Bareback Jack

He came into the world on a spring morning in the San Juan Valley. Wet and confused, his legs folded under him like they'd been packed wrong for the trip.

They named him Jack. He was a sorrel with a crooked blaze and a body that refused to be broken. When a horse trainer tried to saddle him at four years old, something ancient in his blood said no. Not out of fear. Not out of confusion. Out of something deeper. Something that had been waiting his whole life for a reason to come out.

Told enti...