“I know every rock and every turn.”

“I can lead your men through it.”

Dante shook his head.

“No,” he said. “It is too dangerous for you.”

“I am already in danger, Mr. Moretti,” I said.

“Vance saw me at the diner. He knows I am alive.”

“He knows I can link him to the shipment that went missing in Chicago.”

“He will never stop hunting me.”

Dante looked at me, his gaze heavy and analytical.

“My men do not take orders from outsiders,” he said.

“They don’t have to,” I said. “I will ride with you.”

“You have Vesper.”

“He is the only horse that can handle that terrain without slipping.”

“But his leg,” Dante said.

“The tendon is bruised, not torn,” I said.

“The poultice I made will reduce the swelling by morning.”

“He can walk the trail. He doesn’t need to gallop.”

Dante reached into his pocket and pulled out a small silver case.

He opened it, took out a thin cigar, but did not light it.

He just held it between his fingers, turning it over.

“You are a strange woman, Mara Vale,” he said.