Molly wondered what Kingston had meant by “you’re going to need my help.” What did that man know?

Even as they galloped toward the Hawkins Ranch, Molly felt like they were too late. Kingston had an ominous attitude, as if he was sure they didn’t know everything.

“Be on the lookout for someone shooting from cover,” Wyatt shouted. “That’d be Hawkins’s way.”

Wyatt and Falcon rode side by side. They were busy, looking at any spot where boulders and woodlands came close to the trail. Molly smelled dirt from the trail and the cold damp of snow, kicked up by the horses in front of her. They rode southeast away from town, and the wind kicked swirls of snow across the trail. Wind bit at her cheeks, and they felt pink and chapped.

Despite the cold and their terrible mission, it was a day of breathtaking beauty. The mountains rose up before them, and the sun, fully risen but still low in the eastern sky, painted snowcapped mountains in shades of orange and pink, against a sky so blue it made her heart ache.

A magnificent land, Wyoming Territory. One she’d like to have for a home. If they could just get all the danger settled. Not counting blizzards, of course. Or cattle stampedes or rattlesnake bites. But those she’d face. It was the danger that came from evil men targeting her family that she wanted to end.

With the thundering hoofbeats as the music to drive them along, she thought of secrets from her own past and urged more speed from her horse, as if running away from the truth. She heightened her vigilance, looking all around for danger. She’d ridden to the Hawkins Ranch from the RHR when she’d gone there to work. She’d never ridden there from town. She knew nothing of the dangerous parts of this trail, so all she could do was keep her eyes open, keep up, and keep praying.

The trail was wide, and she suspected they didn’t take the shortest route, so they could avoid certain spots.

One thing she did know, Wyatt had been riding for town when he’d been shot. He’d split up from Falcon and Cheyenne, who had followed Ralston’s trail. Wyatt had chased after Rachel, thinking she was part of the gang with Ralston. Now they were riding from town to the Hawkins Ranch. The place Wyatt had been shot was around here somewhere.

They kept moving fast and were going at a full gallop when they charged into Hawkins’s ranch yard. No one had attacked them along the way. And now that they’d arrived, no one poked a head out of the barn or bunkhouse.

The whole place had an abandoned look about it.

Wyatt swung down and hitched his horse by the back door. By the time Molly dismounted, Wyatt had the door open and was inside, shouting Hawkins’s name.