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

new.

“You don’t own horses.”

Cal squinted toward the pasture. “Not anymore.”

“You haven’t owned horses in twelve years.”

“Then I guess I ordered real wrong.” Cal drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “They’re too big for anything I’ve got. Your mare’s going to feel that bad knee when November settles in. Take them before my wife asks why they’re in continue reading …