Jed reached the mountaintop and sat to rest, weary from the long climb under the hot July sun. He knew the horse he sought couldn't be far. Scanning the valleys below, he spotted its tracks descending the far side. He was determined to capture it, though better men—like Tom Raglan, the state's best rancher, and his cowboys—had tried and failed, declaring the animal too wild to be caught.
After a painful descent, Jed drank from a cool river. Further down the valley, he saw the black horse standing in the shade of a tree. He hid and watched. It was the largest, blackest horse he had ever seen. Jed, who had grown up caring for horses, dreamed of owning a stallion and a mare with some land to breed and sell them. That was all the happiness he desired.
Night fell. The horse moved to graze by the river. Jed watched before finding a soft spot to sleep. At dawn, he found it grazing again, ever alert—a true mark of the wild. Jed approached. The horse stopped eating and watched him. Jed's heart pounded, for men called it a killer. Still, he moved closer until, fifteen meters away, the horse reared, then screamed and galloped down the valley. Jed sank to the ground, exhilarated. He had come closer than anyone; the horse was no killer.
For six days, Jed followed, resting when it rested. The terrain grew treacherous: high valley walls strewn with boulders, few trees, and a soft, wet floor. One night, thunder and rain awoke him. The next day was cold and wet, the valley floor softened by rain. Toward evening, he saw the horse again, but this time it smelled danger, its nostrils flaring.
Jed thought of a wildcat or bear and drew his knife. As he cautiously approached the horse, the silence shattered. The horse screamed in fear and bolted. Simultaneously, a deep rumble came from the rocks. A landslide—tons of wet earth and stone—crashed down the mountainside.
When the air cleared, Jed climbed over the fallen debris. On the other side, the horse was trapped, its legs sunk deep in mud. The more it struggled, the deeper it sank. Jed moved carefully; the mud tried to suck him down too. When he reached the horse, it was buried up to its stomach, able to move only its head. Overjoyed to touch it, Jed said, "Don't struggle. I'll get you out!"
Suddenly, the horse bit his arm. Jed bit his lip to stay silent, calming the animal with his free hand until it released him. It then pressed its nose to his face. They were friends at last.
Jed studied the problem. He couldn't lift the horse; his rope was too weak. He began digging mud with his hands, but the holes refilled. He ran to the landslide rocks, filled his shirt with them, and dug again, this time placing rocks in the holes to form a stable wall. He worked all day until his hands were bloody from the sharp stones.
Knowing night would frighten the horse, he cut small trees for bedding and spent the night speaking soft, calming words. At dawn, he brought grass for the horse and resumed his slow, hard labor. By the next afternoon, he had built a rock wall on one side and dug near the horse's front legs. The rocks firmed the mud, allowing the horse to move slightly. As pressure eased, it placed one front hoof on the rocks, pushed against the wall, and lifted its body a little.
Jed tied his rope around the horse's neck and pulled. The horse fought with all its might, raising its other front leg and pushing with its hind legs. Together, they moved toward solid ground. Jed collapsed, exhausted and hungry after three days with little food or sleep. Half-asleep, he felt the horse's nose nudge his face. He jumped up, fetched grass, and the horse responded with friendly noises and playful pushes.
A week later, a big black horse stopped near Tom Raglan's ranch house. A small man dismounted. Raglan stared in disbelief. "You got him."
"I got him, Tom, just as I said I would."
Raglan, a horseman himself, needed no explanation; Jed's tired face, torn hands, dirty clothes, and thin frame told the story. "Jed," he said, "that horse will kill anyone but you. I don't want it, but I haven't forgotten my promise. I'll give you some land and the old house behind the ranch if you keep him there. I'll pay you thirty a month if you let me breed my mares to him. I want his bloodline. You can keep every seventh foal for yourself."
Jed put his arm around the black horse. It was his. His dream had come true—all at once, it was almost too much.