turn those hair-trigger reactions into something positive. But though Sarah had been able to ride the horse in several rodeos and rack up a few wins on him, Flash never really changed. No matter how they pampered him, he always seemed to be under some kind of strain, his coat shining with a little too much sweat, his muscles rippling and twitching with nerves. Once in a while he’d explode, seemingly at nothing, but Sarah had always managed to avoid the flailing hooves.
Her stepfather hadn’t been so lucky. But despite what had happened to Roy, Sarah had never seen Flash as a killer. When he kicked, it was out of fear or pain; they just could never figure out what was scaring him or hurting him.
Roy would have forgiven him. Roy forgave easily, totally and unreservedly. It was a quality Sarah envied and had never been able to imitate.
“Take your time. Easy.” She was soothing herself more than the horse. He watched as she got a grip on her nerves, breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. If you thought about your breath, you centered and slowed, and a calm spirit drew horses like magic. If you were genuinely at ease, even the most frightened horse would want to trust you.
She kept Flash in her peripheral vision and tried not to think about the past, but the images flickered in her mind’s eye like a runaway movie on a tattered screen. She heard Roy’s shouts, saw him bleeding in the dirt at the bottom of the ramp. She remembered swinging the trailer door closed on the trembling horse before racing to the house to call for help.
Panic, loss, and regret swirled through her heart as she gripped the top rail of the fence with white-knuckled fingers. She’d mourned Roy in the weeks that followed, but privately, in her sixteen-year-old heart, she’d mourned the horse too. He’d been a teenaged girl’s dream, the stallion only she could ride, and she’d wept to think of some other trainer making him into the miracle she’d been praying for. She hadn’t known what had happened to Flash, and she’d told herself she didn’t care.
But the truth was, she’d cared a lot. And all that caring had simmered for years behind the mask of indifference she’d put on the day the check came.
Surely the buyer knew he’d stolen that horse. Flash’s conformation and bloodlines were unbeatable. He’d been remarkable in the arena on his good days, stopping and spinning with textbook perfection. She’d been sure she could ride him to a championship if she could just find the key to calming him. If she’d just had a little more time…
Breathe, she told herself Breathe. Breathe slow. Breathe easy. Gradually her grip on the fence loosened and she felt her equanimity return. Along with it came her old confidence—a confidence she’d only ever felt with horses. Working with people was an effort; working with horses had been intuitive and easy.
The horse was three feet from the gate now. Stretching his neck, he sniffed the air in front of her face and took a step closer until they stood face to face, sharing breath. She closed her eyes.
This was the point in getting to know a green horse she’d always loved—the moment when her mind and the horse’s melded in a silent communion that was filled with promise and understanding. But in Flash, there had always been an underlying agitation, like a white-water stretch frothing over stones in a stream. It was a part of himself he hadn’t been willing to share, a secret fear he hadn’t let her see.
This horse didn’t have that. His mind was as smooth as a summer lake. It was obvious his confidence in himself had never been shaken. This animal’s past was nothing but cool breezes and sun on the meadow.
Somehow, somebody had saved her horse.
Chapter 30
Sarah stared at the horse. If she’d died and gone to heaven, this was exactly what she would have wished for: a second chance with Flash. A chance to start him fresh, before whatever had damaged him had done its work.
But it’s impossible. He’d be old. This horse isn’t old.
She shrugged off her doubts and fumbled to undo the latch. There was no point in second-guessing this. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe she really had died.
She didn’t care. When the gate closed behind her with a metallic clang, she felt like she’d shut out the real world and walked into the dream. The