It seemed to take forever. As soon as the knob started to turn, Bram grabbed it and flung the door, bursting into the lobby.

“Angie’s been stabbed.” Wyatt tore over to the sofa and gently placed Angie on it.

Cookie slowly rose to her feet, swayed a moment, then said, “We have to get this bleeding stopped.”

The three women staff members rushed to help. Roy seemed to have shaken some of his lethargy and covered the prone woman with the sofa throw.

Bram caught Wyatt’s attention and jerked his head toward the dining room. When both men were out of earshot, he said, “We have to get word to the outside. Angie’s in rough shape, and Cookie isn’t much better. How long before someone notices the supply wagon hasn’t returned?”

“Good question.” Wyatt smoothed his mustache. “It’s Sam’s horse and wagon, but Sam isn’t around his store every day, and Liam takes care of deliveries here. Cookie or Roy place orders over the radio when they need to. It isn’t necessarily a daily trip.” He frowned and looked down, then at Bram. “How long before the sheriff will miss her son . . . or you for that matter?”

“She knows I’m working on the arson fires and gives me a lot of leeway.” Now it was Bram’s turn to study the floor.

Roy joined them. “Did you find Kevin?”

Bram shook his head.

Darby approached, lips tightly pressed. “Angie needs professional help.”

“That’s what we’re working on.” Bram looked up. “How often did you check in with Sam on the two-way?” he asked Roy.

“Only for supplies or emergencies,” Roy said. “Nothing regular. You’re sure the road’s blocked? We can’t get a horse and rider out?”

“I’m sure,” Bram said. “Not on that route at any rate. Is there another way out of here? Besides the Devil’s Keyhole?”

Wordlessly Roy moved to a framed map of the Mule Shoe and pointed. “We’re here. Roughly fifteen miles east is Old Faithful in Yellowstone. There are a number of hotels, a visitor center, lots of people.” He moved his finger north. “The town of West Yellowstone, in Montana, is roughly eighteen miles north. Both routes cover some extremely rough terrain.”

“What about here?” Wyatt traced a route south, then east.

Roy studied the map for a moment. “Yeesss, that would get you to Targhee Falls. You’d be basically riding around the back side of the Devil’s Pass. It’s farther than the other two options, but the route would be passable with the right horses and riders.”

“We can’t wait for someone to notice something is wrong.” Wyatt’s gaze had drifted to Angie’s still form.