CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was a two-hour ride to Wyola, near the Wyoming-Montana border. Rylie watched the buttes and barren desert landscape give way to pine trees and lush, green forests. It brought back all sorts of memories from her childhood—watching the cattle graze on the long expanse of ranchland owned by her neighbor, Hal, going fishing with Maren and her dad in the creek outside their house, and then, after tragedy struck, stealing one of Hal’s horses and riding as fast and as far away as she could, trying to escape.
When Michael put on his blinker and navigated off the highway, it stirred her from those thoughts. They passed a sign for the True North Luxury Cabin Rentals, just outside of Wyola. It was a well-kept, gated community, nestled among the pines . . . but it was huge. When
