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“About five foot six, black hair, gray eyes. Legs for days.”

Jessamy.

“Shit,” I said. “I’ll be there in a few.”

Dempsey got on the radio in the next second. “No sign of her. What do you want me to do?”

“Go home,” I said. “It wasn’t her.”

Dempsey paused. “Boss…”

“She’s at Denver’s place, and apparently has been for hours,” I lied.

This girl was going to be the death of me.

“Well, then who stole the horse?” Dempsey asked.

“Don’t know,” I said. “But I’m sure we’ll find out.”

I arrived at Denver’s place to every light blazing.

The arena he used to break his horses in or get them exercise was also lit up, so I headed in that direction.

Denver kept early hours, but he certainly didn’t keep two in the morning hours.

I walked up to the arena’s fence where Denver stood leaning against the wood posts, his arms laying out on the top bar of the corral.

In the pen was an emaciated horse, Jessamy, and Denver’s old lady, Holly.

Jessamy was dressed like a polar bear in a huge white parka, black ski pants, and boots that were three sizes too big for her.

Holly was in much sturdier work clothing, Carhartt coveralls, jacket, and a head scarf covering her ears.

She had her hands moving down the poor horse’s withers.

“She walked all the way here,” Denver said when he saw me come up to his side.

I gritted my teeth.

From that corner farm where the horse had been to here was a solid two hours on a good day. And she’d done it in the middle of the night.

She could’ve been hit or worse.

Both the horse and her were wearing white. They would’ve blended right in.

“That horse is fucked up,” Denver said. “He needs a lot of help. Holly saw him and freaked.”

“I’m sure that she did,” I said. “I’ve been trying to get in there, but every time I go by there, the horse has food and water. She always has a great reason why he looked that way, too. He’s ‘twenty-five’ and ‘dying.’”

“This horse is eight, max,” Holly said as she came up to us. “He’s severely malnourished. Needs a lot of work. One of his hooves is infected. Honestly, I’m surprised that he made it all the way here.”

“With that kind of incentive,” Denver mused, tilting his head toward Jessamy.

The horse looked like he was half in love with her.

He was leaning his head against her, using her as support. She was also feeding him sugar cubes that he gobbled up each time she offered one.

“She saved him.” Holly looked over her shoulder. “I’m going to give him forty-eight hours. Then I’ll decide what needs to be done.”