CHAPTER 5

The small band of seventeen wild horses was in its third day of what would ultimately be a five-day journey to better grazing. The horse leading the way was a sixteen-year-old bay mare with a star on her forehead with her foal, a dark gray, almost black, stud colt running and playing by her side. Not far away was the mare’s baby from the previous year, a bay filly now old enough to fend for herself, and the one from the year before that, a dun filly, was also nearby.

On the outskirts of the herd was her baby from three years ago, a gray stud colt like his father. This colt, already fifteen hands tall and nearly one thousand pounds, was normally of a playful and curious nature. However, recently he had begun to develop a slightly more aggressive attitude toward others and had been trying to establish his dominance over several members of the herd, including his mother. His efforts had been quickly and severely reprimanded by the herd’s patriarch (the gray colt’s sire), a big graying, almost white, stallion with a thick neck, broad chest and powerful hindquarters. The stallion’s mane was white at the crest of his neck, and turned darker toward the ends. The end of his mane, which hung nearly a foot below his neck, was still black. The hairs of his tail looked very similar…white at the head of his tail, black on the end.

As the patriarch, the stallion was not only responsible for maintaining structure in the herd, but was also responsible for fending off the numerous advances from other stallions. Among the gray stallion’s many battle wounds suffered while defending his band was a deep scar on his upper lip from the kick of a young rival stallion suffered three years before. The gray was in his prime then, and the young stallion had been no match for his power, speed and experience. Within minutes of making their initial contact, the young stallion had already taken an unrelenting beating and had turned tail to run when the gray reached out to give him one final bite. Instinctively, the young stallion kicked out and caught the gray square on the mouth. The gash was severe enough to make it near impossible for the gray to eat for days on end, but even though he lost weight and strength during that time, very few challengers would come his way.

The old gray stallion came by his speed, stamina and tenacity honestly, a product of generations of breeding which began in the year 1532. It was the year another gray stallion was being ridden by a Spanish soldier by the name of Raul Gomez Mendoza through the southwest of the new world while under the command of the famous conquistador, Hernando Cortés. Cortés, who was back in Mexico at the time and in a battle with a fierce rival, Nuño Beltrán de Guzmán, for the rule and exploration of the area, had secretly sent a small party north in search of gold and other riches.