But Walter wasn't interested in the horse's reputation.
He was interested in something else.
Two weeks earlier, Walter had received a letter from the auction manager.
There had been a handwritten note at the bottom.
If you understand horses the way I think you do, you should come see this one.
Walter had read that sentence three times.
He had spent sixty years around horses.
He knew one thing better than almost anyone.
A frightened horse was not necessarily a dangerous horse.
Sometimes, anger was simply fear wearing armor.
Walter leaned back in his chair.
Then the auctioneer entered the ring.
The crowd grew louder.
The first horses were brought out.
Walter watched.
He didn't bid.
Then another.
Still nothing.
His three hundred dollars remained untouched.
Charles Whitmore purchased two horses before noon.
One for twelve thousand dollars.
Another for twenty-eight thousand.
Each time, applause followed.
Walter simply watched.
Finally, during the early afternoon, the auctioneer raised his microphone.
"And now, ladies and gentlemen..."
The crowd quieted.
"We have reached Lot Forty-Seven."
Walter sat forward.
The side gate opened.
The horse walked into the arena.
And the entire room changed.
Thunder was enormous.
His coat was black as midnight, shining beneath the overhead lights. A white star marked his forehead, shaped almost like a crooked flame.
He walked with his head high.
Two handlers stood several feet away holding ropes.
Thunder snorted.
The horse suddenly jerked sideways.
One handler stumbled.
The crowd gasped.
The auctioneer swallowed.
"This is Thunder."
Thunder slammed one hoof against the ground.
The sound echoed through the arena.
Nobody laughed now.
The auctioneer continued.
"Seventeen hands. Seven years old. Exceptional breeding. Outstanding speed and strength."
A man in the front row shouted:
"Temper?"
The auctioneer gave an uncomfortable smile.
"Independent."
Someone laughed nervously.
Thunder turned toward the audience.
His ears moved.
His eyes scanned the crowd.
Then he stopped.
His gaze settled on the back row.
On Walter.
For several seconds, neither moved.
Walter felt something strange.
The horse wasn't looking at him like a wild animal looking for danger.
He was looking at him like an old man might look at someone he had been waiting to see.
Walter slowly stood.
Thunder lowered his head.
The arena became silent.
Charles Whitmore looked over his shoulder.
"What the hell?"
Walter stepped toward the rail.
One of the handlers immediately moved to stop him.
"Sir, stay back."
Walter raised his hands.
"I'm not going to hurt him."
Thunder took one step forward.
The handler froze.
Thunder lowered his head even farther.
Walter whispered:
"Easy, boy."
Thunder stopped fighting.
The enormous stallion stood perfectly still.
And for the first time since entering the auction ring...
Thunder looked peaceful.
Nobody understood what they were seeing.
But Walter did.
Somewhere deep inside that dangerous horse was a memory.
And somehow...
Walter had just become part of it.
Three Hundred Dollars
Nobody spoke for several seconds.
Then the auctioneer cleared his throat.
"Well..."
He looked at Thunder.
Then at Walter.
Then back at the crowd.
"Let's begin."
The bidding started at five thousand dollars.
Walter didn't move.
"Five thousand!"
A man raised his number.
"Six!"
Another bidder responded.
"Seven!"
The price climbed quickly.
Walter remained standing near the rail.
Thunder continued watching him.
The horse had not moved.
Charles Whitmore raised his paddle.
"Ten thousand."
The auctioneer immediately pointed toward him.
"Ten thousand from Mr. Whitmore."
The bidding continued.
"Twelve."
"Fifteen."
"Twenty."
Charles raised his paddle again.
"Twenty-five."
Walter shook his head slightly.
He knew he couldn't compete.
He wasn't even supposed to try.
Three hundred dollars couldn't buy a horse like Thunder.
But Walter didn't leave.
At thirty thousand dollars, the crowd began to thin.
At forty thousand, only three bidders remained.
Charles was one of them.
Finally, the auctioneer called:
"Forty-five thousand!"
Charles raised his paddle.
"Forty-five."
A rancher from Oklahoma responded with fifty.
Charles answered fifty-five.
The Oklahoma man hesitated.
Then lowered his paddle.
The auctioneer looked around.
"Fifty-five thousand. Going once."
Walter looked at Thunder.
The stallion's eyes never left him.
"Going twice."
Walter suddenly lifted his hand.
The auctioneer stared.
The crowd turned.
Walter said quietly:
"Three hundred."
For one second, nobody reacted.
Then laughter exploded through the arena.
Someone shouted:
"Three hundred dollars?"
Another man laughed.
Charles Whitmore leaned back in his chair.