The broke old farmer bought the dying mare for $200. Then the millionaire arrived with a sheriff-and the horse hid behind the old man like she knew exactly who had hurt her
for a formal statement. But he can’t quietly take her now.”
Wade glanced down at June. A smear of mud marked the white blaze on her face, and hay clung stubbornly to her forelock. She was not beautiful in the polished way show horses were beautiful. Not then. She was thin, crooked, scarred, and alive.
