The fences had been put up, but they were little more than simply significant. The horses were wild, the people were free. It was an honor code that the humans would not cross the fence.
And yet, now from the northern side, near Windherd, was a truck driving up with a horse trailer attached. The two men in the truck had their eyes on the horses.
A sole look at them told you of their stupidity. Why wear ski masks in the heat of summer and in broad daylight? For that matter, why go stealing horses in the early afternoon? They were quite obviously missing a few keys in their mental pianos.