Chapter 87

Once we crossed the Yanube on the bridge and headed south, the western edge of the Little Island range appeared in the distance. The recent snowmelt succored the grass so that it brushed our ponies’ bellies as we abandoned the rough road and cut cross-country. The horizon stretched to eternity. Only the hungry raptors soaring the blue sky above in search of prey—hawks and eagles—reminded us that despite the serenity, the desperate, deadly game of life went on unabated.

We located the herd two days later. They were magnificent beasts likely descended from the first horses brought to this world by the Spaniard, Juan de O?ate, in the late 1500s. Led by a big, black, white-blazed stallion well experienced at avoiding hunters, they haunted the buffalo ground along the river south of the Little Islands. The animals enjoyed good pasturage, available water, and the wooded foothills for shelter.