A Novel About A Horse

The Bridge

The Village of Codsall, Staffordshire, England, 2007

“No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted.” — Aesop

The woman stood on the railway bridge and looked out at the beautiful field to the right of the tracks. She never expected to be on this bridge again. It was a bridge from another life. A bridge where a teenage girl had stood on the wall to jump in front of a train. It was a bridge from which you could often see a black horse race the train as if his very life depended on the outcome. It was a bridge that connected one life to another. There was only before the bridge and after, there was nothing in between.

It had taken a funeral to get her back to England. A funeral for a man who had been very kind to her as a child. Now he had left her a fortune she never knew he had. He’d gone to America for a short time in the early eighties and while there had started investing in stocks. He was a salesman and made good money but nothing like the type of money his stocks had made. His Apple stock alone was worth several million dollars, and he had plenty of other winners as well. Microsoft, HP, and Cisco Systems, whatever that was. He had never sold any of it and now all that money was coming to her. She didn’t really need it for she was a successful doctor, but it would allow her to do something she had…