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Dust Devil 

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I walked toward movement in the darkness. The gate opened. Luis and his son rode in. The crowd made a semi-circle. Horses danced to music, prancing sideways and backward in intricate steps, dark legs swirling in the dust.

"How do they do that?" I asked Josefina.

Her face lit up.

"The riders use their hands and feet," she said. "It takes training. You have to find music the horse likes."

—Terri Shay

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