4 AM and cold. Washing my face, boiling a couple of eggs and heading to Deming, about two hours from Gila. Rocky, my new horse is in this huge trailer with racehorses and there are impressive looking semis all around the truck. Two men roll out of the truck sleepy-eyed, and one of them pulls out a plank and some sides to make a ramp. When they swing open the door I spot Rocky right away and I call out his name and he looks at me with his big dark eyes, while the horse next to him is bobbing his head. Rocky's strawberry mane shines in the full moon-light and he does pretty well walking through all those huge trucks to our small trailer and loading into it.

We stop at one rest stop in the middle of nowhere and it is heated and Benjamin Britain is conducting classical music piped into our stalls. Stall to stall, it is strange to pick up a horse at a truck stop but here he is, at home.

At home he walks around the pasture and Gunner horse is trying to get closer. We have them in different corrals for a couple of days so they can get used to being together. Rocky is pretty calm with everything and is loping in the pasture after being some twenty odd hours traveling to get here.