Sixteen days ago my husband and I drove out to the Kamma Mountains of the Nevada desert.  An entire year had passed since we had been there.  Neither of us spoke as our wheels crunched over mile after mile of gravel road.  Each was preoccupied with memories of our last trip to the Kamma Mountains when, during one day, we sighted 21 mustangs.  Interspersed with those memories was apprehension about what we would–or would not–find when we arrived this time. Continue reading →