The stench of alcohol from Willie was so powerful that Juanita had to take a step back. “I don’t think Eli has ever stopped for a drink in his life. He hadn’t slept for two days. I’m afraid he fell asleep at the wheel.”

“Hell, he might a gone off the road in Casper. Or Big Horn, or any other damned place. No sense goin out after him in this weather.”

Willie holstered his pistol and sank back onto the bed. She heard a deep, rattling snore. He was too drunk to ride, so she would have to saddle her horse and search for Eli herself. She dragged her saddle out of the tack shed and went to catch Ginger, a little filly Eli had given her so that she could ride with the children. The horses were pressed tightly together in the cold, their breath rising in curlicues of steam into the night air. She recognized Ginger by the lopsided diamond between her eyes and managed to get a saddle and bridle on her. She reined the horse to the south and let her pick her way along the road toward the front gate.

The filly was winter-shod and the road was icy. Her hooves rang like anvils on the ice. A light snow still fell, but the clouds were thin enough for a sliver of moon to peek through. In the moonlight Juanita could see the curving road ahead and the rise to the southwest that led to the front gate. There were no tire tracks anywhere. She wound her wool scarf tighter around her head, leaving just a slit for her eyes. She had ridden a little over a mile when Ginger lifted her head and pricked up her ears. She whinnied twice and was answered by another horse out there somewhere. Juanita rode toward the sound until she could make out Two Spuds on the pinto, dragging some strange contraption through the snow. She cantered up to meet him.

“That you, Juanita? What are you doin way out here?”

“Looking for Eli.”

“Well, you found him. That’s him behind my horse.”

“Is he alive?”

“He was alive when I found him. His right leg is broke, maybe some ribs too. He must of got lost. He wrecked that Cadillac about a mile from my place.”

Juanita was already out of the saddle, her fingertips pressed to Eli’s throat. She felt a pulse, weak but steady. “We’ve got to get him to the house and warm him up.”

“That’s what I’m tryin to do.”

“What is that thing?”

“Pony drag. Travois. Indian way.”