Prologue
“Our lives are books. Each day is a page written good or evil.”
~Earl Douglass
1869 • WALKERRANCH,ALONGANOFFSHOOTOFTHEGREENRIVER• WYOMINGTERRITORY
The garden—hisgarden—was alive with color today, while the inside of him was black as death. Especially when he thought of his father.
The contrast of the lush vegetation, fragrant flowers, and colorful buds with the darkness that crept through his veins made him shiver.
Julian Walker tucked his chin tight to get rid of the thoughts. Damian was the one who embraced the darkness. Not him. His brother could handle it better than he could. Deep down, Julian’s true yearning was for the light, to grow beautiful things, and to stay out of their father’s fiery wrath.
He dug his fingers into the dirt. A rich, dark concoction of mud he’d dragged up from the river bottom mixed with lots of cattle manure. Wheelbarrow after wheelbarrow, he’d dragged the dark soil up to this place. It had taken him weeks. Mothersaid it was work that would be worth it—her ploy to keep him away from his father.
Randall Walker’s violent temper was well-known throughout their little town and beyond. But he was a wealthy man with the largest cattle ranch in the whole territory. So mean ol’ Walker—as everyone in town called him—did whatever he pleased, and people left him alone.
Julian hadn’t missed the pitying glances cast at them. Especially his mother. But a kinder soul on the planet couldn’t be found. She was an angel.Hisangel. Sent to protect him. To love him. To ... fix him.
The more he grew, the more the blackness inside him grew. He hated it. Feared it would turn him into a man like his father. The past two years had been worse than ever.
“Julian...”
Mother’s whisper washed over him in the garden. She tipped his face up to see her.
A single tear slipped down his cheek as the sun created a halo around her. “Yes, Mother?”
“Don’t allow his ugliness to taint you, dear boy. I will fight for you. Fight for the good in you. I see it every day.”
Plunging his fists back into the dirt, he fought the desire to hate his own father. “I don’t want to be like him. Not ever.”
“Oh, Julian.” She knelt next to him. “You won’t be. I’m here to help you be different. I promise. Now, you keep working out here while I go fix some supper.”
Her soft footfalls faded as he studied the ground. It gave him the opportunity to swipe at his cheeks with his sleeve.
Julian shut his eyes and inhaled the sweet aromas of the garden around him. In those seconds, he took long breaths and time almost stood still. Everything else melted away. And a bright light in his mind made him smile. Just like Mother said ... there was light to overcome the darkness. There was hope.
Time in the garden made the afternoon disappear. Butshouts and crashing from the house shattered the calm in his mind and the black fury inside him spread to every inch of his limbs once again.
“I hate him. I wish I was older. Then I’d show him.” Damian stood there with his hands fisted at his sides, his face pinched and creased in a deep frown. He stomped off toward the trees.
Julian agreed. What he wouldn’t give to be bigger than his father. To be able to show him the same pain he inflicted on a daily basis. Last time Julian stood up to the man, he hadn’t been able to get out of bed for a week. At thirteen, he was puny compared to the hulk of his tough, rancher father.
So he dug in the dirt with a vengeance. One day. One day he’d be stronger than the old man.
The sounds from the house threatened to shatter the thin barrier that kept him from plunging headlong into the dark.
Mother’s lilting voice echoed in his head. “Shut it out, Julian. Grab onto the light.”
He was trying.
Clamping his jaw as tight as he could, he lifted his chin. He focused on the sun above him and allowed the warmth to cover him. The sun gave nourishment to the ground.
He was like the ground. Dark. Lifeless. But the light could change that.
Blocking out everything around him, he went back to work. Churning the soil as if it were his own soul. This morning, he’d killed three prairie dogs and five birds. All to bury in his garden. Funny how death made beautiful things grow.
Mother had taught him that.
