Free Dark Horse by Honey Brown Page A

she’s got a yard and access to cover, they can chopper in bales of hay and drop people in to feed and check on her, until the river is down. It’s either that or they’re going to airlift her out.’
    ‘I don’t want her airlifted. And I won’t leave her confined in a yard, not without me here with her. Isn’t your knee hurting you?’ Sarah began her soup.
    ‘It’s not super sore, but it’s not strong either. I don’t know; it’s annoying, that’s all.’
    ‘You’re probably damaging it more by using it.’
    ‘Do you think a yard is a good idea? So she’s more comfortable while we’re here. Should we try it?’
    Sarah nodded. ‘Thanks for thinking of her.’
    ‘It’s my way of winning her over.’ His head was low over his bowl, his spoon skimming the cooler surface soup. ‘She keeps giving me the evil eye.’
    ‘If you’re not a horsey person, she knows it, and won’t give you the time of day.’
    ‘Who says I’m not a horsey person?’ He arched an eyebrow.
    ‘What breed is she then?’
    Heath rubbed his lips and squinted in her direction, although in the fog there was very little to see. ‘Quarter horse?’
    ‘Anglo. She’s an endurance horse.’
    ‘Endurance? Like trail riding?’
    ‘Not trail riding, faster. Competition. Trail riding on steroids. Distance. Speed. Nonstop.’
    ‘It’s a sport?’
    ‘Definitely. You can compete all over the world.’
    Heath swayed his head and looked impressed. ‘Sorta like the Dakar for horses?’
    ‘You could say that. And she’s the best in the country. A couple more years and she will be, anyway. The Arabs, they passed her over. They made a mistake.’
    ‘Now I really do want to be friends with her. You ride her in competitions?’
    ‘Yep.’
    ‘You must be a good rider.’
    ‘I am.’
    ‘Mmm.’ Heath’s eyes shone, a darker shade of green this morning, depth and intensity restored. Short black lashes fringing them.
    Sarah wondered if knowing his surname would make any difference. She’d taken a man’s surname and still been left in the dark. She didn’t need to know his background, his family, his friends, his likes and dislikes – you can know all those things and still not know a man. Love had tricked Sarah into thinking a person could be trusted and understood. It seemed such a naïve thing in retrospect. Why had she so blindly believed that her husband had rolled over and exposed his soft underbelly and bared his soul? He hadn’t. If anything, all those women, the one night stands, the regulars, the hookers who had only known his first name, they’d seen deeper into him than Sarah had, they’d experienced his weaknesses and his darkness and those two things were more revealing than a person’s strength and goodness. Or so she thought. Granted she was bitter.
    Sarah stared through Heath while this turned in her mind, and saw now that he’d not looked away. While she’d been caught up in her thoughts he’d been studying her face, looking into her eyes while they were unseeing and open, peering right inside her.
    Heat crept up Sarah’s neck and warmed her cheeks. She looked down.
    ‘And here I was thinking you might steal my horse to ride off and check your poppy field. But instead you sit down and tell me you want to build a yard so she’s comfortable. I can’t work you out.’
    ‘Poppies don’t grow well in this climate.’
    ‘Of course.’
    ‘Found out the hard way. Took a real hammering there.’
    ‘Worth a try I guess.’
    She heard him chuckle. Sarah ate her soup.
    ‘Will we have a coffee after this?’ he said.
    ‘There’s only a bit left in the jar, and a few tea bags.’
    ‘I suppose we better be careful with what we’ve got.’
    ‘To be on the safe side, I reckon.’
    It sounded like he resumed eating; Sarah didn’t look up to find out.
    The workmen had taken most of their tools with them. Sarah and Heath searched in and around the hut, the van and the shed. Heath used the crowbar to prise some panels