Jesse dove as part of the loft fell.

“Andy!”

No reply came. Jesse pushed himself to his knees and crawled to where his pa’s oldest friend had stood moments before. “Where are you?” Clawing at the dirt, his fingers found a limp lifeless body. Fear clutched his chest. He threw off his hat, twisted a clump of the old man’s shirt in his fist, and heaved him over his shoulder.

Jesse staggered, blinded by the flames and searing heat as he fumbled through the smoldering barn. Smoke singed his lungs. With his memory guiding him, he prayed he’d make it to the door. His knee struck something hard. Andy nearly toppled from his shoulder. He kicked at the object blocking his path. He gagged, realizing it was one of his stallions.

Jesse’s lungs ached for air. Smoke and death encircled him, taunting him.

“Move!” He screamed helplessly at the dead horse. Pain shot through his arms and legs. His muscles cramped until he found another surge of strength. He regained his footing and stepped around the once-prized animal and through the burning doorframe.

Cool mountain air filled his chest, and he fell to his knees releasing his oldest friend.

“Andy?” he cried, shaking him. “Answer me, damn it.” He shook him again and collapsed onto the old man’s rigid chest.

“You’re too stubborn to die.” He begged for a reply. Andy had been running the ranch since Jesse’s first pair of boots. He couldn’t lose him too.

Suddenly, Andy gasped for breath and started coughing.

“You know I can’t run this ranch without you,” Jesse said, relieved.

The old man grabbed Jesse’s shirt pulling him closer. “Did you get ’em?” The dry and rough sound to his voice was almost a plea. “Did you save the horses?”

Jesse couldn’t look at him. Not when the man’s lifetime of toil and sweat turned to an ashen grave right before his eyes. Sorrow caught his throat. “They’re gone.”

“Then you’ve come to it.” He released his grip on Jesse’s shirt and dropped his head to the dirt coughing. “Luke Tremain torched that fire.”

“Don’t talk. You need to drink.” Jesse’s fists clenched the water bucket’s handle. His hands shook as he tried to pour water into the old man’s mouth. Andy swatted the bucket away and coughed again.

Jesse squatted next to him. “You could have died.” He splashed cool water onto their clothes. “You risked your life to save the stallions.”

“To save the ranch.” Andy spasmed with a cough. “I was too late. That son-of-a-bitch stole your pa’s blood and sweat right out from under ya.”

“I said stop talking.” Jesse trudged toward the barn. Yelling at Andy wasn’t right, but the man had to save his breath and stop predicting the damn future.

The fire raged and ingested almost everything. He still had his land and cattle. Luke scared most Aspen ranchers into selling their land to the railroad for a pittance. Now, the only thing standing in Luke’s way of railroad riches was Jesse’s Enchantment Ranch.

After a few minutes he walked back. “I ain’t done in.”

“Your cattle ain’t worth their feed.” Andy labored to sit up. “Face it, Son, you can’t pony up enough money in time to save your ranch with the crow bait you got left.” Jesse hauled him to his feet. “You needed them horses.”

Luke Tremain wasn’t getting Enchantment Ranch—no one was. Within the past year, Jesse buried both Ma and Pa right here. Losing his ranch would be disgrace enough. Losing his folks’ final resting place, at the hands of Luke Tremain? Never. He bit down hard and tasted the metallic mix of blood and sweat on his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. This time it was his blood. Next time it would be Luke’s.