No sooner had the heads of the pack string peaked over the rise, than all of the horses came to attention and looked their way. The colt, immediately alarmed by the string’s presence, snorted loudly, then turned away from them and tried to run. He went only a short distance before realizing he was running straight for the buildings. He turned to the east, but then was heading for the road; he turned west but within a few yards came up on the west fence line. The fence was only about four and a half feet tall, a height he could have easily jumped had he been healthy, but as he came up on the fence, something told him he wouldn’t make it if he tried. He didn’t have enough strength in his hindquarters to get him over the fence, and even if he did, he didn’t have enough strength in his shoulder to allow him to land without hurting himself more than he already was. The colt stopped at the fence, turned and snorted at the pack string, which by now was coming up on the herd.

“That ain’t one of ours,” Ben said matter-of-factly pointing at the colt.

“Mustang,” Cat said. “Had a rough time of it, by the looks of him.”

The horses of the herd curiously gathered around the pack string and then began following as they passed by.

“Guess we’d better gather him up,” Ben handed the two mules he was leading to Cat. “See what the boss wants to do with him.” He quietly loped his horse off toward the colt. The colt, in a panic, turned toward the fence and ran into it, producing a sizable gash in his chest that immediately started to bleed. He then turned away from Ben and ran toward the buildings, then back toward the herd, then toward the road and back toward the herd. Ben loped easily behind the colt, trying not to scare him any more than he already was, rather trying to gently move him in the direction he wanted him to go. “Keep ‘em heading toward home,” he called to Cat, who, along with his pack string had turned the herd and was calmly driving them toward the ranch buildings. The colt was beside himself with worry and fear and couldn’t find a way to turn. Everywhere he looked there was potential danger, and possibly death. He thought about making a run back toward the open gate, but instinctively knew the man on the horse would easily overtake him. He just didn’t have enough left in him to make it. Finally, in an act of desperation and with the pain and weakness in his shoulder and hips getting the best of him, he was forced, almost out of natural intuition, to turn and fall in behind the herd. It was the one thing centuries of evolution told him would be safe. The colt slowed from a panicked gallop to a canter, to a trot and finally to a limping walk. Ben and his horse followed suit, also dropping down to a walk, and remained a comfortable distance behind the colt.