On McLoughlin Trail, my horse refuses to go further. She’s normally good and I didn’t understand. My spurring insistence attracts white-eyed defiance.
I am tired and arguing with my mare is the last thing I wish to do. We return to camp and I decide to check out that area later.
The next morning, I am feeding my horse and a police officer parks at our camp site. He approaches me to speak.
“You need to stay at camp today, ma’am,” he explains. “A woman was attacked on McLoughlin Trail late yesterday and we are searching for the suspect.”