Once out of the gate, the mustangs ran just as Farron predicted they would. The little sorrel, a well-trained cutting horse, spun so quickly that Emaline was almost thrown, but she recovered quickly and pounded after them with Juanita galloping beside her. Juanita’s hair had fallen out from under her hat and it streamed behind her in the wind as she bent low over her horse’s neck. On the far side of the herd she could see Plenty Doors and Two Spuds. Farron and Ignacio were somewhere behind with Eli and Ezra.

They hadn’t ridden more than a hundred yards before Emaline could see how fortunate they were to have that fat, buttery moon to light the way. Even with it, it was hard through the shadows to tell whether a dark patch ahead was a rock or a clump of sage. She was trying to keep an eye out for prairie dog holes, but it was a difficult thing to do at a gallop. She wasn’t sorry that she had come along for this adventure, but she was already so saddle-sore she could hardly bear it and they had a long way to go. She watched Juanita riding hard a dozen feet away and wondered if Juanita was hurting as much as she was. It didn’t look that way, but Juanita did everything with such effortless grace. If she was in pain, she would know how to hide it.

Slowly, the thundering mustangs eased to a halt. The riders on either side reined up and let them lope along until they slowed to a walk. Some of the mustangs had already dropped back. Within the first mile they had cut out forty or fifty of the weak and injured horses and left them behind. The mustangs were moving easily. Eli preferred it that way. There was no point riding hard over rough country in the dark unless you had to.

After they were through running, they let the mustangs graze for a time in the moonlight, then moved them out. Two Spuds and Plenty Doors took the point, Emaline and Juanita rode on the wings with Farron and Ignacio, and Ezra and Eli brought up the rear. They would eat more dust at the back, but they wouldn’t have to ride as hard.