By that time, Sven Isby had deemed the horse at least semirecovered from its day-long gallop, but the old smith was still very displeased with Caleb for taking the animal again. The Peacemaker rode out of town with dark glares from the Swede and many prayers from the other residents. The horse, for its part, didn’t seem to mind the additional exertion now that it and the human had reached some kind of understanding about things. Though Caleb would have happily paid for a saddle and some stirrups, it wasn’t that bad a ride once he became accustomed to the animal’s gait. Caleb held it to an easy lope on the way out to Warner’s place. There was no hurry, and only the darkness would save him from Schmidt’s long eye. Standing out like a lighthouse in a sea of tall grass, the lights from the A-bar-W were visible miles before he got there. Though his skin itched terribly as he rode closer, certain he was about to hear the hiss of an augmented bullet cutting through the grass, he rode within a half mile of the ranch before he pulled the horse up and slid off its painted back.
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