incredulous.
“Yeah. Apparently, there’s a guy, or a group of guys, I don’t know, shooting horses just for the fun of it. He ain’t the only one dead. It’s the most disgusting thing. I mean, shooting a horse is just wrong. Especially a valuable one like that. His owner is heartsick. I called him this morning.”
Sadie was aghast, the color draining from her face, as Richard Caldwell explained the situation in Lorado County. Ranchers keeping their horses inside, or the cowhands guarding the corrals, no horses allowed to be in pastures, and certainly not in the open range.
Sadie listened closely, thinking of Paris, grazing happily in the large, secluded pasture with Cody, Reuben’s brown mare.
Surely the killers were not in this area. They couldn’t be.
She launched into animated conversation with Richard Caldwell, spreading her hands for emphasis, the love for her beloved horse so apparent. Richard Caldwell watched her face, the expression changing from despair to panic then sadness as she remembered Nevaeh, the black and white paint that had broken his leg when she tried to clear a high fence.
Mark Peight had filled his plate, found a place to eat at the long table crowded with cowhands, and bent to his food, before looking up and seeing Sadie talk animatedly, with Richard Caldwell watching her face so closely.
The food-laden fork went slowly into his mouth, then out as he swallowed forcefully, never taking his eyes off the two at an adjoining table.
His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared slightly as he slowly laid down his fork, color rising in his face. Putting both hands on the table’s edge, he pushed back his chair, turned on his heel, and strode past Sadie and her boss, closing the door with a resounding “thwack” as he made his decided exit.
Her first instinct was to go after him, grab his sleeve, hang on, and ask him why he left so suddenly without acknowledging her presence.
Richard Caldwell watched Sadie, saw the distraction as Mark strode past, watched her turn sideways in her chair to watch him leave. Silently he took a sip of his coffee.
Sadie was clearly agitated now, but she sighed and met Richard Caldwell’s eyes, resignation stamped all over her lovely features.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“How well do you know him?”
Sadie shrugged her shoulders, pushed her dark hair back, bit down on her lower lip, and would not look at him.
“He’s the best farrier I ever watched, and I’ve seen a bunch of ’em in my time. He shod Sage, that big gray brute, but ended up throwing him with the twitch to do it.”
Sadie’s eyes flamed.
“That’s just cruel. You don’t have to hurt a horse’s mouth to restrain him.”
With that, she got up, bid him a good day, and marched into the kitchen.
Richard Caldwell sipped his coffee, speculating, before a slow grin spread across his face, and he shook his head.
Sadie and Reuben went riding that evening after the dishes were washed, Paris and Cody eager to run.
They held them in, with the horses chomping down on their bits, prancing to the side, even rearing in the air, balking a bit, as if they couldn’t bear to be held back.
They went down the winding driveway and turned right, riding single file along the macadam road before coming to the field lane that turned to the high pasture along the ridge.
Sadie tightened her knees, leaned forward, and loosened the reins, grinning back at Reuben the instant Paris gathered her legs beneath her and catapulted up the lane.
There was no reason to hold them back. Just pasture grasses and wildflowers for at least a mile, so Sadie let Paris go.
The blond mane whipped across Paris’ neck, her head pumped up and down, the dull, muffled sound of her hooves striking the earth sounding like pure music to Sadie’s ears.
The wind tossed Sadie’s dark hair, tore at her dichly , and still Paris pounded on. The grasses swayed, the trees blurred by, and she rode on, the enjoyment of allowing Paris to
“Yeah. Apparently, there’s a guy, or a group of guys, I don’t know, shooting horses just for the fun of it. He ain’t the only one dead. It’s the most disgusting thing. I mean, shooting a horse is just wrong. Especially a valuable one like that. His owner is heartsick. I called him this morning.”
Sadie was aghast, the color draining from her face, as Richard Caldwell explained the situation in Lorado County. Ranchers keeping their horses inside, or the cowhands guarding the corrals, no horses allowed to be in pastures, and certainly not in the open range.
Sadie listened closely, thinking of Paris, grazing happily in the large, secluded pasture with Cody, Reuben’s brown mare.
Surely the killers were not in this area. They couldn’t be.
She launched into animated conversation with Richard Caldwell, spreading her hands for emphasis, the love for her beloved horse so apparent. Richard Caldwell watched her face, the expression changing from despair to panic then sadness as she remembered Nevaeh, the black and white paint that had broken his leg when she tried to clear a high fence.
Mark Peight had filled his plate, found a place to eat at the long table crowded with cowhands, and bent to his food, before looking up and seeing Sadie talk animatedly, with Richard Caldwell watching her face so closely.
The food-laden fork went slowly into his mouth, then out as he swallowed forcefully, never taking his eyes off the two at an adjoining table.
His eyes narrowed, his nostrils flared slightly as he slowly laid down his fork, color rising in his face. Putting both hands on the table’s edge, he pushed back his chair, turned on his heel, and strode past Sadie and her boss, closing the door with a resounding “thwack” as he made his decided exit.
Her first instinct was to go after him, grab his sleeve, hang on, and ask him why he left so suddenly without acknowledging her presence.
Richard Caldwell watched Sadie, saw the distraction as Mark strode past, watched her turn sideways in her chair to watch him leave. Silently he took a sip of his coffee.
Sadie was clearly agitated now, but she sighed and met Richard Caldwell’s eyes, resignation stamped all over her lovely features.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“How well do you know him?”
Sadie shrugged her shoulders, pushed her dark hair back, bit down on her lower lip, and would not look at him.
“He’s the best farrier I ever watched, and I’ve seen a bunch of ’em in my time. He shod Sage, that big gray brute, but ended up throwing him with the twitch to do it.”
Sadie’s eyes flamed.
“That’s just cruel. You don’t have to hurt a horse’s mouth to restrain him.”
With that, she got up, bid him a good day, and marched into the kitchen.
Richard Caldwell sipped his coffee, speculating, before a slow grin spread across his face, and he shook his head.
Sadie and Reuben went riding that evening after the dishes were washed, Paris and Cody eager to run.
They held them in, with the horses chomping down on their bits, prancing to the side, even rearing in the air, balking a bit, as if they couldn’t bear to be held back.
They went down the winding driveway and turned right, riding single file along the macadam road before coming to the field lane that turned to the high pasture along the ridge.
Sadie tightened her knees, leaned forward, and loosened the reins, grinning back at Reuben the instant Paris gathered her legs beneath her and catapulted up the lane.
There was no reason to hold them back. Just pasture grasses and wildflowers for at least a mile, so Sadie let Paris go.
The blond mane whipped across Paris’ neck, her head pumped up and down, the dull, muffled sound of her hooves striking the earth sounding like pure music to Sadie’s ears.
The wind tossed Sadie’s dark hair, tore at her dichly , and still Paris pounded on. The grasses swayed, the trees blurred by, and she rode on, the enjoyment of allowing Paris to
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