bull.”
Sarah nodded. Lane was persistent. He’d stuck with her, and she hadn’t made it easy.
“So what was wrong with him?”
“Pinched nerve in his neck.” He led the gelding back to his stall and steered him inside, then unbuckled the halter and lifted it off his head. “You wouldn’t have ever guessed it. Most horses would be short-strided, show it in their gate. But it’s instinct for animals to hide their pain, and that horse was strong enough to keep it covered up. Lane had a hell of a time figuring out what was wrong with him, but he wouldn’t give up.” He stroked the horse’s nose with the effortless camaraderie of a true horseman as he exited the stall, latching the gate behind him. “It’s just lucky that animal had a buyer who could afford to fix him,” he said. “By the time they got it figured out, I think Carrigan spent three times what the animal was worth.”
“What all did he do?”
The farrier shook his head. “A lot more than most people would have. He hauled that horse all the way down to the vet school at Colorado State, and let me tell you, that was no small feat. Never saw a horse that hated trailers the way that one did.”
They were both silent for a moment. Sarah didn’t know what the farrier was thinking about, but she was thinking of Flash and the reason for his fear of trailers.
“So the vet figured out the problem?” she finally asked.
“After a few thousand dollars in tests. That horse spent almost six months there. Once they figured out what it was, there was surgery, recovery, therapy—for a while they had him swimming every day.”
Sarah sat down on a bale of hay, her legs weak. “It must have cost a fortune,” she muttered.
She was talking more to herself than the farrier, but he was a friendly guy and kept on talking. “Sure did. Just figuring it out, let alone fixing it.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and leaned against the stall door. “Guess the folks that sold him didn’t know. Thought the horse was just difficult, and he ran for ’em anyway. Daughter was a barrel racer. Let me tell you, that animal had heart. To get through the pain he was suffering and make those turns—it must have hurt like hell. That horse was a goddamn hero.”
Sarah jerked to her feet, swallowing hard as she steadied herself against the wall. “I need to go get Trevor for you. He’ll write you a check or whatever.”
The farrier waved her away. “No need. Got a contract, so Lane just pays me monthly. Where’s Cinn hanging out today?”
She wanted to get out of there more than she’d ever wanted out of anywhere. She needed to sit somewhere quiet and process the information about Flash. Lane was no villain. Really, she was the bad guy in this story.
Because she’d tortured the horse she loved, tortured him every day. She’d thought she was being patient, working through what she and Roy had believed were psychological issues. They’d had him checked, X-rayed, analyzed—nobody had been able to find anything wrong.
To get through the pain he was suffering and run anyway… that horse was a goddamn hero.
Lane had been the best thing that ever happened to Flash. He’d saved him. Given him the gift of a few pain-free years at the end of his life.
She led the farrier out of the cool barn and over to the sunbaked corral where she’d left Cinn. She could see Flash in the glowing red of his coat, the graceful curve of his back, the breadth of his chest and the elegant beauty of his head.
“How long did Flash live after the surgery?”
“Couple years. Long enough to enjoy being nothing but a stud for a while.” The farrier laughed. “He got the life he deserved after all, even if it was only for a while. Once he recovered from the surgery, he was a sweetheart. Everybody’s favorite. Cinn’s got the same personality.”
Sarah watched him slip a halter over the horse’s head and clip on a lead rope. As he led the stallion back to the barn, the world blurred in front of her, the sharp stems of grass blending into patches of yellow light and blue shadow, the sun blurring to a watercolor glow, the corral fences becoming sharp dark strokes against the light. She tripped over a tussock of grass and realized she’d veered off the path.
“You okay?” the