Slowly the little mustang gained.

It seemed to Carley that riding him required no effort at all.
And at such fast pace, with the wind roaring in her ears, the walls of green vague and continuous in her sight, the sting of pine tips on cheek and neck, the yellow road streaming toward her, under her, there rose out of the depths of her, out of the tumult of her breast, a sense of glorious exultation.

She closed in on Glenn.

From the flying hoofs of his horse shot up showers of damp sand and gravel that covered Carley's riding habit and spattered in her face.

She had to hold up a hand before her eyes.