Two Spuds had chosen the route well. They hit a road or two and crossed a set of railroad tracks, but they didn’t encounter a fence or another human being all night. By dawn they were across the Powder River and well to the northwest, moving along steadily. All the riders kept their distance from the black, who worked almost as another cowpoke to keep the bunch going in the right direction. He would canter alongside or drop to the back. Occasionally he’d move up and find a high place where he could watch the band move past and take a long look for predators, then he’d fall in with the herd again.

“Look at that,” Farron said to Eli. “I swear, he knows exactly what we’re doin and where we’re headed. It’s like he knew soon as we opened the gate. That’s a spirit horse, I’m tellin you. He aint natural.”

“I hear them bites you got are natural enough.”

“That’s the spooky part about him. He’s a ghost horse, but he’s real as all hell when he wants to be.”

“I swear, they gave you something in that hospital that made you jump the tracks, Farron. You aint been exactly right since.”

“I aint about to argue that.”

Ezra cantered up beside them. “I got to give you one thing, Farron. When you decide to rope the wrong horse, you pick a beauty. I’d like to see Ben take a run at breakin him, but I don’t want the boy hurt.”

Farron grinned. “He’s welcome to try, only don’t ask me to rope him for you.”

“Naw, we got him headed the right way now. That’s a horse that was meant to run loose.”

Farron went to head off a little bunch that had split from the rest. Ezra rode alongside Eli for a time, watching the herd spread out ahead under a river of stars. “Damn, that’s a pretty sight,” Eli said. “I don’t believe I’ve had this much fun in forty years.”

“Me either, long as we don’t get run in for horse theft.”

“If we do, I don’t believe they’ll hang us this time. If we end up in jail, I hope the grub is good.”