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west," Corey answered, sensing by the urgency in Dev's voice that he had a personal stake in the English girl's safety. A deputy came through the door then, informing the sheriff that he had ten men for a posse.
    "Let's get to it, the day ain't gettin' any younger." Brackston stood up, somewhat put out by his daughter's independence in taking up the tale. He cleared his throat, volunteering to go along. "I feel sorta responsible for the little lady ... seem' how I wasn't able to help stop those dirty thieves."
    His wife began to cry in earnest now, her wailing rising to an irritating pitch. The sheriff wisely told him he'd been helpful enough, and the wails were quieted to a sniffle.
    Ten minutes later the group of volunteers had been deputized and the posse was mounted and headed south out of town, with Dev sharing the lead. Even riding hard, it would take them a while just to reach the scene of the robbery. From there, if Dev was lucky enough to pick up a good set of tracks, they were still far behind the gang.
    The morning sky had been overcast and by late afternoon the rain that had threatened during the day became a reality. A wind came up from the direction in which they were headed; and not ten minutes after they'd reached the low spot between two hills where the stage was stopped, the black, swirling clouds seemed to boil over to release a torrential downpour.
    There were more than a few curses as the men were forced to stop and pull the oiled rain slickers from their saddle bags. Only Dev ignored the rain, letting his thin shirt and pants be drenched through as he summoned all his instincts and the keen, hunting skills the Blackfoot had taught him. The rancher's daughter had been right. A faint and quickly disappearing set of tracks led off through the trees on the south hill and seemed to veer to the west.
    Dev stood looking in that direction, the mounted posse milling impatiently behind him. The rain poured down his face, plastered his shirt until it seemed to be part of his flesh, and still he remained immobile as though he were unaware of the elements worsening around him with each passing minute. There was a bitter, acrid taste in his mouth that had been with him since they'd left Langdon. It would remain until he found Jennifer Bryant.
    He refused to think about what they would do to her. If the gang was Stanner's, and he was sure it was, then a girl as pretty as Jennifer would most certainly fall to Beau Stanner himself.
    The man was a former captain in the Confederacy. He was inaking a name for himself in this area, robbing gold shipments out of Helena, though he had always concentrated before on the much larger shipments headed south of the gold-mining center, not north.
    The people who had been robbed remarked upon the gentlemanly manners of Cap'n Beau, but Dev knew the man was also a fast and accurate shot and didn't hesitate to draw his gun. Another fact puzzled him. Stanner had never before taken hostages. If he was out to abduct women, why hadn't he also taken Corey Brackston? She was pretty, and, by all accounts, the maid Jennifer Bryant was traveling with was not.
    "Well? Which way, Cantrell? Were you able to pick up anything clear enough to follow?"
    Crandall fired the questions in rapid succession. He was tired from the ride and annoyed by the rain that still insinuated itself into the neck opening of his slicker.
    "I say they're headin' for Helena." Dev's voice was loud, rising above the crooning of the wind, and a few of the men groaned at the idea of heading so far south in this weather.
    Crandall digested this in silence, and his regular deputy, J.R. Wells, spoke up after conferring with several of the volunteers.
    "How is it you're so sure, Cantrell? With this damn rain coverin' their tracks, they coulda'
    gone east or west an' we'd be followin' nothin'. If it was me towin' a couple a ladies I shouldn't have, I sure as hell wouldn't drag 'em into Helena!" This elicited laughter from a few of the