The gunny sack was whipped from the horse's head. There was a wild
scuffle of escaping wranglers.

For a moment Wild Fire stood quivering. The girl's hat swept through
the air in front of its eyes. The horse woke to galvanized action.
The back humped. It shot into the air with a writhing twist of the
body. All four feet struck the ground together, straight and stiff as
fence posts.

The girl's head jerked forward as though it were on a hinge. The
outlaw went sunfishing, its forefeet almost straight up. She was still
in the saddle when it came to all fours again. A series of jarring
bucks, each ending with the force of a pile-driver as Wild Fire's hoofs
struck earth, varied the programme. The rider came down limp, half in
the saddle, half out, righting herself as the horse settled for the
next leap. But not once did her hands reach for the pommel of the
saddle to steady her.

Pitching and bucking, the animal humped forward to the fence.

"Look out!" a judge yelled.

It was too late. The rider could not deflect her mount. Into the
fence went Wild Fire blindly and furiously. The girl threw up her leg
to keep it from being jammed. Up went the bronco again before Wild
Rose could find the stirrup. She knew she was gone, felt herself
shooting forward. She struck the ground close to the horse's hoofs.
Wild Fire lunged at her. A bolt of pain like a red-hot iron seared
through her.