Mel dismounted again when she reached the gate at the boundary fence between the two ranches. By the time she climbed aboard Blue for the third time that morning, it felt natural. She was grateful to her nephew for insisting on helping her train Blue for a mounting routine that minimized the use of her artificial foot and ankle. From there, she urged Blue into a lope again, no longer savoring the sights of the trail, now eager to arrive at heaven.
The cottonwoods around the spring were taller, a couple had died, but still remained beautiful in death. Twenty yards across, there was the still cold, deep pool, fed by a spring in the depths below. Mel pulled Blue to a halt and just sat there, drinking in the sight of a place where her soul could rest. Not even the sea had managed to equal the
