“She passed out.” Cheyenne pulled back Rachel’s thick coat, then opened the top buttons of Rachel’s dark red shirtwaist. The bullet was high on her chest. Better than Cheyenne had feared. It had missed her heart, probably missed her lungs. Maybe it wasn’t deep enough to sever her spine. Maybe Rachel had a chance. Taking frantic assessment of the bleeding wound, Cheyenne dragged her knife out of the sheath at her waist, cut a strip off Rachel’s black riding skirt, and formed a large pad. She pressed it to the wound and felt the hard lump of the bullet. It wasn’t in deep.

Looking away from the trail, Falcon’s eyes flashed with fury. “I didn’t see anyone until a rifle moved, aimed. They hit exactly who they wanted to hit. I think they’d’ve killed us, too, and not minded when they were firing after that first shot, but we weren’t the targets. She was. Even knowing that, we don’t dare round that corner. We have to go back.”

With one jerking nod, Cheyenne said, “Bring me your knife. It’s got a better edge on it. I can feel the bullet. I can almost judge the distance that dry-gulcher was from here because that sounded like a Henry rifle. I know its range, and this had to be near the end of it for the bullet not to have gone in farther.”

Falcon whipped out his knife and extended it to Cheyenne.

She took it and probed the wound. And heard the sickening scrape of metal on metal. “It’s barely beneath the skin. Falcon, she may make it.” Cheyenne was surprised by the sigh of relief. “Hold her still, in case she takes a notion to wake up while I’m doing my ham-handed doctoring.”

They were both silent while Cheyenne gritted her teeth and dug the bullet out. Rachel groaned once and tried to roll away from the pain. Falcon held her in place.

The bullet came free, and the wound bled faster. Cheyenne pressed the pad of cloth hard against the entrance wound. While she worked, she glanced up at Falcon, who wasn’t looking at her. Instead, he kept his eyes on the trail and the woods around them. On guard, as wary as a wild creature.

Quietly, using more torn cloth to tie the bandage on, Cheyenne said with grim certainty, “This has to be connected to Hawkins somehow, doesn’t it? There’s no other reason to want her dead.”

“He didn’t know she was here.”

Cheyenne’s eyes flickered up, then back to her doctoring. “Someone did. And someone knew we were heading for White Rock.”

“They even knew we were taking a route to avoid Casper. And no one knew that.”

“Unless someone listened while we planned it.”

“Another traitor on the RHR?” Falcon came to crouch beside Rachel, regret shining in his eyes.