Falling, he covered Win to protect her, but his weight was out of his control, everything was. Then blood trickled past his face as it dripped from somewhere. He was foggy. He clawed at his pistol, dragged it out of the holster, and fumbled so it slid under the sheriff’s desk.

His eyes dropped shut. He sagged on top of Win.

The jailhouse door crashed open and thudding footsteps rushed in. Echoing as if from a long distance.

Kevin heard Win scream. He fought the odd weakness, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Then Win was gone, jerked out from under him. He heard the prisoner holler, a happy sound for someone locked up.

“You got ’em both.”

“Move fast.” Kevin recognized Oliver Hawkins’s voice. “Folks in town heard the shots. Bring the women. No one’ll shoot through them.”

Kevin faded away to the sound of his wife screaming his name. Darkness pulled him under.

“Pure rock.” Falcon scowled at the ground.

“We’ve got a direction,” Wyatt said, “and it figures there’s a trail up.”

They’d been pushing hard all morning. Molly had watched a mountain loom closer with every mile. Her stomach twisting with dread that they’d have to somehow climb the monster. But if Hawkins rode through here, then it stood to reason there must be a way. But it was all sheer rock, steep and treacherous.

“If we release a pigeon, it’s just gonna fly straight over the mountain. It won’t help us at all.” The sheriff tore his hat off his head and whacked his leg.

“It’ll tell us if we’ve got mountain climbing to do.” John dismounted and came for the crate.

“Whatever else is ahead, there’s no trail a buckboard can handle.” Wyatt climbed down off the seat.

John opened the crate lid just a crack, reached in, and gently eased out one of the homing pigeons, then closed the lid quickly. He looked around. “Falcon, start up the mountain as far as a horse will take you before I release the bird.”

“I think I’m about as far as my horse will take me now.”

“Let’s give them their heads and see if they can pick out a trail,” Cheyenne said. “This horse I’m riding is a mountain-bred mustang, and he can climb almost like a mountain goat.”

She loosened her reins and kicked the horse, and it surprised her by turning to its left. Not down like a horse might go when it could no longer climb.

Cheyenne looked behind her at Wyatt. Molly saw him nod. He said, “Give the critter its head for a while.”

The horse wandered along, so surefooted Molly marveled at it.

Then it chose a spot Molly certainly couldn’t see as a trail and headed up.

“I’m following her.” Falcon rode after his wife. Sheriff Corly went next.