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ID-0394: Your Friendly Union Representative Isn't As Friendly As You Think

The morning was already slipping sideways by the time Taylor trudged out into the lower pasture, lead rope in hand and her hat pulled low over her brow. She had been up since dawn prepping for Marjorie's inspection, like brushing out every inch of that maddening, beautiful mare, polishing her hooves until they glowed like a gem, and making sure every hair was in place. Gold Rush, as the registry knew her. But to Taylor? Just Marjorie - and oh, how the name fit; because if ever there was a hor...