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quiet. This man would kill Dory with no more regret than he would feel swatting an insect.
    “Don’t hurt her!” Dory cried again.
    Another gunshot rang out at the back of the train. Eden flinched. Some poor woman’s wails told Eden that someone else had just taken a bullet. Afraid her mother might be next, Eden cried, “Our valuables are on the floor. They’re worth a small fortune. Take them and go.”
    Tightening his meaty hand over Eden’s hair, the bandit bent his head and slurped his tongue over her lips. Only by sheer force of will was she able to keep herself from gagging. His front teeth had rotted into little brown snags. His spit tasted like vinegar. When he straightened, his battered gray hat sat askew, revealing greasy brown hair gone pewter gray at the temples.
    “You’re more valuable than a handful of trinkets,” he informed her with a leer. “Across the border, a little redhead like you will bring top dollar.”
    The man at the rear of the car yelled, “We gonna keep her, Wallace? Hot damn! We’ll have a fine time tonight!”
    Oh, how Eden wished for a gun. Ace had taught her well. With her Colts at her hips, she could have taken on all three men and been the only shooter left standing when the smoke cleared. Instead she could only remain there with her neck twisted to ease the pain of the brutal grip on her hair.
    “Why not?” her assailant replied with a laugh. “If nothin’ else, she’ll give us some fun.”
    Before Eden could react, the man bent at the knees, tossed her over his shoulder, and started back up the aisle. “Collect the rest of the loot!” he barked. “We need to make tracks!”
    Grabbing for breath, Eden made fists in the tails of the robber’s filthy jacket, her head spinning from the rush of blood to her brain. She heard Dory screaming and could only pray one of the bandits didn’t silence her with a bullet. Relief swamped her when no shots rang out. Her rump collided with the door as her captor drew it open. Then the cold May air cut through her clothing, its iciness nipping at her skin.
    It hit Eden then. These horrible men planned to abduct her. She needed to do something to save herself. Only what? Physically, she was no match for them, and she had no weapon. Her upper body bounced with each fall of her captor’s feet as he descended the steps from the platform. Then she heard gravel crunching beneath his boots.
    Oh, God, oh, God . If he got her on a horse, her chances to escape would be nil. Frantic, she pummeled his spine with knotted fists. When that didn’t slow his pace, she grabbed hold of his jacket and walked her hands up his back until she was nearly upright. Then she went after his head, knocking off his hat as she cracked him in the temple with her elbow. He grunted and staggered.
    “Leave off, bitch!”
    Eden’s temper, always the bane of her existence, flared hot. Bitch? Hissing air through clenched teeth, she clawed at his ear and tried with everything she had to bury the sharp toes of her Dongola kid boots into his groin. He roared with rage, grabbed her arm, and threw her to the ground. Eden rolled and scrambled to her feet, but before she could run, he was upon her. She nailed him square in the eye socket with her right fist and was about to slug him again when he retaliated in kind, his bunched knuckles coming at her so fast that they connected with her jaw before she could duck.
    Black spots danced before Eden’s eyes. She blinked and staggered, determined to remain on her feet. But her knees turned to water and down she went. The world had gone strangely gray—a swirling eddy of earth, trees, and sky that sucked her into a black vortex.

Chapter Two
    The unmistakable smell of blood wafted to Matthew Coulter’s nostrils on the cold, rain-washed morning air. Faintly sweet with a metallic bite, the scent rolled over the back of his tongue, putting him in mind of how water from his canteen tasted after he’d been two days on the trail