The iron rim of the wagon wheel groaned against the crushed shale of the Wyoming trail, a sound that Elias had come to measure his life by over the last four months. He adjusted the brim of his wool hat, squinting against the harsh glare of the setting sun over the Wind River Range. Beside him, his twelve-year-old daughter, Clara, held the reins of their two weary oxen, her eyes fixed on the boundless golden plains stretching toward the western horizon.