looked at her. An angry horse snobwith pale thighs? Or maybe someone he thought was too scared to find out what this auction was all about? Or maybe an attractive young … Jas stopped to clear her head.
“You coming?” he asked.
“No, it’s all right. I think I’ll stay here,” she said. “I brought a book.” She held it up, blushing when she remembered that a girl and boy were kissing on the cover. Quickly, she flipped it around.
“Suit yourself,” he muttered as he headed across the grass toward a low building.
Miss Hahn came around the front of the truck. “Don’t mind him, Jas. He pretends he can handle it, but it’s hard for him, too. It’s hard for all of us.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Miss Hahn shook her head. She’d worn a baseball cap with a logo that read: ALL GOD’S CREATURES HAVE A PLACE IN HEAVEN .
“Because someone has to. But we aren’t making that much of a dent. About eighty percent of the horses at this auction will be bought by the killers. We obviously can’t save them all.”
Jas had heard enough. Pressing the book against her chest, she hurried over to a tree.“I’ll just stay here and read,” she said, plopping down Indian-style with her back against the tree.
Miss Hahn studied her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you get back,” Jas assured her.
“I know. We’ll try not to be too long,” Miss Hahn said, smiling. Then she left, striding after Chase with her swinging gait.
Like a pirate with a peg leg
, Jas decided, wondering if she’d injured it riding.
Opening the book, Jas tried to read about lovesick Tessa and hunky Sam, but her mind drifted every time a horse whinnied or a truck started up. Whenever a horse was loaded on one of the huge tractor-trailers, the echo of hooves on the wooden ramp made Jas’s heart ache.
She knew about the killer buyers. They bought loads of horses and hauled them to slaughterhouses. The meat was then shipped to Europe and Japan, where horse steaks are considered a delicacy.
A man wearing a cowboy hat, his cheek bulging with chewing tobacco, walked by leading a horse. Jas watched the horse shufflepast, his head hanging so low that his bottom lip grazed the tips of the high grass.
He was a big horse, over sixteen-three hands. Jas could tell that he had once been muscular, too. Jas thought he might be a Thoroughbred or a Warmblood, though it was hard to tell since his body was so gaunt, his coat sprinkled with orange hair, his gait awkward because of stiffness in his hind end.
As she continued to watch the horse pass, it dawned on Jas what was wrong with him. Last spring, Pocomo Pete, one of Hugh’s top field hunters, had started looking just like this one. At first, Hugh’s vet had been baffled. But after many tests, the vet figured out what was wrong. And Jas had spent so many hours with Pocomo and the vet that she’d recognize the same symptoms anywhere.
Closing her book, she jumped to her feet.
What’s going to happen to this horse?
she thought. Her stomach began to tighten at the possibilities.
Leaving her book by the tree, Jas hurried after the man and the horse. They disappeared through the entrance to the auction.
“Eighty percent of the horses at this auction will be
bought by the killers.”
Miss Hahn’s statement echoed in Jas’s head. When she reached the building, she looked inside.
People and horses were everywhere. She could hear the singsong voice of the auctioneer, and when she glanced to the left, she saw bleachers half hidden by a high wall. Beyond the wall was a small arena. She could just see the head of a horse as someone led it in front of the bidders.
To her left and right were temporary stalls. At the end of the aisle, a ceiling-tall door opened to the outside, where she spotted corrals filled with horses, burros, and ponies.
The cowboy and the horse were nowhere in sight. Jas walked down the aisle, peering into the stalls. Several held two or more horses packed together like
“You coming?” he asked.
“No, it’s all right. I think I’ll stay here,” she said. “I brought a book.” She held it up, blushing when she remembered that a girl and boy were kissing on the cover. Quickly, she flipped it around.
“Suit yourself,” he muttered as he headed across the grass toward a low building.
Miss Hahn came around the front of the truck. “Don’t mind him, Jas. He pretends he can handle it, but it’s hard for him, too. It’s hard for all of us.”
“Then why do you do it?”
Miss Hahn shook her head. She’d worn a baseball cap with a logo that read: ALL GOD’S CREATURES HAVE A PLACE IN HEAVEN .
“Because someone has to. But we aren’t making that much of a dent. About eighty percent of the horses at this auction will be bought by the killers. We obviously can’t save them all.”
Jas had heard enough. Pressing the book against her chest, she hurried over to a tree.“I’ll just stay here and read,” she said, plopping down Indian-style with her back against the tree.
Miss Hahn studied her.
“Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you get back,” Jas assured her.
“I know. We’ll try not to be too long,” Miss Hahn said, smiling. Then she left, striding after Chase with her swinging gait.
Like a pirate with a peg leg
, Jas decided, wondering if she’d injured it riding.
Opening the book, Jas tried to read about lovesick Tessa and hunky Sam, but her mind drifted every time a horse whinnied or a truck started up. Whenever a horse was loaded on one of the huge tractor-trailers, the echo of hooves on the wooden ramp made Jas’s heart ache.
She knew about the killer buyers. They bought loads of horses and hauled them to slaughterhouses. The meat was then shipped to Europe and Japan, where horse steaks are considered a delicacy.
A man wearing a cowboy hat, his cheek bulging with chewing tobacco, walked by leading a horse. Jas watched the horse shufflepast, his head hanging so low that his bottom lip grazed the tips of the high grass.
He was a big horse, over sixteen-three hands. Jas could tell that he had once been muscular, too. Jas thought he might be a Thoroughbred or a Warmblood, though it was hard to tell since his body was so gaunt, his coat sprinkled with orange hair, his gait awkward because of stiffness in his hind end.
As she continued to watch the horse pass, it dawned on Jas what was wrong with him. Last spring, Pocomo Pete, one of Hugh’s top field hunters, had started looking just like this one. At first, Hugh’s vet had been baffled. But after many tests, the vet figured out what was wrong. And Jas had spent so many hours with Pocomo and the vet that she’d recognize the same symptoms anywhere.
Closing her book, she jumped to her feet.
What’s going to happen to this horse?
she thought. Her stomach began to tighten at the possibilities.
Leaving her book by the tree, Jas hurried after the man and the horse. They disappeared through the entrance to the auction.
“Eighty percent of the horses at this auction will be
bought by the killers.”
Miss Hahn’s statement echoed in Jas’s head. When she reached the building, she looked inside.
People and horses were everywhere. She could hear the singsong voice of the auctioneer, and when she glanced to the left, she saw bleachers half hidden by a high wall. Beyond the wall was a small arena. She could just see the head of a horse as someone led it in front of the bidders.
To her left and right were temporary stalls. At the end of the aisle, a ceiling-tall door opened to the outside, where she spotted corrals filled with horses, burros, and ponies.
The cowboy and the horse were nowhere in sight. Jas walked down the aisle, peering into the stalls. Several held two or more horses packed together like
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