“Don’t worry, old buddy,” Dusty said, stroking the horse’s gleaming neck soothingly. “We’ll get ’em next time.”
He checked that the water in the bucket was clear and the hay in the net smelled sweet before spreading his wool blanket over the fresh bedding in a corner of the stall. Dusty would spend the night there; he didn’t believe in asking his horse to do anything he wouldn’t do himself.
Caveat lowered his head and whickered softly, nuzzling the sleeping body. He didn’t mind losing the race, as long as he had someone to love, who loved him in return.