Alva Review-Courier -

“C’mon, Daisy, you ain’t sick, and ya shore ‘nuff ain’t old, so jest keep movin’.”

Dan Durbin urged his beloved dappled gray mare up the gently sloping land and halted near a huge sycamore, waiting in the cold gray dawn for his neighbor to show up for their prearranged meeting. This early-morning ‘springtime cowboy conference’ had been going on for six years, ever since Earl Jackson bought the small ranch on the west side of Dan’s modest spread.

Years ago, the two owners had agreed to share the grazing land that lay between them. Now it was time once again to make plans for the annual round up...