The end of war should have been joyful, but Shannon’s husband, Albert, returned from the trenches a grim-faced humourless shadow of himself. She shouldered his sorrow along with her other burdens and got along as best she could.
But when her old pony died the desolation was almost too much to bear. She had nobody left to lean on and she felt as if the next strong wind would blow her away.
The men went to market as usual, returning late and cold. They gently herded her out to the barn where a little brown pony whickered a welcome…
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