On a good day, getting to the mouth of the ravine from Henry’s shack took him less than an hour. Getting in the mile-and-a-half to where Topher was would take another hour-and-a-half, give or take. It was a fine day for a ride, and if Henry hadn’t been so tired to begin with, he probably would have enjoyed this one a little more than he was. Still, there was a bright blue, cloudless sky and a breeze from the south that warmed the normally chilly spring air, both making it difficult for him to complain too much.

The big red gelding had a lively step for having worked since before dawn. Henry had spent a lot of time with the horse since coming to the shack and was happy with how he had been coming along. Most of the tightness in the gelding’s jaw and neck had all but disappeared, and his body now had suppleness to it that Henry was pleased with. The gelding’s demeanor was also a far cry from the stiff, worried and mechanical horse he had gotten on that first day back in the fall. Now, whenever the gelding saw Henry coming for him, day or night, rain, snow or shine, he always nickered to him, and when he was ridden the sharp reactiveness he exhibited early on had been replaced with a willing responsiveness. That was also something that felt good to Henry.

He had gotten nearly a half-mile into the canyon when he realized that he hadn’t seen any sign of horses on the canyon floor. He had seen plenty of cow sign, manure and tracks, and he had even seen the hoofprints of the big red gelding from the last time they checked the ravine a few days earlier. But no new sign, which he thought strange. Surely Topher wouldn’t have walked the five-mile round trip trek from where he said the crippled horse was in the canyon to the line shack and back. Even if he did, Henry hadn’t seen any human tracks either. Henry knew he was in the right canyon. It was the only one within a twenty-mile radius. But still, it seemed odd.

Henry continued deeper into the canyon, and as he closed in on the area where the note said Topher would be, he found nothing. No horse with a broken leg, no abandoned packsaddles, and more importantly, no Topher. He stood in the stirrups of his saddle to look farther down the canyon, but saw nothing. He called out twice, but received no answer. Henry came to the conclusion Topher must have meant to write two-and-a-half miles on his note instead of a mile-and-a-half, in which case he wouldn’t see him, nor would Topher have heard him.

He eased the big red gelding back into a walk and had only gone a few feet when Henry noticed something shiny glinting in the sun off to his right. He rode over and found a small mirror leaning against a rock, as if someone had placed it there. It was in the perfect position to catch the eye of anybody passing by, as the angle it was at caught the sun perfectly and reflected it back toward the middle of the canyon. It was then Henry decided that Topher must have placed it there as a sign he was on the right track. Henry was just about to climb down to retrieve the mirror when without warning the big red gelding dropped like a stone out from under him. Almost simultaneously, a very loud CRACK echoed through the canyon.