One Day in a Small-Town Desert, chapter 16, page 8

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Pí‘oro Kılímo grabbed a couple lengths of rope off a nail in the stable wall and reached for Fírí’s duffel bag.

“Give me that,” he whispered.

She shook her head as she took the roan horse’s bridle in her hand. “I’ll carry it ahead of me for now. Let’s get out of here.”

Pí‘oro shoved the rope in a saddlebag. He doubted she could ride with that bulky bag in her lap, but they didn’t have time to argue. He led the Zhíno-laden horse, a gray mare, out of the stable and through the back gate. Much to his surprise, Fírí successfully led the roan out of the yard right behind him.

“Put your left foot in that . . .” he began as he closed the gate.

Fírí deftly vaulted herself up into the saddle, her duffel already balanced on the horse’s back. Grinning widely, she whispered, “Come on, old man. Let’s go!”

Not quite the city girl I took her for.

Pushing through the lingering pain in his legs, back, and arms, Pí‘oro heaved himself on top of the gray, careful not to kick Zhíno, who was laid over the horse’s rump.

“That way?” Fírí pointed at the main trail northward.

“For now.” Pí‘oro tapped his horse’s ribs and she started walking.

Fírí flicked her reins and kicked the roan’s sides. The horse jumped forward into a gallop. Without a glance over his shoulder, Pí‘oro nudged his gray to chase.

As the sun peeked over the horizon, they tore up the sandy trail. The wind whipped their faces, cool and fresh.

Pí‘oro held back a whoop of joy because of the police, but the urge stayed strong in his chest. They were free. The adventure had just begun.

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