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riding. When a cow pony confronted an unwilling cow, the rider’s job was mostly to stay in the saddle. He might give an occasional hint from his knees or the reins as to which direction the cow should travel. The rest was up to the horse. Dancing this way and that, the pony anticipated the cow, breaking into a few dainty steps, whirling to meet a new rush back toward the brush. The rider’s work was to swivel and sway on top, just a passenger, while the horse danced the cow into frustrated obedience.
    But too often the slab-sided, square-faced, bloody-minded, sharp-horned creatures broke away for a long run back to the brush. Then a vaquero took over. Diego leaned into his pony’s turn as a big bull made a run. His hard-braided leather reata whistled above him a second or two, then flew ahead of the bull with coils unfolding behind it. The bull ran into the loop, which tightened around its neck. Diego’s hands flashed as he dallied—took turns of the reata around his saddle’s big horn. The cow pony skidded to a stop and waited with its legs braced. Surprise. The slack popped out of the line, and the bull’s momentum jerked him back and up into a backward bull somersault. He landed with a meaty thump and a puff of dust. Diego backed his pony and the bull rose, unsteady at first. It moved in the direction Diego was pulling it, deciding that this was a fine direction in which to travel. As the re-educated bull trotted past, Diego flipped the reata free of his horns and coiled it, ready for another cow and another lesson.
    Scar tried to keep one of the old hands working near the boys. Bernardo soon found out why. A younger bull passed them, trying to get back to the brush.
    Bernardo took off after him, whirling his reata, coming closer and making a good catch. He dallied, hurrying to get turns of line around the saddle horn,and backed his horse. But this bull was running at a different angle. Instead of jerking backward, the straining line drew him into a circle, back toward Bernardo. Then the bull charged.
    â€œWhoa there!” Diego called, but Juan Three-fingers was already in motion. His reata curled out low, its loop rolling on the ground. The bull ran across the loop. Juan gave a twitch and then took his dallies. He had the bull by the hind legs. When the slack ran out, the bull was caught forward and behind.
    Bernardo’s horse had been pivoting to run, and the boy had almost thrown the dallies off his horn. But now he and the pony saw the bull go down. Bernardo threw another quick turn on the horn, and the angry bull lay stretched out on the ground.
    â€œNow what?” Diego called.
    â€œWe’ll just hold him a bit. Let him forget what he was angry at. Then he’ll be as sweet as a lamb. Won’t you, toro ?” Juan reached down and twitched his loop loose. As the bull rose, Juan freed Bernardo’s loop, then let his pony dance back. “Get on with you, now! Hoo!” he shouted at the bull. Dazed, it ambled toward the other cattle moving south.
    Juan Three-fingers walked his horse over to Bernardo. “Exciting?” Bernardo was wide eyed. “Pullyour glove up tight there, and be more careful how you take those dallies when you rope,” he said. He held up his three-fingered hand. “You don’t want to get any fingers caught in that reata, boy.” He grinned and rode away.
    Diego’s fingers tingled and he pulled his gloves up tight too. Both boys looked at their saddle horns with new respect.
    They herded bulls, cows, and this year’s new calves. Diego and Bernardo worked steadily south with Juan Three-fingers’s crew. The rancho’s territory seemed even larger than they thought it could be. By noon they were exhausted, resting in the shade, almost too tired to eat the bread and meat laid out on ground cloths.
    At the end of the first day, they had covered only a small part of the rancho. The cattle were tired as well. They