Chapter 4The next day we hazed our horse herd down out of the wooded Little Islands onto the awesome plains under a bright blue sky broken by puffy white clouds. It was a different world. A fresh breeze ruffled new grass in a rhythm of nature’s making. A swath of torn sod revealed a broad buffalo run, a trace the great beasts had used for centuries. Cut explained deep sandy depressions as wallows where the shaggy creatures covered themselves in dust to defend against insects and other pests. We came across a bleached bison shoulder blade bearing man-made markings in red and black, an Indian signboard.
Two hours after the sun’s zenith, Cut pulled Arrow to a halt as four horsemen materialized out of a thin line of trees marking a stream a hundred yards ahead of us. Warily, I cradled my rifl
