Dark Horse Read Online Free Page A

You think she’ll settle down for you?”
    The men holding Cleo’s ropes are shouting back and forth while Cleo keeps rearing and pawing.
    “I don’t know,” I admit. “But I’d like to try.”
    He nods slowly, then hollers to one of the men holding the ropes, “Matt! Hank here wants to try to talk the horse down. He’s the owner.”
    The officer nearest us shouts back, “I don’t know, Chief. The kid could get hurt.”
    Cleo squeals and tugs at the ropes.
    Chief Mooney seems to be considering everything. Then he says, “Hank, you can try. But keep your distance. And be careful. Anything happens, you’re out of there, hear?”
    I nod, then move closer. The four men have formed a square around Cleo. Ropes on all sides are taut. One of the men is standing directly in front of the horse, right in her blind spot, making her even more nervous.
    I move in from the side. “Take it easy, Cleo. Nobody wants to hurt you.”
    She snorts. I can practically see fire coming from her nostrils. She’s that angry. And that raw, burned patch on her rump looks worse than I thought.
    I step closer and reach for the nearest rope. The others are pulling hard the whole time. I want to slack up the rope when she gives me something, anything—a look, a drop of her head, any little sign of trust. When she comes down from the rear, I can slack the pressure, tell her she’s a good girl.
    I recognize the guy holding the rope I want. Kevin something. We knew each other at Nice High. Kevin’s not that much older than me.
    “Hank,” he says, “I don’t have a good feeling about this, man.”
    “It’ll be okay.” I reach for the rope.
    “Look out!” somebody shouts.
    Kevin jerks the rope away from me.
    Cleo’s hooves crash down, and immediately she tries to bolt. She gets a few feet, but the policemen have her held.
    “Cleo?” I call, stepping closer.
    Cleo lunges in my direction but not at me. She’s just struggling, trying anything to get loose.
    “Careful, man!” Kevin shouts.
    “Somebody get him out of here!” barks the policeman standing in front of Cleo.
    Deputy Hendren jogs up to me. “Listen, the vet’s on his way. Come on. Let’s go back.”
    “Hank!” Chief Mooney shouts, as Hendren walks me away from Cleo, toward the squad car. “You know any of these farms out here? Is there somebody who’d let us put the horse in one of these pastures?”
    It’s getting dark, and I have to focus to figure out where we are and whose fields we’re near.
    “The old McCray farm’s right there!” I shout, pointing across the road. To Deputy Hendren, I explain, “The McCrays went bankrupt two years ago, and the pastures have sat empty since. The fences are still up and in good shape.”
    “Just a minute.” Hendren dashes over to Chief Mooney and says something before jogging back to me. “All set,” he says. “And the vet should be here any minute. Come on. Let’s get you home.”
    “Maybe I should stay.” But even I can hear that I don’t mean it. I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t want to see what they have to do to get Cleopatra sedated and into that pasture.
    I follow the deputy to his car and tell myself that it will go easier without me. To Cleo, I’m the crazy person who chased her from the barn.
    I get into the squad car and don’t look back. Even with the windows closed, I hear Cleo squeal. But I don’t look. I want to scream and drown out her cries with my own. But I don’t do that, either.
    I keep my gaze trained on the floor of the car and on my own boots. I wonder how many prisoners have done this exact same thing.
    I smell, rather than see, when we near home. The stench sneaks through our closed car windows.
    The car stops, and I look up. One fire truck still sits on the lawn. The media van is gone. There’s no sign of Dakota or Blackfire or Starlight.
    People are streaming in and out of the front door. Sacks of feed line the side of the house, apparently gifts from neighbors. Mrs.