It was what is called a full-stamped saddle, with the popular wild-rose design on skirts and cantle.

Much hard use and occasional oilings had darkened the leather to a rich, red brown, marred with old scars and scratches and the stains of many storms.
"Blood is hard to find when it's raining all night," Swan observed, speaking low as one does in the presence of death.

"But if somebody is bleeding and falls off a horse slow, and catches hold of things and tries like hell to hang on----" He lifted the small flap that covered the cinch ring and revealed a reddish, flaked stain.

Phlegmatically he wetted his finger tip on his tongue, rubbed the stain and held up his finger for Lone to see.

"That's a damn funny place for blood, when a man is dragging on the ground," he commented drily.