In the loneliness of the small, western town of Iron Spur in the 1870s, Carla Brandon and Blake Devlin find comfort in one another. Teenagers at the time, they suffer more than the usual pangs and common disruptions of their attraction. Blake runs off and in time Carla searches for him. They find one another and their passion rekindles, but being young and on their own in a section of the country and at a time where nothing comes easily, fate tosses them back and forth until they meet for their final encounter, when their passions collide and survival balances on a knife's edge.

Carla’s heartbeat ratchetted up. “Uh, look. Why don’t you go see the creek, and I’ll meet you there? I want to take another walk around town. I want…”

“No! Goddamn, no!”

“Wilson!”

“I didn’t ride all this way to see some stupid creek… unless I see it with you. You don’t want to see it, fine. We’ll walk around town.” Wilson knew better than to offer his hand, so he took Carla by the elbow, and she had little choice but to move along the sidewalk with him. The thump of her heart was almost painful. He said, “I want to show you something. Here, in here.”

Confused and unhappy, Carla stepped into the space between a hardware store and a grain store.

“What?” she asked, looking around. “There’s nothing back here.”

“There.” Wilson pointed and led Carla behind a shed attached to the hardware store.

“What, there’s nothing. What are you doing? There’s nothing to show me.”

“I want to show you how I feel about you.”

Wilson grasped her by the shoulders and leaned his face toward her. She turned her head away but felt Wilson’s lips press against her ear.

“Stop it!” Carla cried.

“No, don’t turn away,” he whispered. “I want you to…”

Carla had her eyes closed, and suddenly, it seemed as if Wilson vanished. He was there, squeezing her arms and breathing on her neck, and then he wasn’t. She opened her eyes.

“Blake!” she screamed.

Blake stood over Wilson, who lay in the dirt, staring up at him in astonishment.

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