1. Last June a Ford pickup, freckled with mud moved down out of the Ozarks, dragging a four-horse trailer. It crossed Oklahoma, and it crossed the Texas Panhandle. The weight of the horsesfi even though there were only three was too much for the power of the motor. Miles came slowly in flat land, where the view from the cab—uninterrupted in every direction ran over the curve of the earth. In the back of the truck was a big can of disinfectant and an even larger (ten-gallon) milk can full of gasoline. There was, as well, a cardboard box full of bottles and cans of Vinegar, alcohol, Epsom salts, Bigeloil, Vaseline, Canada brace, flybait, Traileze, Louisiana leg brace, Absorbine senior. Eight hundred miles west of home, truck and trailer reached the beginnings of the Sacramento Mountains, in southern New Mexico, and the driver Bill H. Smith, of Pea Ridge, Arkansas—had no choice not but to gear down and crawl uphill. He had come out here on a kind of dare. There was a lot of jealousy in Pea Ri...

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