Ranger Parker. Mr. Pendergrass would go straight to the sheriff if Belle showed up at his home."
"Even if Belle did not go to them, her friends may still be some help. Thank you, Mrs. Alston."
Travis stood up and turned to leave.
"I will see you to the door, Ranger."
"Thank you, Mrs. Alston."
Travis reached for the doorknob and turned the knob.
"Wait! I just thought of another person she might go to."
"Who?" asked Travis, his hand resting on the doorknob.
"Hank Black Hawk. He and my son were the best of friends. Hank and his family live in a cabin on a piece of land my son gave him. Belle could have gone to him for protection, especially since he would be the closest person for her to go to. Give me your pad, and I will draw you a map."
Travis took his pad out of his vest pocket and handed it to Mrs. Alston. She sketched a map to Hank's cabin and handed the map to Travis.
"Oh, Ranger, be careful when you approach Hank's cabin. Let him know right away that you mean no harm, so he does not shoot you."
"Thanks for the advice."
As Travis opened the door, Mrs. Alston reached out and grabbed his arm. "Please find my granddaughter."
He gazed at the picture of the girl clutched in his hand. "I will."
Travis surprised himself with his answer. He never told a family member he would find their lost loved one; he would only say he would try, but this time everything was different, this time, he needed to believe he would find Belle.
Everyone in Black Hawk's cabin went to bed early, but no one slept.
"I don't know what to do," said Hank as he lay in bed next to Little Dove.
"Hank, if you don't teach her what she wants to know and send her back to live with her grandmother, do you think she will try to run away and go after the murderers?"
"Yes, I'm sure of it."
"And do you think she would succeed in running away?"
"Yes."
"So, if you do nothing, she will go after those men and be killed."
"I know. I will have to teach her."
Hank watched the sunrise as he drank a cup of coffee. He contemplated his decision and felt its weight. He could be sending his best friend's daughter to her death. Knowing the fear dancing in his gut would work against him, he gripped his emotions and put them away.
Hank drank his last gulp of coffee and said a silent prayer for wisdom and guidance.
He heard Little Dove clanging cookware as she prepared to cook breakfast. Hank took a deep breath and went inside.
"Good morning," he muttered to his wife.
"Good morning, Hank. Pour yourself another cup of coffee and sit down; breakfast will be ready in a few minutes."
Hank did as his wife asked.
"Can I help?" Fury asked as she walked into the kitchen.
"No, thank you," Little Dove answered, "breakfast is almost done. You can get a cup of coffee and sit with Hank."
Hank's eyes followed Fury. He watched as she fought to control her shaking hands as she poured her coffee. She took a sip then sat down next to him.
After breakfast, Hank left the house, leaving the women to clean up.
The ladies were stacking the dishes in the cupboard when he returned.
"Little Dove, if you don't mind, I need to talk to Fury."
"Sure. Fury go ahead with Hank; I can finish up."
"Let's go for a walk," Hank said to Fury.
She nodded then followed him out the door. They walked in silence until they reached the back of the barn. Fury saw bottles lined up atop a fence rail.
"So, you have decided to help me."
"Yes, God help me, I have. Show me how well you shoot."
Hank handed Fury a gun.
She aimed and shot at the bottles, hitting most of them.
"You are a good shot."
"I know," Fury replied with a slight tone of smugness in her voice. "Papa made sure I learned how to shoot."
"Don't be so sure of yourself. I said you were a good shot, but to go after murderers on the run, you need to be a great shot."
Fury swallowed her pride; she knew he was right.
"You've practiced enough for today."
"But we've only been out here an hour."
"I know, but you need rest. You're still on the mend."
"I'm all right, Hank."
"Fury, let me give you some advice. If you want to stay sharp, you need to take care of yourself. Being exhausted will get you killed."
Fury sighed," All right, you win."
"Good, but before we go in the cabin, I want to show you a couple of things."
"What?"
"Follow me."
Fury followed Hank to a fence that ran along his pasture. He propped his arms on the top rail.
"Look there," Hank said to Fury as he pointed to a painted horse running in the field.
"Nice horse."
"It's yours."
"Mine? Hank, I can't take your horse."
"You can, and you will. You asked me to help you, and getting you a good horse is part of the deal. Watch her run."
Fury watched as the horse galloped in the tall grass.
"Mighty fast, isn't she?"
Fury's eyes were glued to the horse. She was amazed that an animal that fast could move with grace and agility.
"What you want to call her?"
"Huh?" Fury's attention focused on the horse. "She is swift."
"All right, Swift it is?"
"Wait. What?"
"Her name—Swift."
"I
