Swift and Saddled (Rebel Blue Ranch, #2)

by Lyla Sage

Our sunsets glow with color, And in the pearly dawn of morn, The pungent scent of sage drifts down, On a breeze that’s mountain born. —“This God-forsaken Land,” Juanita Leach, cowboy poet, circa 1940s

The mountains are calling and I must go? Well, the old house in the mountains was whispering, and I needed to get inside.

depression wasn’t a logical disease. It was an unexpected cold front in the middle of July.

At his core, Weston Ryder was gentle, and I thought that was the best thing that a man could be.