4
Outside the town of Cortez the houses dwindled into long stretches of fenced pasture land. Horses grazed in twos and threes on the golden and russet grasses, their tails swishing away whatever flies were still lingering past summer.
At this elevation fall was just taking hold, and all the aspens along the two-lane were showy yellow with a few reds. Travis took his time. The drive was soothing to his eyes.
Behind the pastures rose hills of varying heights, and beyond them the more serious mountains. The ridge where Travis had sat in the cold and dark for most of the night was directly behind Bart Parnell’s ranch. Travis turned left off the pavement onto the dirt road leading to Parnell’s place.
He drove past a neat white wooden fence line. He counted eight horses grazing. Ahead was a
