Thunderbird, the Kid's horse, struggles onward - it has been three days since it has properly rested. It struggles against the oncoming blizzard but the kid knows that if they stop to rest the snow will cover the ground and they may never make it. "We've travelled a hundred miles Thunderbird, only thirty or so more to go, we'll be home by morning and you can sleep and eat grass until the summer comes." He pats his best friend's neck and sensing his love, the horse speeds a little, the thought of the sweet grass of Texas in its mind.

The night comes down slowly and the blizzard becomes stronger - the wind freezes the bones and makes it almost impossible to see even the ground beneath Thundrebird's feet, but his step is sure and he knows the way now, only ten miles and there will be a warm stable and soft straw to rest on. Far, far away in the distance the smoke from Maria's canteena rises into the sky - a beacon for the weary traveller, but through the snow it signals vainly and only the memory of the trail and the sixth sense of the cowboy guides the way.

Just three miles left to go and The Kid's hands and feet are frozen stiff. Beneath him Thunderbird forces his way through the drifts which now come right up to The Kid's feet. Every pace drains his strength and the cold saps the beasts will - but Thunderbird is strong and knows that rest will soon be his - "Just keep on walking my friend, one step at a time."

Only one mile remains and Thunderbird is weary, he can no longer carry The Kid nor remember the way - but The Kid has strength left and leads the way. His muscles ache with every step but he knows that soon he will be in the arms of Maria.

Every minute that passes Thunderbird seems to become more and more weary - every step seems more laboured, The Kid urges him onwards, "You can rest soon old pal." But The Kid is tired too and the snow is now almost up to his waist.

One hundred yards and Thunderbird stumbles and falls. The Kid tries to help him to his feet, but the poor beast has no strength left. Just discernable through the blizzard are the lights of Maria's canteena, The Kid can almost smell the fire and feel its warmth, but he can't leave poor Thundrebird alone - maybe just a minute or two to allow his old friend to recover, for a Texan never deserts a friend in need...

They found The Kid and poor Thunderbird half buried in the snow, less than one hundred yards from the fires of home - The Kid's arms wrapped around his horse's neck and their bodies huddled for warmth.

And so ends the tale of the Enchilada Kid, gone to the great canteena in the sky. And Thunderbird is with him, where the grass is long and the sun shines warm on his back. And they wait for Maria and for the day they will be together again.


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