Zane couldn’t see enough to be sure. The coat wasn’t quite red enough for his Herefords, but the trees cast shadows that could make it look darker.

“We’ll need to take him out to the north,” Shad said. “It’ll be hours bringing a calf around the hills. But it’s gotta be done. I doubt it’ll make it on its own.”

“I’ll hike in there. I don’t want a horse breaking a leg on those boulders.” Zane reined his horse toward the spot Shad pointed to.

Cattle rarely went into that tight stretch of steep woods, but a calf or two made its way in once or twice a year. Zane considered that it might be worth the work to put up a fence so it wouldn’t happen again.

He hitched his horse low so it could graze, then climbed over boulders, around massive tree trunks and downed logs, and pushed through bramble that he’d’ve never tackled if he didn’t have a calf to save.

He broke through the heavy woods only to see a horse tied up, tucked back here where no saddled and bridled horse should ever be.

And he saw the brand on its flank. Horace Benteen’s brand. A man with no good intentions toward Zane’s wife and maybe downright evil intentions toward his sister.

A man who was missing. A man who’d left the area ... or gone into hiding.

And here was Benteen’s horse hidden on Two Harts property.

Zane forgot caution. He turned and ran.

IT WAS STIFLINGLY HOT IN THE WORKSHOP.

Michelle unbuttoned the top button of her shirtwaist, rolled up her sleeves, and, beyond that, accepted the heat as part of summer life in California.

Instead of fretting about what she couldn’t change, she tightened the water pipe and turned a valve. Water gushed in with great force, and the wheel spun.

A smile bloomed on her face. She dipped her hands in the cool water, splashed her face, and enjoyed the dribble of water that went down her neck. The dampness turned cool as the fast-spinning wheel created a bit of a breeze.

Could she make a fan of some kind? To cool a house down?

What else?

This water had a lot of force. The wind was pumping the windmill fast, and that wouldn’t always be true. The windmill was also slightly higher than the workshop, so that increased the water pressure. Maybe she could build a water tank and set it even higher. They had water towers in some cities. Then her modest little waterwheel would have even more power. She could find a way to use the waterwheel to pump the water back to the tank and circulate it over and over through the machine it was running.

What else could she hook up? What could she run?

What things could she invent that had never been inventedbefore? Her only limits came from a limited imagination. And her imagination was excellent.

It would take time, but she had an endless supply of that. Nothing would stop her.

Her spirits soared.

ZANE’STERROR SOARED.

He fought his way out of the steep, nearly impenetrable woods.

Shad had gone on ahead. He was within earshot but only just.

“That’s a horse from the Benteen ranch!” Without wasting another breath, Zane charged for his buckskin, tore the reins loose from the low bush, and vaulted into his saddle.

He galloped toward home, squeezing every drop of speed he could out of his stallion, and the buckskin was a game critter. He heard shouting behind him and hoofbeats coming.

Michelle wasn’t alone. Annie wasn’t alone.

Zane knew it. But Horace Benteen was a crafty man and a cruel one. Who might he kill to get what he wanted? He’d had Todd killed. Why couldn’t he slip up behind Rick and knife him in the back? Same with Neb.

Same with Michelle and Annie, any of them. All of them.

Zane had been so confident just moments ago.