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Prologue
March 1905 Belle Fourche, South Dakota
Ma was the only one waiting for Kent Douglas as he stepped off the train. A porter stared at him, mouth agape, and he tugged his hat down on one side, shadowing the area he was forever trying to hide. He gave his mother a nod that he hoped would suppress any questions she might have and swung his bag into the back of the wagon. Wind sent his long coat thwacking against his leg.
“Good of you to come home to help your brother.” Ma shifted over on the seat next to him and sat up, her spine rigid as a rod. She arranged her skirts around her feet, giving the driving over to him.
“I didn’t have much of a choice. He said the need was great, and it’s not as if I’m needed elsewhere.” Kent bit back his biting words. There were barns everywhere across the nation, yet he’d held back from finding a job where his new expertise could be of use.
He unwound the lines from the brake, letting the familiar feel rekindle his memories. He hadn’t driven a team in five years. While living at the university, learning all there was to learn about animal sciences and healing, he hadn’t needed to drive or ride anywhere. If only he’d been allowed to learn how to healpeople, then he’d be able to actually do something about his father instead of merely helping his brother with the ranch, so Armstrong wasn’t spread so thin.
“Your father is . . . unwell.” Ma wrung her fingers, uncharacteristically nervous as she glanced at the passersby.
“How so? Different from before?” Pa had seemed out of his mind for years now. What had suddenly changed to make Kent’s return necessary? He’d planned to never come back to Belle Fourche, but especially not to Douglas Ranch.
“Worse. Armstrong, Dosha, or I must watch him constantly. Even Fairbanks refuses to see your father’s instability. As the foreman, he probably sees it the most. It’s a daily struggle to keep your father from doing something that will jeopardize the tenuous trust we’ve worked to build with the Johlmans.”
The name made him cringe, and yet his heart expanded against his will. Alice Johlman, the youngest daughter of Bodey Johlman, had his heart and always would. He’d thought of no one else for the last five years.
When he’d failed to become a doctor because of the horrible scars on the side of his face—scars he received saving her life—he refused to now ask her to commit to the promise they’d made. They’d planned to marry one another when he returned. He wouldn’t make her stare at his face, at the gruesome reminder, for the rest of his life. He could barely stomach the task every morning.
“And the Johlmans still want this trust, or have they done anything to provoke him?” He flicked the lines, wanting to get home and close himself behind doors once again. The sun felt strange against his skin. He couldn’t control who saw him there out in the open.
Hidden. That’s where he needed to be. That’s where he needed to stay, like the monster he was.
“They’ve done nothing. They go about their business. It’s been pleasant, riding over there without having to hide. Until recently, that is. Your father won’t even allow Dosha to go visit Margaret. They’re related. She should be allowed. It’s a travesty, really.” Ma dabbed at her eye with a gloved finger.
He was sure Ma, too, was missing Margaret Johlman, since the two had met in secret for years. “I can’t heal his mind.” To be clear, he couldn’t heal anything having to do with his father, and he wasn’t about to try. Not when he’d been assured that his very presence near ailing people might cause them to spiral into death, or at the very least, out of their minds, which was the last thing Pa needed. “I’ll spend most of my time in the barn, easing Armstrong’s load in that way.” The only way he was qualified to help. He flicked the lines, finished with the conversation.
As they drew to a halt in front of the house so he could leave Ma by the door, Dosha came rushing down the porch steps. “Kent! You’ve returned! Alice will be so pleased. She’s been waiting for so long.”
He ducked his head, avoiding Dosha and her excitement. If he ignored her, maybe she would let the subject go. He didn’t want to talk about Alice. She should’ve moved on and found another man. Belle Fourche was full of regular folks, people who raised cattle or did any number of things. He was no better than any of them, and probably worse by the standards of many. “She should’ve moved on. I did.” He climbed down from the seat, grabbed his bag, and dropped it at the bottom of the steps, then headed for the lead horse’s halter.
“Moved on?” Dosha stepped forward and around him, blocking his path of escape. “You’ve married?” She glanced in the back of the wagon like she’d missed someone laying there in secret.
“No,” he bit out between his teeth, “and I won’t be. Not to her or anyone else.” He gripped the leather of the halter and took a few steps toward the barn, forcing her to step out of the way.
“Surely you’re going to tell her you’ve returned. You’re the one who asked her to wait. Blake told you not to, but you ignored him and now she’s been waiting for five long years, pining for you.” Her words hit him like a knife to the back.
Dosha had always been one to speak her mind. He’d never tell her as it would hurt her but, that quality was one much like her father. At least she had few others. “I won’t be seeing her, and I forbid you from telling her I’m here.” The distance between them seemed great, but he knew the look he threw over his shoulder was now more intimidating than ever, what with the awful scar down the side of his face.
“You forbid me?” She crossed her arms and raised her brows in obvious challenge. “I’ll let you know when you have any say over what I do or whom I speak to.” Her face narrowed as she pursed her lips in a challenge.
His mother raised one crooked finger over her lips to hide a chuckle.
“I see she has been associating with you.” He spat the words at his mother and regretted them immediately. Those were words he would’ve said in his youth, when he’d tried everything he knew to get Pa to notice him and to think he was worthy.
“I suppose I have, and I’m glad of it.” Dosha turned on her heel and headed back inside.
“Careful where you tread, son.” Ma pursed her lips. “You never know when what you say will touch the ears of God. He doesn’t always take things in the same manner we do.” She lifted the hem of her skirt and dashed inside.
Kent stood staring after the women for a moment. If only God understood any of what he said or felt. God had been distant for many years, and He wasn’t any closer now.
Chapter1
The cow’s soft brown eyes followed Kent Douglas as he made his way along the fence. Her calf lay huddled by her front hooves, though he was already trying to stand. This would be the last calf of the season. By returning when he had, a month before, he’d been able to help with calving, though little else. All that time they had accused him of hiding and he’d been disinclined to correct what was, essentially, a correct assumption.
He moved slowly, angling his body toward the animals. The cow had just finished cleaning off her calf, and he stood on spindly, wobbly legs as he looked back and forth over his new green world. He’d have to gather the calf, check it, then hand it off to Armstrong.
