On the ride over, she concentrated on relaxing one muscle at a time. The hardest had been her hands. She’d watched Fred guide his horse, his massive paws barely holding the reins. She’d had to concentrate fiercely on each finger but had managed to ride the last five hundred yards with the reins just resting in her sweaty palms. She had hiked up her skirt so that she could slide off the saddle in one motion. It hadn’t been smooth or pretty but she had done it on her own. Now she stood next to her horse, rubbing her hand down its velvet nose. “Thanks, sweet thing,” she murmured. “Not as convenient as a cab, but you’ll do.” “What’s that, Sarah?” Fred asked. For a big man, he moved quietly. “Nothing. Just making small talk with my horse.” Fred pressed his lips together. “I imagine Thunder is glad to have a woman on her back again. Franny loved to ride.” Thunder. Fred’s big brute of an animal was named Lightning. Thunder and Lightning. What nature had seen fit to put together, disease had ripped apart.
