Free On the Mountain by Peggy Ann Craig

years.  When they returned, Prescott had become even more separate from Wade.  They couldn’t have been more different.  Where Prescott had taken on his mother’s personality, Wade was very much his father’s son.  He was the person he was today because of that man. 
    If anything, he missed that most in life.  The relationship he had with his father.  If he thought about it, he probably would have liked that same relationship with a son of his own.  However, he had just celebrated his forty-fourth birthday and his days of marriage and fatherhood had passed him by.  Maybe that was his connection with the boy.  He was the son he never had.
     
    * * *
     
    Anna woke up feeling more content than she could ever recall.  The bed beneath her was soft and more luxurious than anything she had ever slept on before.  Reluctantly, she opened her eyes and stared at the unfamiliar surroundings.  With a start she sat bolt upright.
    The room was no bigger than an oversized horse stall and contained only a small table with a water basin as well as the bed she slept on.  There was a small window high on the far wall and for a brief moment she panicked believing she was in prison.  The night before had temporarily slipped from memory.  Forefront in her mind was the forest fire.  Then she recalled the constable’s accusing voice and Wade’s soothing words.  Wade.
    She sprang to her feet and swung open the door.  On the opposite side two men stood in a kitchen pouring themselves coffee from a tin kettle.  At her unexpected appearance, they both looked up.  With a steady breath, she released the air caught in her throat.  She knew them.
    “Good morning, Peter.”  Prescott was the first to speak.
    She offered a feeble nod, still confused about her whereabouts.
    “Would you like to join us for coffee?”  His face broke out into its usual brilliant smile.
    Again, she nodded.  She blinked hard trying to clear the sleep from her eyes and focus on her surroundings.  For the life of her, she did not recognize the place.  She feared she had lost more of her memory overnight.
    “How was your sleep?”  He placed a steaming mug of coffee into her hand.
    She could only offer a nod of approval.  Without the use of speech she was beginning to feel repetitive.
    “You fell asleep in the armchair in front of the hearth,” he explained.  “Wade carried you into the cook’s quarters.”
    That at least, thankfully, explained her not realizing her whereabouts.  However, she was now troubled by the image of being cradled in Wade Haddock’s arms.
    From across the room the man of her thoughts walked toward her.  She felt his eyes boring into her while he examined her face.  Feeling uncomfortable with his scrutiny, she took a step away from him.
    “Feeling better this morning, boy?”
    She nodded, wondering why all of a sudden she hated the fact he referred to her as a boy.
    “Good,” he said.  “I thought today would be as good a day as any to get you started.”
    She looked up into his face, puzzled.  Those amazingly intense blue eyes pierced her right through.  Immediately, she averted her gaze.
    “If you’re going to live here on the ranch, you’re going to have to learn how to wrangle,” he explained, noticing the look of puzzlement on her face.
    Then giving her a once over, added, “But first you’ll need to get something to eat.  A scrawny little ranch hand ain’t any good to me.”

Chapter 7
    “You ain’t serious, are ya boss?”  Joe looked baffled.  “The boy’s too skinny.  Hell, a heifer straight out of his mama’s womb could easily snap the kid’s neck.”
    Wade ignored his lead hand and proceeded to drag equipment out of a large storage box in the back of the horse stall.  “Since the southwestern roundup has been delayed, I thought it a good opportunity to start training the boy.  It will be good experience.”
    “You mean for the boy to come along for the roundup?”  Joe