Since they were already well south of the ranch, they shifted their direction and rode hard toward the east. While they galloped, Greta alternated between pleading with God for help and silently chastising Astrid for being so foolish to believe a hot spring would help her—if that’s what the Indian had told her. It was just as foolhardy as thinking that panning for gold in the river in Fairplay would recoup the money they’d lost in the stagecoach robbery.

Astrid had never been an easy child, not even when she was younger. But Greta never imagined taking care of Astrid would only get harder—nearly impossible. With the difficulties, who else would love and care for Astrid? Certainly not the stepfamily they’d left behind in Illinois. Certainly not an orphanage.

Astrid had no one left but Greta. And in spite of how hard and complicated her half sister made life, Greta loved her and wanted the best for her.

When the grassland began to rise into the hills covered in ponderosa pine, Wyatt slowed his horse. He led her for a distance along a winding creek until the vegetation on both sides became so overgrown that they were forced to ride through the water itself. After a dry summer, the creek was low and sluggish.

When they stopped to allow their horses a drink, a moose stepped out of the brush a dozen paces away on the opposite bank. Enormous, with antlers spanning six feet across, the magnificent creature took its time drinking, its large muzzle and the furry flap of skin underneath dipping into the creek.

She and Wyatt remained motionless to avoid drawing the moose’s attention. Though it seemed peaceful enough, Wyatt explained that the creature would charge at them if it felt threatened.

After the moose wandered off, they resumed their hunt for the hot spring. Wyatt didn’t speak as they rode, and he paused frequently to listen, the trickling of the creek the only sound along with the rustling of aspen and cottonwood leaves.

Finally, after passing a bend in the creek, Wyatt stopped and held out his hand toward Greta in a signal to halt. He pressed a finger to his lips and pointed ahead to a clearing. Tied to a tree and grazing in the long, dry grass was a horse. Their horse. Dolly.

Swift relief clogged Greta’s throat, making speech impossible. She swept her gaze over the rest of the open area in a frantic attempt to find Astrid. But except for the horse, the area seemed deserted. What if a group of Indians had come to the hot spring for a bath, found Astrid there, and had taken her captive?

Wyatt slipped down from his mount and tied the lead line around a nearby aspen. Greta wasn’t sure her legs could hold her, but she dismounted too, forcing herself to remain strong.