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

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dirt.

Jonah saw it without looking straight at him. The  horse’s head came up half an inch. His ears moved—not forward, not yet, but no longer flattened all the way back. He took one stiff step, then stopped as if surprised by his own body.

Jonah did nothing.

That was the hardest part. Every old instinct in him wanted to help, to soften his voice, to continue reading …

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