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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

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own body.

Wade stood at the edge of the crowd with both hands buried in the pockets of his work jacket, though it was too warm for a jacket. The canvas had been washed thin at the elbows and darkened with oil near the cuffs. He wore it because the inside pocket held his wallet, and the wallet held two hundred and forty dollars he could not afford to continue reading …

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