A high whinny seeps through the walls, followed by an impatient hoof striking against the door. Declan shoots me a see-I-told-you look. He runs a hand down my coat sleeve as his blue eyes bore into mine. “She’s dangerous. Please don’t do this.”
I don’t know what to tell him. I only whisper, “Trust me.” Before shooting the bolt open to the back door, I check to see that Declan has joined his dad outside the stall. There is nothing between me and the mare’s supper other than a wall and my ability to gain her trust. I open the rear door enough to slip through.
Red snorts when I appear in her pasture. The outdoor lighting, combined with the sliver of light from the crack in the door, is enough to see her outline and watch her movement. She spins and trots off a few steps, tail held high. I draw in a breath, let it out slowly, and watch the cloud vapor under the light. My fingers grip the grain scoop. God, I pray I know what I’m doing. I cock my head, straining to catch any sound, but it’s silent, except for the whispering swish of the mare’s tail and the blood pounding in my ears.
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