Authors: Chris Scott Wilson
Pete sniffed, then winked and patted White-Wing's shoulder.
Quantro nudged the buckskin stallion with his heels and pulled the reins over the horse's neck so it turned northwards. North to Colorado. The stallion jerked his head, rattling the bit between his teeth, then stepped out with long powerful strides.
***
As the sun was dying Quantro reined in at the top of a narrow pass and looked back down to the canyon below, at the switchback trail he had ridden up less than two hours ago. He was sure he could see three horses moving down there. As they came closer he could make out two riders. One was astride a tough paint pony and leading a pack-horse. The second rider was small, perhaps a woman.
Quantro looked at the sky in the west. It was shot through with a broad band of red, like foxfire, the pale orb of the sun sinking behind the majestic vista of the blue Sierra Madre Mountains.
He smiled and patted the buckskin's neck.
It would be a good day tomorrow.
THE END