September 29. The day offered a cold, heavy rain. It signaled the start of autumn, which I’d always enjoyed. It was mid-afternoon and I was alone in the barn with Angelo, a beautiful and manageable Palomino to be sold—hopefully at a high price—the following week. I was brushing Angelo and whispering endearments to the majestic beast when Pax found me. He admired my patient, caring work, telling me, “You’re very good with the horses. They love you as much as you love them.”
The barn was chilly and my hands were turning red with the early cold, but I really didn’t care. I kept my eyes on Angelo’s flank. I replied to Pax’s comment with a firm, emotionless “I’ll miss him when he’s gone.”
“And he’ll miss you, I’m sure.” Pax stepped up to my side and watched me work. He was wearing his usual g
