“They’ve got my wife.” He ripped the reins loose from the hitching post, swung up on his horse, and kicked the tough critter into a gallop from the first leap.

He bent low over his saddle, almost lying down. It helped the horse make good time and kept him from falling off. He needed both.

Storming out of town, his mind was wild with fear. Win, he had to get to Win. Her father had kidnapped her. The man was using his own child as a hostage. They’d known he was evil, but this twisted Kevin’s belly into a knot.

Groping for the source of the blood, he found a bullet crease in the back of his head. He’d had one of those before in this stupid territory. He tugged the kerchief off his neck and pressed it to the fast-bleeding wound. The pressure hurt so bad it nearly made him pass out. He clung to the horse, fighting for his vision to clear.

At last it did. He was a decent tracker and saw two horses that’d veered off the main trail he’d taken out of town. Fresh tracks, deep. They had Win and Rachel. Two men, each riding double, which would tire the critters out faster.

Dead ahead was one of the roughest stretches Kevin had seen since coming to Wyoming Territory. Honestly, Wyoming was shaping up to be little improvement over Kansas.

And then he thought of his wife. That was something he’d never had back home. He had to get to her, had to save her before her father did something no father should ever be able to do.

He’d’ve been flat out sick if he had the time.

Wyatt reached the top of a steep climb. The winter wind battered at him as he studied more steep climbing ahead, some down, some up. The wildest land he’d ever known. And he’d known plenty.

He realized he’d never been in this area before. The rocks they just climbed had seemed unclimbable by a horse.

Falcon and Cheyenne were both afoot, studying the rocks, hoping for any sign of a trail.

Looking up from where she’d hunkered down, Cheyenne said, “My horse just stopped. I hoped it’d keep going, maybe follow the scent of another horse that’d passed this way. Instead, it balked, and I knew not to push it. I might get it going in the wrong direction.”

Falcon rose, shaking his head. “It’s solid rock in every direction, the snow swept clear.”

“We’re going to have to release a pigeon.” John lifted the bird, which had settled contentedly on his lap for the whole climb.

“Are we ready?” John asked. “We all watch, pick up its direction, and go after it as fast as we can until we can’t see it anymore.”