sardines. They all had numbers stuck to their rumps.
Crossing the aisle, she started up the other side. Since the place was spilling over with animals, she had no idea why she was so interested in this one horse. Maybe it was because she knew what was wrong with him. She knew he could be treated. She knew she could help. It had taken Pocomo Pete only two weeks to change from a depressed, sore-legged, orange-coatedhorse to his glossy, feisty old self. Pocomo was given a second chance. Unless she did something, this horse wouldn’t have one.
As Jas passed the third stall, she saw him. He was standing in the darkest corner, facing away from her, his head in the shadows.
Hiding
, Jas thought.
Just like me
.
Opening the door, she stepped inside. The horse turned his head to look at her. His ears drooped. His expression was listless. Like Pocomo Pete, he had given up.
“Hey.” Jas approached him with her hand outstretched. He didn’t move. She scratched his forehead and under his mane. On his face, he had a strip of white ending in a dot on his nose, as if someone had painted an exclamation point. She thought he was chestnut, though his coat was so dull it was hard to tell.
But his front legs were straight and strong with good bone, and his hooves were solid, even though he wasn’t shod. Bending, Jas saw old nail holes in both the front and hind hooves. It hadn’t been that long since he’d worn shoes.
Stepping back, she stared at him. What was his story? Had he once been someone’s treasured pet, like Goldie?
Stretching out his neck, the horse snuffled the front of Jas’s T-shirt. For just an instant, his eyes brightened, and Jas saw a trace of the elegant horse he had once been.
“Hey! What are you doing in that stall?” a voice barked.
Startled, Jas spun around. The cowboy stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“I—I like your horse,” she stammered.
“Good.” Striding over, he slapped a number on the horse’s rump. “Then you can bid on him. ’Cause he’s going in next.”
Ten
“ NEXT ?” JAS YELLED. REACHING UP, SHE LACED her fingers into the horse’s coarse mane. “You can’t let him go to the killers.”
“Why not?” the cowboy said as he spat in the dirt. “At a dollar a pound, this big guy will bring me some real good money.”
“But I know what’s wrong with him,” Jas protested. “He can be cured.”
The cowboy snorted. “Cured? That’s a hoot. Like I’m going to pay some doctor big bucks to fix an old nag who’ll never amount to anything.”
Jas caught her breath when she heard his words. She couldn’t believe she had said the same thing to Chase.
“Besides, who cares what’s wrong with him? All I’m interested in is the quick money,”the cowboy said as he leaned forward. He wasn’t that old, Jas realized, probably in his early twenties. But his teeth were stained and his breath stunk. “So, little honey, I suggest if you want him, you better rustle up the money.”
She shrank away from him. “I don’t have any money.”
Throwing his head back, he let out a guffaw. “I get it, you’re one of them bleeding heart animal fanatics.” He eyed her up and down. “If you weren’t so cute, I’d kick you out pronto. But, maybe, if you
really
like this horse …” His voice trailed off and he winked.
Jas narrowed her eyes. She’d met a dozen jerks like him at the center. “I like your
horse
, not
you
. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
She started to push around him, but he stepped in her path and blocked her. Usually, when she confronted the big mouths at the center, they backed off. But this guy wasn’t a kid, and it scared her.
“Jas? What are you doing in there?” Jas had never been so relieved to hear a familiar voice—even if it was Chase’s.
“Excuse me,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “I have to leave.”
Grinning, the cowboy shrugged, thenstepped aside. “Okay. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Eyes downcast,
Crossing the aisle, she started up the other side. Since the place was spilling over with animals, she had no idea why she was so interested in this one horse. Maybe it was because she knew what was wrong with him. She knew he could be treated. She knew she could help. It had taken Pocomo Pete only two weeks to change from a depressed, sore-legged, orange-coatedhorse to his glossy, feisty old self. Pocomo was given a second chance. Unless she did something, this horse wouldn’t have one.
As Jas passed the third stall, she saw him. He was standing in the darkest corner, facing away from her, his head in the shadows.
Hiding
, Jas thought.
Just like me
.
Opening the door, she stepped inside. The horse turned his head to look at her. His ears drooped. His expression was listless. Like Pocomo Pete, he had given up.
“Hey.” Jas approached him with her hand outstretched. He didn’t move. She scratched his forehead and under his mane. On his face, he had a strip of white ending in a dot on his nose, as if someone had painted an exclamation point. She thought he was chestnut, though his coat was so dull it was hard to tell.
But his front legs were straight and strong with good bone, and his hooves were solid, even though he wasn’t shod. Bending, Jas saw old nail holes in both the front and hind hooves. It hadn’t been that long since he’d worn shoes.
Stepping back, she stared at him. What was his story? Had he once been someone’s treasured pet, like Goldie?
Stretching out his neck, the horse snuffled the front of Jas’s T-shirt. For just an instant, his eyes brightened, and Jas saw a trace of the elegant horse he had once been.
“Hey! What are you doing in that stall?” a voice barked.
Startled, Jas spun around. The cowboy stood in the doorway, his hands on his hips.
“I—I like your horse,” she stammered.
“Good.” Striding over, he slapped a number on the horse’s rump. “Then you can bid on him. ’Cause he’s going in next.”
Ten
“ NEXT ?” JAS YELLED. REACHING UP, SHE LACED her fingers into the horse’s coarse mane. “You can’t let him go to the killers.”
“Why not?” the cowboy said as he spat in the dirt. “At a dollar a pound, this big guy will bring me some real good money.”
“But I know what’s wrong with him,” Jas protested. “He can be cured.”
The cowboy snorted. “Cured? That’s a hoot. Like I’m going to pay some doctor big bucks to fix an old nag who’ll never amount to anything.”
Jas caught her breath when she heard his words. She couldn’t believe she had said the same thing to Chase.
“Besides, who cares what’s wrong with him? All I’m interested in is the quick money,”the cowboy said as he leaned forward. He wasn’t that old, Jas realized, probably in his early twenties. But his teeth were stained and his breath stunk. “So, little honey, I suggest if you want him, you better rustle up the money.”
She shrank away from him. “I don’t have any money.”
Throwing his head back, he let out a guffaw. “I get it, you’re one of them bleeding heart animal fanatics.” He eyed her up and down. “If you weren’t so cute, I’d kick you out pronto. But, maybe, if you
really
like this horse …” His voice trailed off and he winked.
Jas narrowed her eyes. She’d met a dozen jerks like him at the center. “I like your
horse
, not
you
. So, if you’ll excuse me.”
She started to push around him, but he stepped in her path and blocked her. Usually, when she confronted the big mouths at the center, they backed off. But this guy wasn’t a kid, and it scared her.
“Jas? What are you doing in there?” Jas had never been so relieved to hear a familiar voice—even if it was Chase’s.
“Excuse me,” she repeated through clenched teeth. “I have to leave.”
Grinning, the cowboy shrugged, thenstepped aside. “Okay. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Eyes downcast,
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