My husband had spent years warning me never to set foot on that farm. So after he passed away and the lawyer handed me the key, saying that from now on the place belonged to me, I was ready to sell it right away and put everything behind me. But before making my final decision, I still wanted to see it once for myself. When the door opened, I finally understood why, all those years, he had never wanted me to set foot there.

The brothers had come seeking to use Jenna just as they had once used him. Instead they left carrying the burden of their father’s lies and the knowledge that survival, if it came, might require humility rather than manipulation. Whether they were capable of that remained to be seen, but it was no longer my war to fight for them.

Spring returned slowly to Maple Creek Farm.

Alberta does not surrender winter gently. It peels it back in layers. Mud first. Wind second. Then patches of stubborn green in the fields, runoff in the low ground, birds returning as if they have forgiven the place for how long it took. The horses shed in drifts. Fence repairs multiplied. Ellis became cheerful in direct proportion to how hard I found mud season.