“There’s still homesteading land in the western parts of the territory.” Custer watched him too intently.

“Won’t be long before the railroad is finished up here and runs into Denver. Can’t turn down the chance to have easier access to eastern markets.”

Custer’s eyes widened as though he’d never considered the possibility. “Reckon that makes a whole lot of sense.”

Jericho watched from the corner of his eye as Buster Bliss took his silver dollar, tucked it into his pocket, and started toward a horse tied up at a hitching post. With each step, the lingering crowd congratulated Buster, but his movements and greetings in response were stilted and forced.

Something wasn’t right. Jericho felt it down to his bones, though he couldn’t explain exactly why.

As if sensing the scrutiny, the man paused in unwinding the lead line of his horse and cast a glance at Jericho. The last rays of sunlight illuminated the man’s eyes behind his spectacles. Big brown eyes. Beautiful big brown eyes he’d recognize anywhere. They belonged to the one and only Ivy McQuaid.

His pulse took off like a runaway train engine. But he forced himself to glance away nonchalantly, as if she was just another boring ranch hand.

No wonder her dismount had seemed familiar. No wonder she appeared so feminine. No wonder she was out of place in that clothing.

Blazing smoke. What was she doing here dressed up as a man?

His mind couldn’t work quickly enough, and before he knew what was happening, Ivy had mounted her horse and was heading away from the ranch to the north toward Fairplay. Why wasn’t she heading east, toward Healing Springs? Wasn’t she living there anymore?

He could hardly hear what Custer was telling him about the benefits of the railroad. All he could think about was Ivy, the fact that she’d been the idiot on the backs of the horses during the Roman-style race. She’d put herself in grave danger. Didn’t she realize that?

His blood turned cold as he pictured her dangling between the two animals, about ready to fall to her death. What had she been thinking? As usual, she probably hadn’t been thinking. She was still foolish and impulsive and wild.

And as usual, none of her brothers knew what she was up to. If Flynn had any idea Ivy was running around South Park and entering the cowhand competitions, he’d give her a whupping she wouldn’t soon forget.

But the truth was, Ivy had never listened to her brothers, had always been headstrong. And she apparently hadn’t changed one bit.