"This bob-wire," somebody said, "won't last in Texas. It's free range and so it will always be. God made that grass for cows just like he did for buffalo, and nobody can rightfully fence it in. When the buffalo ran, it was free grass, and so it will always be."

"I don't know," another said doubtfully. "A man likes to know his own cattle, and to have his own range. There were millions of buffalo, but they never grazed the same ground two days in succession. They just kept moving along, north to south. If you get to holding cattle on the range they'll eat up all that grass in no time I can understand the thinking of those who want fenced range, but personally, I'm against it."

"What about this range war?"

"Hell, it's no secret! I've heard the Brockman twins are in it, and half a dozen others just as mean. And who's to stop them?"

"What about the Rangers?"

"They're too busy with the Kiowas and Commanches, or bandit raids from south of the border. Anyway, most of the Rangers would have friends on one side or the other."
—Louis L'Amour, The Rider of Lost Creek

Tearing across the hard-baked ground under a glaring, metallic blue sky, The Judas doesn't let the grapefruit-size rocks impede his course. He dominates the Texas environment both physically and mentally better than any other place. Again, the Judas has no idea what he is searching for, but he'll know when he finds it. His handler put him out here where the chocolate-colored waters divides the U.S. and Mexico. The Rio Grande—Rio Bravo the Mexicans call it.

Nearing Del Rio, many miles where his handler let him loose, The Judas feels his intuition kick in—in a spiritual mirage so intense, where the line of the land and sky melts. He jumps barbed-wire fences.

Today, The Judas sees vestiges of Indians and their horses and traces of their forebears who made the pathways thousands of years before. The spirit of Chief Abiaka pulled out his pocket lens and focused it on the sun's rays to light his pipe and give hint.

"Rayados," The Judas hears Chief Abiaka say.

The Jumados, "rayados" had lines painted on their faces. The Rayados helped disperse the wild horses coming south of Del Rio and Laredo, to Native American tribes.

The necropolis, equine tombstone inscriptions being a remnant of both history and battle is a site of historical value. The Judas watches these regal mustang spirits drift away in the mirage. Oh, the pleasure they have given him. Sigh.

The stench coming from nearby is horrid. Carcasses slipping their hair and oozing are lying scattered. Several of the cows have succumbed to tick fever. The Judas finds the herd of cattle, some sick, most alive, walled in and stranded by thick witch hazel. The question remains how the cows got inside at all, where the witch hazel dominates, and their spreading branches shut out the sun.

The Judas uses his strong leg muscles. Striking out with swift slashes of hooves, he kicks out a horseshoe-shaped arch. His assault is endless, so that a mobile community of cattle can find their way out.
—Sage Sweetwater, Dominga Rio of Cuero