known, other than maybe my grandfather.”
Maggie watched Jules struggle with the desire to confide in someone, all the while struggling with her own rule to stay out of other people’s business. Then, with a look at Breaking Free, she knew she could do no less than what she expected of him: to try again to reenter life. She spoke softly. “You have to be the one to ask him. That’s important.”
Jules nodded and stared at the ground, finally raising doubtful eyes to Maggie. “You think?”
Maggie nodded. “I do.” Her hand shook as she shoved it in her pants pocket. Jules was a lifer with nothing to lose if she didn’t like Maggie’s advice.
Breaking Free stood with his head over the stall door and snitched a bite of hay before she could open the door. “Back up, horse, and let me in.” Jules moved away as silently as she’d arrived, and Maggie let out the breath she’d been holding. She dumped the hay in the rack and returned for a small serving of sweet feed, which he gobbled in a couple of bites.
Maggie dug a brush and a rubber curry out of the grooming bucket and started work on his shoulder. Her own spasmed when she raised her arm to groom his back. She’d been careful not to let anyone see the purple and green bruise that still bloomed like a flower on the front of her shoulder. By the time Breaking Free had finished eating, she’d finished brushing him, grateful she’d finally gotten the tangles out of his mane and tail. Leaving the wraps on his legs, she snapped a lead rope to his halter and led him out of the stall.
He stopped, raising his head to look around.
“He thinks he’s the king,” JJ called from the stall she was cleaning.
He looked in the direction of the speaker but paid no more attention. When one of the horses in the field whinnied, he answered, a loud blast that made Maggie’s ears ring.
“Ow, you could warn me, you know.” She tugged on his lead and took only two steps before he followed. No jerking on the lead, no chain over his nose. She led him to the round pen, opened the gate while he stood at her shoulder, and then walked him in.
When she unsnapped the lead, he walked forward to the center of the pen, his front legs buckled, and he groaned as he lay down.
“Is he sick?” Brandy and some of the other women walked up to the fence.
“No, watch.”
Breaking Free kicked his feet until he rolled up on his back, then kicked and wriggled his back down in the dirt. Dust flew up around him.
“He’s scratching his back, besides dust helps keep away flies and pests. All horses love to get down and roll, but racehorses are never given the freedom to do it.”
They watched as he snorted and rolled over, then back the other way, all the while grunting and shaking. When he scrambled to his feet, head down, he shook all over, sending a cloud of dust skyward.
The spectators applauded. Maggie just watched.
Old boy, you’re getting to be a horse, not a speed machine. Go for it
. She left him in the pen, enjoying the sunshine while she went back and cleaned out his stall.
Now for today’s test. Would he let her bring him in? Back in she walked toward him and he turned to face her, then when she walked away, he followed. She stopped. He stopped. She trotted; he trotted, as if they were joined by invisible wires. When she stopped at the gate, his head was hanging even with his withers, right behind her shoulder. He was limping again, and she could feel his pain in her bones. She snapped the lead shank on his halter. Another test passed with flying colors. But would he be able to overcome his hatred of men before Warden Brundage came to evaluate their progress?
SEVEN
O n the way home, Gil, Eddie, and Maria stopped for milk shakes to celebrate finding their new house.
While Eddie slurped his, he asked, “Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Do you like Carly?”
“Yes, she’s seems like a very caring person.”
“She’s pretty too.”
“True. Why?” He watched his son’s