Ty said to the stallion, hoping he wasn’t lying. Neither his voice nor the steady pressure he put on the hackamore revealed the weariness that had settled into the marrow of his bones, turning his muscles to sand. For a moment he was afraid that the stallion wouldn’t respond, but the pressure on the hackamore eased abruptly as the horse resumed his awkward walking gait. “That’s it, son,” Ty said encouragingly. “She said the slot was at the top of a little rise.” And that was all she had said through the long hours of intermittent rain and wind. When it wasn’t raining she rode far ahead of Ty and Lucifer. When it rained she rode in close enough that her tracks were always clear for Ty to follow. When it became dark she rode closer still, ensuring that Lucifer wouldn’t get lost. He was certain that it was the stallion’s welfare rather than his own that concerned her. Not once since she had mounted Zebra had she said anything to him.
