Of the things to be learned—not found in books—taught only by blows: taking a punch, being stolen from, or worse, asking a bride. These are lessons of fire, the sweet sound of breaking glass. Like my whiskey-lit kin and a house aflame. Now we ride. Muscle and taut desire. Steered and branded or saddled and broke? Do you believe in refusal or escape? As though the desert could grow flowers. As though we could make a home here. How do you explain to the horse about the broken leg?