The fastest saddling he'd ever done completed, Monty grabbed his rifle from the corner of the barn where he'd left it when he headed for San Francisco. He tossed the reins over Buck's head, holding those and the saddle horn in his left hand. With his left foot in the stirrup, he swung into the saddle, the rifle in his right hand. He clapped his heels on Buck's side, and the pressure of the reins on Buck's neck told him to head out the main gate and across the road.
Cattle naturally ate the grass down on the flatland first, but as soon as the choicest feed was gone, they started ambling up the slopes. The range of low hills started just on the other side of the ranch road, and it was toward these that the horse and rider headed. When the cattle came back down to the river to drink, they always took the path of least resistance. As they grazed higher and higher on the hills, they used the same easy path to go down to drink or rest, and then to return to graze. Over the years, hundreds of hooves had trod this same path, so that it was now a smooth and wide route up through the hills. Guided to the bottom of this trail, Buck now understood that that was where he was to go, although he still had no idea why. Nor did he understand why his master was urging him to run as fast as he could.
Work on horseback around the ranch was normally done at a walk or trot, when checking fences or the condition of feed. When the work was over, if Buck didn't seem tired, Monty enjoyed having him canter back to the barn for his oats. It was only when gathering cattle that Buck would break into a gallop, if he was trying to run down and turn a stray determined to leave the herd. But tonight, the only pace was a flat-out gallop as Buck sensed that his rider had some very urgent reason to be charging up the path through the hills.
The hills were dotted with the softly rounded shapes of the live oak trees, and some were close enough to the trail to cast black shadows onto the path. This wasn't the first time the horse and rider had been up this trail, and Buck didn't slow his charge for anything. They crested the ridge through a saddle between two hills, and continued the rush down the other side. At the base of the hill, the trail petered out and the pair headed across a flatter plain at a breakneck speed. In the moonlight, Monty could see in the distance the barbed-wire fence marking the perimeter of his property.