Page 137

“I can’t see from here.”

“You stay where you’re assigned.”

She pointed toward the open ground beyond the trailer. “I’d have a clear view from that rise.”

“That rise is inside the restricted section.” Harold walked over, clearly tired and no longer interested in debating rules. “Those boundaries are there for a reason. You want a different observation position, you ask. You do not move into a crosshatched area, understood?”

The woman muttered something Jodie couldn’t hear but stepped back.

Harold nodded once. “Thank you.” Then he turned and headed toward the receiving pens because someone was already calling his name. The BLM replacements still seemed to need directions every five minutes.

Jodie turned back to her sheet.

“Bay gelding coming,” Willow announced.

She found him. “Ranger. Confirmed.”

Check.

Photograph.

A mare called from one pen. A foal answered from another.

Jodie looked up sharply.

“Wait. That foal belongs with the gray mare that came through four horses ago.”

The volunteer nearest her, Brooks, checked his sheet. “Seventy?”

“Cloud. Yes. Seventy.” He radioed someone at the sorting gate. Within a few minutes, the foal had been redirected. Jodie watched until she saw mother and baby together. Only then did she mark the relationship reconciled.

That’s why you’re here.

The thought didn’t make her feel better. But it kept her working.

By early afternoon, the helicopter finally went quiet.

The silence afterward seemed almost louder.

Jodie became aware of her own breathing. Of Willow coughing beside her. Of the dry rasp of papers other volunteers handed her with their sightings recorded. Horses shifted behind the panels, occasionally calling to one another, and every sound pulled at her attention.

Her shoulders hurt. Her neck hurt. Her eyes felt gritty from dust and too little blinking.

Jet. Check.

Marbles. Check.

Rosie. Sierra. Copper. All checked.

Cloud and foal. Check and check.

She worked slowly now, one line at a time, comparing photographs, field notes, and the handwritten sheets covering the table.

Willow dropped into the chair beside her. “Please tell me we’re done.”

“Not yet.” Jodie turned another page. “We need someone in there checking over Rosie while we’re at it.”

The horses behind the panels were settling, if the word could even apply. The frantic running had stopped. Most stood in loose groups now, sides still moving quickly with each breath.