His jaw muscle proving the steel that lay within ready for action, Rivers asked, "Cowboy, did you happen to ask Montana if it was all right to ride him? He gets a mite ornery when someone tries to ride him but me.'' A slight grin tugged at his lips. "It's true. I haven't see him kill anyone yet." Rivers shook his head slightly as if dreading the sight it would be. "Cowboy, I'd sure hate to see you be the first one." Rivers' hand hovered inches from his forty-five as if he expected the man to make trouble. "I ain't the bossy type. I'm just saying-I wouldn't take a chance on riding Montana if I was you." Montana turned his head and rolled his eyes as the cowhand decended the saddle and let out with a low grunt. Knowing his horse would never hurt anyone, Rivers couldn't help but add to the cowboy's fright. "Whew I'm sure glad you made that decision not to ride him. When he rolls his eyes and makes that noise, it only means one thing, and I sure wouldn't like seeing the mess he was about to make of you." River Rivers is the son of a would-be preacher/lawyer who knows nothing about the true love of the God he preaches about. Tired of years of unjust mistreatment from his father, Rivers leaves home at the tender age of fifteen. Although a city boy, born and raised to city ways of Missoula, Montana, his dream was always to be a cowboy. To get there, he has had to deal with the rough and rowdy ways of the West, fighting fights that wer not of his own choosing, facing the relity of blood on his hands from a killing he didn't ask for, as well as coming to the aid of a Texas rancher who had befallen bad times. There are battles with ruffians to save the honor and reputation of a young lady, as well as dealing with a lippy, headstrong teenager. A strange sort of Christmas and Christmas tree changes Rivers' entire future. Throughout the story, the Lord rides the rough trail right along with this rough-hewn wanna-be cowboy.