Take Me Home by Nancy Herkness Read Free Book Online Page B

greasy sandwich wrapper and tossed it in the tin trash can.
    “But it’s worth it,” Claire said. “I used to dream of Joe’s milk shakes when I was in New York.”
    “Sharon, what’s a whisper horse?” Holly asked, pushing away the remaining half of her sandwich.
    “I’ll show you.” Claire stood up and pulled Holly to her feet and toward the door. “Come on, sis. I have to warn you that Willow’s not pretty. She was abused and starved by her former owner. But she has a kind spirit.”
    Holly had taken riding lessons for a year before she had decided she would rather play with smaller, less scary things, like dolls and puppies. Her tone was dubious when she said, “A horse with a kind spirit.”
    “It’s in her eyes and the way she rested her head against me. You’ll see.”
    When they arrived at the stall, it was empty, though. “Oh dear,” Claire said, “where do you suppose she is?”
    “If you’re looking for Willow, Dr. Tim took her out for a stroll,” a young woman lugging a hay bale down the aisle volunteered.
    Claire’s disappointment flipped to anticipation mixed with worry. Sharon hadn’t mentioned Willow having any new problems, so hopefully the vet was just checking up on her.
    She grimaced as she remembered that she needed to cancel their dinner date. However, she didn’t want to do it in front of Holly, so she would put that unpleasant chore off until later.
    Turning toward the barn’s back door, she saw the silhouette of a man leading a horse, recognizing Tim by his long, steady stride.
    “Is Willow all right?” she asked as he came closer.
    “She’s fine, all things considered.” He pulled up the mare a few feet away and ran his hand down her neck. “I wanted to see if she showed any active pain when she was moving.”
    Claire watched his square hand glide soothingly over the horse’s dull coat. “So how does she seem?” She stepped forward to greet her whisper horse. “Hey, girl. How’s it going?”
    Willow butted her head gently against Claire’s chest, just as she’d done before.
    “She’s not in any pain, but she can’t handle much more than a slow trot. Those old injuries give her trouble if she goes any faster.”
    “You poor girl! Do you think she misses being able to gallop?” she asked, looking up at Tim and feeling a little zing of awareness when she met his eyes. “Sharon says she’s a Thoroughbred, so she’s got speed in her genes.”
    “Well, right now, I’d guess she’s happy just to be fed. Once she’s stronger, she may have the luxury of wishing she could gallop again.”
    “That breaks my heart. We should all be able to do what we’re meant to.” Claire rested her forehead against the mare’s. “I’ll take you for lots of walks, sweet girl, I promise.”
    “Being cared about should more than make up for the loss of a gallop or two,” Tim said.
    She glanced up to find sadness in his eyes. What on earth had she said to make him look that way? Oh God, was it something about his wife?
    Holly cleared her throat loudly.
    “Oh goodness, I’m sorry,” Claire said. “Holly, this is Dr. Tim Arbuckle. Tim, my sister, Holly Snedegar.”
    Holly hesitated a moment before she put her hand in Tim’s. “I heard you’d come back to town and bought Dr. Messer’s practice. My neighbor Janet Bostic says you took real good care of her cat Chuck.”
    “Glad to hear she was happy. Was that the calico who swallowed the squeaker from his cat toy?”
    “Wow, you have a good memory!” Holly said.
    “Well, to be honest, it stuck in my mind because it was kind of funny. Every time the poor cat moved, he set off the squeaker. Then he would spin around to see where the noise had come from, which made it squeak again. He was pretty exhausted by the time Mrs. Bostic brought him in.”
    Claire stifled a laugh. “Poor fellow. I assume the story had a happy ending.”
    “I’m only telling it because it had a happy ending. First, I removed the squeaker.”