Summer's Night by Cheyenne Meadows Read Free Book Online

attention. All but his left rear leg carried white stockings, contrasting nicely with the deep reddish-brown color.
    "Okay. Okay. I get the message." Night chuckled at the antics of the shortest horse in the group, but only by a couple of inches at the withers. All three had to stand around sixteen hands, in his opinion.
    Summer giggled. "And that's Tolly. He's quite the ham."
    "What's his story?" Night rubbed over the sleek muscles of Tolly's neck.
    "He's the oldest, twenty-one this year. Back in his day, he was quite the racehorse, won a handful of major grade-one races, came in third in the Kentucky Derby. As he got older, he began to lag, so they set him up for stud. Unfortunately, they soon discovered he was sterile. The owners kept him around as a pet and to hang out in the pasture with the newly weaned foals, like a nanny. But, as times got a bit harder and he aged, they made the decision to let him go. Luckily, the rescue took him in and let me adopt him."
    "You have some prime horseflesh, here." He commented, amazed that he stood in the middle of nowhere, petting horses that once ran and won, earning their owners thousands of dollars, perhaps more. Never before had he considered what happened to retired racehorses or the ones that simply didn't make the grade to begin with. Now that he knew, he applauded the organizations transitioning such beautiful and deserving animals into an adoptive home for average people to admire and love.
    Summer sidestepped before reaching over the fence to caress the nose of the tallest horse, a dark gray gelding with deep black eyes, a wide, powerful build, and white mane with a matching tail that brushed the ground. The animal stepped closer, snuffling her ear before resting his chin on her shoulder. She massaged his neck with a smile on her face. "This is Ghost. He's a great grandson of Secretariat. Major bloodlines and lots of money went into his breeding."
    Night appraised the gray horse for the first time, once again astounded at the racing royalty that stood before him. "Did he race?"
    She nodded, tucking her fingers under his halter to rub an itchy spot on his cheek. "Yeah. From what the owners said, either he lacked the speed or the heart or both. He basically fell short of their expectations, so they sent him away, replaced him with another more profitable animal."
    He glanced over at her, seeing the sadness flash across her face as she spoke of the side effect of breeding and raising thousands of racehorses every year. Like the overpopulation of dogs and cats, each year a surplus of horses existed, those that didn't make the cut on the track. The slaughterhouse took most of those, he imagined, but a few lucky ones ended up in adoptive homes, living out their days as big pets and companion animals, or even managed a second career if their health stood up to the task.
    "Were these the only horses they had at the time?"
    "Oh, goodness no." Summer fussed over the gray gelding some more. "I only visited one foster farm and saw perhaps seven or eight horses. I'm sure they had more and know, for a fact, that other foster homes exist. Since I leaned toward adopting a pasture pet rather than a horse that I could show and ride in events, they steered me toward the one place."
    "So, why these three?" He resumed brushing Tolly's forelock with his fingers, straightening the black hair to center between his eyes.
    She tilted her head this way and that as if searching for an answer. "I'm not really sure. To be corny, they called to me. Something just meshed. Does that make sense?" She glanced over at him.
    He nodded. "Yeah, it does." Just like his attraction to her. She simply called to him on some basic level.
    For the first time, he truly saw Summer's innate goodness, her true compassion, not only for people but for animals in need. She said only one horse could be ridden, the gray had to be it. The other two, she simply fed and cared for, shelling out a lot of money for the simple joy of