Page 1 of A Redemption Mountain Christmas

Chapter One

Redemption’s Edge Ranch

December, 1875

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. Hewas 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 theherd 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.

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