Everyone Called Her 24 Starving Mares Worthless—Then Their Foals Started a Bidding War

Chapter 2

The next morning, Hannah’s neighbor arrived before breakfast.

Walter Price leaned against the fence and stared at the mares.

“You really did it.”

Hannah carried a bucket of feed toward the barn.

“I did.”

“Twenty-four.”

“I can count.”

Walter shook his head.

“You’re going to lose your shirt.”

“I don’t have a shirt worth losing.”

He laughed.

“That’s not funny.”

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“I wasn’t joking.”

Walter looked at the animals.

“They’re in terrible shape.”

“I know.”

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“Some of them aren’t going to make it.”

Hannah stopped.

“We’ll see.”

Walter sighed.

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“I’ve been around horses forty years.”

“And I’ve been around these twenty-four for twelve hours.”

“You think you know better?”

“No.”

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She looked at him.

“I think they deserve a chance.”

Walter’s expression softened.

“Your father would’ve hated this.”

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Hannah smiled sadly.

“My father would’ve told me it was stupid.”

“Exactly.”

“Then he’d have helped me anyway.”

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Walter didn’t answer.

He had known Hannah’s father, Daniel Brooks, for decades.

Daniel had been a horseman.

Not a wealthy one.

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Not famous.

But he understood bloodlines.

He could look at a horse and notice things other people missed.

Hannah had spent her childhood riding beside him.

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She remembered him saying that the best horse wasn’t always the prettiest.

“Watch what they produce,” he’d told her once.

“Why?”

“Because a horse can hide weakness for a while. A bloodline can’t.”

She hadn’t understood then.

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Now she remembered.

Hannah spent the next several days treating the mares.

Veterinarian Dr. Rachel Adams examined each one.

Rachel frowned at the records.

“They’re a mess.”

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“That’s what the auctioneer said.”

“He’s not wrong.”

Hannah waited.

Rachel continued.

“But they’re not hopeless.”

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She pointed to the chestnut.

“That mare has a beautiful shoulder.”

Another had unusually straight hind legs.

One gray mare had a broad chest and strong pasterns despite being severely underweight.

“And this one,” Rachel said, touching a dark bay mare’s neck, “has an interesting frame.”

“Interesting good?”

“Potentially.”

Hannah smiled.

“That’s enough for me.”

Rachel looked at her.

“You know this will cost money.”

“I know.”

“And they need months.”

“I know.”

“Possibly years.”

Hannah glanced toward the pasture.

“I inherited this farm because my father believed it was worth saving.”

Rachel smiled.

“Then let’s save it.”

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