A rifle shot cracked through the quiet, the bullet slicing past Jed’s ear with a hiss like an angry rattler. He kicked Comet into a hard gallop...

Jed was a rider for the Pony Express, and tonight, he was carrying a vital message – news of a potential treaty with the Sioux, one that could mean peace or war. Jed had been riding for hours, swapping horses at relay stations every ten miles or so. His leather chaps were worn smooth, his face weathered like the canyons he traversed.