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

kindness she could have offered.

“You did all this wrapping yourself?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Epsom poultice?”

“And a drawing salve I had left.”

Lena nodded. “You took a lot of heat out of it. More than I would’ve expected.”

Wade did not let himself breathe yet.

“The joint’s damaged,” she continued. “Badly. There’s old trauma in here, maybe more than one continue reading …