Page 99 of All We Carry Home

“Do you remember Eddie Moore from Hostau and Kötzting? These are his children, Annie and Peter.” I motioned at Warren. “The captain and I are . . . well, I’m training Phantom. You might remember him.”

“Oh, Phantom. Beautiful colt, bloody shoulder.”

“What are you doing here?” I glanced around. “Where is Bret?”

I had met Adia and her fiancé, Bret Conway, in Kötzting. After VJ Day, when I’d returned to Europe to find Mira, they’d still been stationed in Germany, awaiting further negotiations on the prized stallion Lubor, who they had planned to import to Adia’s farm here in the States.

“He’s still in Germany with Ewan and Lubor until the paperwork finally clears for the horse and Bret’s discharge from MI6.” Ewan was her adopted Polish son. “I came back to chase down as many Janów horses as we can find. The lineage is all but extinct. We’re hoping to get Lubor home by the end of the year. You must be here for Janów horses too?”

“Just one.”

“Which one? I only saw a few.” She opened her program with the list of horse names that were up for sale.

“Mira.”

Adia blinked and looked confused. “Mira’s here?”

Dread filled my stomach. Mira was worth a fortune based on her lineage. Adia knew that—she’d been with the Janów Podlaski horses in Poland since 1937 and had even traveled with them to Hostau during the Nazi occupation.

Warren passed me a hesitant glance. “I confirmed with my source that she was on the list for sale.”

“I didn’t see her in the pens yesterday during the auction preview.” Adia looked through the printed list of horses. “Oh, I do see a Mira listed. Perhaps I missed her when I looked through the lot.”

I hoped with everything inside me that she was wrong and that the Mira listed on her sheet of paper was the Mira we sought. We didn’t have time to see if she was there, not without losing our seating among the thick crowd. We’d have to see whether the right horse walked across the auction block.

Adia turned and talked with Annie and Peter.

I stepped closer to Warren. “If we wasted three days for nothing . . .”

“We don’t know that yet,” he said.

The first horse walked into the small arena at the center of the large crowd and below the elevated platform where the auctioneer and several assistants stood by. From here, everything would happen at lightning speed.

Warren and I had agreed to a price we’d be willing to split. I’d need to discuss with him later that I’d trade that amount for a future foal when I moved Mira and Phantom to another trainer. I wasn’t ready to have that argument with him now. When it came to that point, I’d probably have to tell him the full truth, and only then would he understand why.

Horse after horse cycled through the stands. Mixed-breed horses, former track horses, draft horses, Thoroughbreds, Arabians, mustangs—everything that the US Army had once acquired was for sale. All Army property being sold like the excess Jeeps and trucks. No longer needed now that the world had laid down their arms.

Adia bought a few horses—some of the Janów horses I otherwise would have snagged if I wasn’t leveraging every cent I had to bring Mira home.

“She should be next,” Adia said. We both stood on our toes to look for any sight of the gray mare.

Warren muttered a curse under his breath, and Adia echoed it. My heart sank, and I hadn’t the breath to spare for words.

It wasn’t Mira. It was a chestnut-colored mare who probably was named Mira, but she wasn’t Janów bred. She wasn’t the mother of the bloody shoulder colt.

“I’m going to walk the barns,” I said. I held my hand up to stop Warren from speaking. “I just need a moment.”

I wandered through the barn aisles, turning without thought or destination. Finding Mira felt like another pointless chase that would forever be out of my reach. The same as any dream I’d once had—of a future with a family, of finding some way to make up for all the damage I’d caused.

I’d hoped Warren might have been the good luck charm I needed. He’d find Mira one day. He’d change the world in a way I never could. He wanted to save thousands, not just the handfuls of men and horses that fit in our makeshift tents and bunks at Birkstrom.

A heart of gold and the son of a banking dynasty. He had the resources to do what I never could.

I’d known his time was limited in Oregon. A few short months and then it would all be over.

Whether Phantom won or lost in the national competition, the prestige from that show would see to it that he’d never be cast out from a stables or trainer again. I’d be able to rest easy knowing Warren would keep him safe.

“We’ll find Mira, I promise.”