We head east, past the field, past the house. Dennis leads the way. Turk’s a buckskin, part American Saddlebred. I follow on Lady, his part-Shetland strawberry roan. She’s my age, and I think she’s jealous. She limps. And swings her head around to nip at my feet. I call ahead. I think she’s hurt. […]
daring to open doors
