door Summer held open.
A shuffling noise caught his attention. Spinning around, he found three tall horses standing at the fence, watching him with rapt attention. Must be the rescued thoroughbreds Summer mentioned.
Walking over, he reached out to the nearest one, a black with just a spot of white on his nose and two white socks on his front legs. His practiced gaze raked over each horse, studying their conformation, their lines, and rippling muscles. He whistled low. Talk about well-bred, high-class horseflesh.
As a kid, he'd longed for a horse of his own. A typical dream of most children, he assumed. But, no matter how hard his mother worked, a farm full of beautiful horses wouldn't come to pass. That fact didn't deter him in the least. Notching his fascination down to his Native American heritage, he studied the animals, learned everything he could, checked out every library book devoted to the study of such noble beasts. In junior high, his dream nearly came true. For holding high grades, high risk students were rewarded with an all expense paid trip to the summer camp of their choosing. One of those camps featured a ranch setting, complete with horses, cattle, and riding the range, being a real cowboy for two weeks. He leapt at the chance, soaking up every minute and each tiny bit of knowledge that he could from the workers and vets at the Rising Sun Ranch. More motivated than ever, he worked extra hard to make straight As in school, earning a return trip for six consecutive years.
Once he graduated high school, he longed for college and to pursue further education, but fell short due to lack of funds. A couple of scholarships came his way, but neither proved to be full ride and only paid a portion of the high cost of higher education. Not discouraged, he looked to the army, enrolling right after graduation.
In all honesty, he pushed aside his love of horses and dreams of owning and riding them once he entered the military. After all, when you had no real home of your own, were sent all over the world at a moment's notice, and had no inkling when or if you would make it back, dreams such as a farm, family, and children became a distant fog. You learned to live in the present, not hope for the future.
He didn't realize how much he still dreamed of a life with horses until now, his hand resting on a chiseled, regal face, the smell of dust and hide fresh in his nostrils. If he closed his eyes, he could easily transport back to those glorious days at the ranch, spending hours in the saddle, and loving every minute of it.
"Aren't they beautiful?" Summer's voice carried to him as she moved to stand at his side, stroking the forehead of a bay.
"Gorgeous." The words came out automatically as he marveled over such amazing animals. He always considered racehorses to be nervous and jumpy, even temperamental. Nothing in their behavior resembled those previous beliefs. Instead, each one pushed against the other, seeking nothing more than a human hand to rub their shiny hide. Each one carried themselves well, nicely rounded with a layer of fat over their ribs, looking to be in the peak of health.
Glancing down, he checked out their long legs, noticing extra large, bulging knees on one of them. "What's wrong with his knees?" He asked, using both hands to stroke under the noseband of a leather halter, grinning when the tall black gelding nearly groaned in contentment.
"Bone chips. That's Domino, by the way. He raced for a while but only earned modest winnings. When he developed bone chips, they retired him. His owners didn't feel he warranted life as a stud, so they allowed a thoroughbred adoption program to take him rather than send him to the slaughterhouse. The foster home gelded him, had surgery done on his knees, and basically prepared him for life as a pasture pet since he can't be ridden."
A blood bay with a strong white stripe down the center of his face pushed his nose into Night's chest, nudging pointedly for