Dawn eased across the ranch like a whisper, laying its gold over the pastures until every blade of Bermuda grass shimmered under its own jeweled crown of dew. A silver fog rolled low over the meadow, softening the edges of the world. Out in that gauzy light, a rangy little sorrel colt kicked up his heels, snorting steam into the cool morning air.

Ryder sat on the wide-planked porch, mug of coffee cradled between work-rough palms. He watched the foal with the kind of stillness he’d learned in ...