Wyatt looked around at the rugged land. Straight ahead it went down some, then climbed again. To the left and right, they’d be skimming along some invisible trail, hoping their horses could walk on tiptoes.

Wyatt gave his chin a jerk of agreement. “Let it go.”

John released the pigeon, and it just stood there, content with the ride. “Hmmm . . . We might have a defective pigeon.”

John picked it up and tossed it in the air. It fluttered a bit, then took off like an arrow, straight ahead.

“It might not be far as the crow flies,” Wyatt said, watching the bird. Cheyenne and Falcon were after it, John next, their horses picking their way. They weren’t going to do any galloping, that was for sure.

“We couldn’t be less like crows.” Molly gave her horse a gentle kick, just enough to tell it to get going.

The pigeon crested the highest peak ahead and vanished. Wyatt made very careful note of where the critter was headed.

One of the crated pigeons in his lap cooed. Another fluttered. Wyatt looked down at them. Five more birds. Figuring some had been trained to go wherever the one they’d already released had headed and some would fly east toward Casper, they’d be real lucky, no . . . real blessed, if they found Hawkins before they ran plumb out of birds.

Was Kevin dead?

It’d happened so fast. Win had seen the sheriff fly backward. She’d heard a second shot as Kevin tackled her. Then her pa had dragged her out from under Kevin.

Win saw blood. She was frantic to help her precious husband, but her father dragged her away.

Was he dead?

No. No, she refused to give up hope. He’d survive, and he’d come for her. He’d bring the rest of his very tough family with him.

She just had to stay alive. Surely her own father wasn’t planning to kill her. But he’d given her to Kingston. Maybe that was his way of saying he didn’t want to kill her himself, but he’d stand by while his brother did.

Her pa held Rachel, who’d gone gray and slumped back against him. She looked unconscious. She hadn’t been out of bed long enough for this harsh, pounding ride.

Win had no idea how to help herself. Try to snatch Kingston’s gun? Throw herself to the ground?

That might work, but not now, not while Kingston was so alert and on edge. But she’d be prepared and take any opportunity that opened. Maybe she could find out where they were going.

A prison break . . . two men shot . . . there would be help coming. A posse if Kevin wasn’t able to come. The thought sent a sob from deep in her chest, and she fought it. No time to cry. Now was the time to be alert and be ready.