The crowd thought the boy in the wheelchair was helpless-until the wild mustang lowered his head to his boots

fixing on anything too hard.

“He’s standing right here,” Jonah said to Sophie. “He doesn’t need you to hurry.”

Sophie’s fingers kept moving, but slower now.

Cinder blinked. Dust clung to the black hair around his eyes. He breathed with the slow, heavy rhythm Jonah knew from the ranch, each exhale stirring the loose end of the lead rope.

Sophie took one continue reading …