A young woman was bathing there as if she were alone in paradise. He turned his face away out of respect, but it was too late. That innocent beauty seemed strangely familiar to him. She was the most sought-after woman in the territory.
But what was he doing on his lands? The July sun was burning brightly on the Arizona mountains. When Ezekiel Morris rode to the stream that cut through his lands.
At his age, the rancher bore on his face the marks of time and loneliness. His calloused hands held the reins with the same firmness with which he held his pains.
It had been five long years since he had lost his wife and his little daughter. And since then, that isolated property was all that remained of his life.
The silence of the mountains had become his only companion as he approached the bend of the stream; yes, he heard the soft sound of the running water mixed with something else. A delicate movement disturbed the morning peace.
