The sign read Bitter Wells Horse Farm. It was remote, at least 20 miles off the main road. This was horse country and I was sure that by now Jesse had guessed the nature of her training. She didn’t say anything, just continued to stare out the window. What could she say?

We drove up the farm road until we came to a collection of buildings, including a well-kept barn. A small group of men were gathered around something that I couldn’t see. One of them broke away and walked over to the car.

"Mr. Lowe?" the man asked in a friendly way. I nodded and we shook hands. "Jack Warden," he said. "Welcome to Bitter Wells. I got your check and the paperwork last week. We’re all set for you. He ignored Jess, who had walked over to us from the other side of the car.

"Is this the girl?" he asked nodding in her direction.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you want to turn her over now?" he asked. I nodded yes.

"OK, well you just need to give her the order and we’ll get started," his friendly atti...

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