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

raised his head. His  ears tipped forward.

Jonah did not call. He did not whistle. He rested his hands in his lap and waited.

Cinder looked toward the barn, then toward the open stretch of pasture behind him. There was plenty of room to leave. Not wild country, not the Granite Range, but enough space to choose distance if that was what he wanted.

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