Page 78 - BornToRunFlipBook

same. “Well, doesn’t that beat all,”

the third man said, after he had taken

up a position a safe distance from the

fence. “It’s like the horse thinks this

young man belongs to him, or the

horse to him, or something.”

They sat there watching as I

continued to brush Cashmere, each

trying to come up with an explanation

as to his behavior. No one had a final

conclusion, and I was as much at a

loss about it as anyone.

Eventually they tired of it all and

climbed into their vehicles and left. I

finished brushing Cashmere and

stood back to look at him. Once he

was brushed, he was an especially

handsome horse. I had thought he

was a blackish-gray, but he was

actually a pure, shiny black, with a

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