That wasn’t so bad—

The first jaw-shattering buck almost threw me. I held on to both the latigo and his mane with both hands.

He threw a couple of spine-cracking kicks, gave another buck, then shot toward the narrow slot in the rocks.

I drew my legs up near his shoulders to keep from raking them against the rough stone. Once clear, he galloped hard toward a stand of pines with low-hanging branches.

I pulled on the twine reins, but all I did was tear up my hands.

He slowed and aimed for a large branch.

“You’re a rotten, lop-eared . . .” I ducked forward and lay flat on his back, wrapping my arms around his neck.

The rough bark scraped my back. Something ripped, and dried needles showered me.

The mule stopped on the other side of the grove, breathing hard.

“I’m staying on your back like bubble gum on a bedpost. Stop with the nonsense and let’s head to Mule Shoe. There’s food there, remember?”

He put his ears back to listen to me, but otherwise remained stationary.

Maverick and Holly had kept pace with the mule’s wild run. They sat and stared at us.

The dogs had found their way to civilization before. Maybe they could inspire the mule to move. “Maverick, Holly, go home! Come on, guys, let’s go home. Kibble? Cookies?”

The dogs perked up at my offer. They stood and began to walk south. The mule followed. Praise the Lord! Maybe the whole idea of God needs to be revisited. If I survive.

I had no idea if we would walk in circles, stroll into downtown Targhee Falls, end up in Yellowstone, or fade into legend—the woman in shadow, riding a mule, with two ghostly dogs ever present at her side. At least we were moving.

My stomach reminded me that the last food I’d eaten was sometime yesterday. The granola bar had disappeared when I was taken to the mine. I was starving. Spam with cheese and refried beans now seemed like gourmet food.

The sun was dropping in the sky. If these animals were heading home, they didn’t need the sun and would be able to find it even in the dark. But if no one had arrived to help at the resort, I’d be riding right into the middle of a spree killer’s hunting ground.

Of course, if the killer had followed me, as I believed he had, then had he gone back to the resort or after another rider?

We continued south and a bit east. Nothing looked familiar, just ponderosa pines, mountains, mountains, and more mountains. The mule grew sweaty under my legs, and I’m sure my deodorant had given up as well. At least bears, cougars, wolves, and other critters downwind of us would move on.