Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128313 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 642(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
“She’s going to jump it,” Genny said, panicked, her hand reaching out to grab on to my arm. Her fingers squeezed it so tightly I knew they’d leave a bruise. “Hallie, she’s going to jump it!” Just as Genny feared, Dahlia, nostrils flared and eyes wide, jumped the fence, clipping her back right hoof as she did. I winced as Genny cried out at the sound.
Jasper came barreling from the back of the barn and climbed over the fence, a halter and rope in his hand. Even with a slight limp, Dahlia didn’t stop her hurricanelike run. Trees lined the perimeter of the field, wired fencing the only thing stopping Dahlia from clearing that too and escaping into the woods.
I didn’t even think, my body acted of its own accord, and in seconds I was running toward the field, climbing the fence to get there too. A few more grooms and yard staff were hot on Jasper’s tail, but I had my eyes firmly on Dahlia. Froth landed on the ground from her mouth, and even from the other side of the field, I could hear the heaviness of her breathing.
Jesus. I knew Dahlia had been affected by the accident, but this poor mare . . . She was absolutely terrified and didn’t resemble her former self at all. Sadness propelled me forward toward where she was clearly hoping to jump the wire fence. But the closer I got to the tree line, the more I realized just how high the fence was.
“She won’t clear it,” I said to myself, feeling my heart fall to my feet. Dahlia’s limp was bad now, but if she tried to jump that fence, she could break a leg. I looked behind me to see Genny watching from the other side of the fence. Even from this distance, I could see tears tracking down her face.
Dahlia was her heart horse. They’d survived an awful accident together. She’d kept her alive when most other riders I knew would have destroyed her or cast her aside as a lost cause. Genny was still trying to help her. But if Dahlia tried to jump this fence . . .
“Come here, Dahlia.” I heard Jasper talking to Dahlia in a soft, gentle voice. “Steady, girl,” he said, and I slowed my pace until I stood behind him. Dahlia had stopped running but was pacing back and forth along the fence, like she was searching for a way through. I scanned my eyes over her. Her fetlock was bleeding and swelling from where she’d knocked it on the fence. She was thick with sweat, and her breathing was erratic. Her ears were pinned back, her mouth was frothing, and her breathing was too quick. She wasn’t going to stop, and she clearly had no intention of listening to Jasper.
“Get back,” I said to the grooms that were approaching. Jasper glanced at me but quickly refocused on Dahlia when she whinnied in a painful tone. It was only a second that Jasper looked away, but it was all Dahlia needed to circle where she stood and attempt the fence.
“No!” I called, just as Dahlia leapt into the wired fence. I saw her front legs slip through the square gaps, my throat closing in fear. Realizing she was stuck, Dahlia began to thrash. In my periphery, I saw one of the grooms run back toward the barn, but I kept focused on Dahlia. Another had wire cutters in his hand. I tried to formulate a plan.
Jasper rushed forward, dodging Dahlia’s writhing body. “Careful,” I said as he narrowly missed her back hoof hitting his ribs.
“Get back, Hallie,” he said, and when he turned to look at me, I saw everything on his face laid bare. Fear, sadness, panic . . . his sister. He knew if we didn’t do something, and quickly, Dahlia was going to irreparably hurt herself. It was written there on his face for me to see in plain sight.
Jasper tried to approach the mare again. “Dahlia, calm,” he said, but I could hear the nerves breaking in his voice. His tone was pleading, like he knew what Dahlia’s death would do to his sister and couldn’t bear to face it.
I looked back over the field, and Genny was still there, face fixed our way as her hands gripped the fence posts.
“Shit,” Jasper hissed. When I turned to him, he was holding his arm where Dahlia’s hoof must have clipped him. The groom that had run for the barn was coming back over, and my stomach dropped when I saw what he held in his hand.
A rifle.
No.
That wasn’t happening on my watch.
Moving to Jasper, I placed my hand on his shoulder. He whipped his head around. His eyes were wide, and there was so much dread and distress in his brown gaze that I wanted to cry for him.