Blood and Salt by Barbara Sapergia

on you!”
    I moved off a little further, but I could still see and hear everything.
    “I’m sure the pahn would never go back on his word.” Krentz looked grave.
    Radoski’s face got so red I thought his head might explode. “No, of course not.” He seemed to be grinding his teeth. He was losing his horse, and looking bad in the bargain.
    Krentz counted out the money into the pahn’s hand. Radoski seemed to be trying not to cry. Krentz took hold of the bridle, stroked the horse’s mane.
    “You’re mine now, my beauty.” Krentz led the bay mare up to Imperator and the stallion edged closer to her, nuzzling her neck. Holding her reins in one hand, Krentz mounted Imperator and took him into an easy walk as the mare kept stride. Called over his shoulder, “Doh pobachenya, Pahn.”
    I began to climb the hill above the house, but I couldn’t resist looking back one last time as the pahn watched his wonderful stallion walk out of the yard. If I could ever have felt sorry for him, it would have been at that moment. But I couldn’t. I admit I enjoyed it. And having the colonel speak to him in Ukrainian must have been the last straw. He kicked at a clump of dirt and smacked his big toe on a rock instead. He waved the toe in the air, holding back curses until it sounded like he was sobbing and cursing all at once. Still I felt no pity.
    “My saddle!” Radoski almost strangled on the words. Krentz hadn’t paid for the saddle! He looked around for someone to take it out on and saw his gardener.
    “Sava!” he yelled.
    I had walked almost up to the forest when Krentz caught up to me and asked if I wanted to ride the mare as far as the village. Naturally I said yes.
    “I forgot to ask,” he said, “what’s my new horse’s name?”
    “Pahn Radoski called him Imperator.” I tried not to let on that I thought it was a stupid name.
    “Doesn’t do him justice. Still, if that’s what he’s used to...”
    We walked the horses through the trees, enjoying the warm sunshine. Back at home, I slid my money between two layers of backing behind the portrait of Shevchenko. Money that would help Halya and me when we got married.

    “Douzhe dobre,” Tymko says. “It’s always satisfying to see a pahn thwarted.”
    “Yes, but wait a minute,” Yuriy says. “Why is this fancy officer taking your part?”
    “Maybe he hates Polish landlords,” Ihor says. “That Radoski sure didn’t deserve such a fine horse.”
    “A horse like living smoke,” Myro adds.
    Taras feels foolish. “All right, I made a mistake. I said my story started on Drenched Monday. The day the trucks came. I see now that it started before that.”
    “Aha!” says Tymko. “He tried to trick us. Explain yourself, young man.”
    “All right, it started more than four years ago. An officer of the Chernowitz garrison was riding near Shevchana when his horse, a grey gelding it was, threw a shoe.”
    “A grey gelding now, is it?” says Tymko.
    “Good beginning,” Ihor says.
    “Now we’re getting somewhere.” Yuriy winks and everyone laughs.
    “Was his name Krentz?” Tymko asks. “The officer, I mean, not the horse.”
    “Wait and see. So this officer led his horse into the village, looking for a blacksmith. Batko was in the fields, but I said I could help. I could see he wasn’t sure he could trust me. He watched me lead the horse into the smithy and saw how I made friends with him. How quiet his horse stayed while I examined the hoof. He asked many questions to see if I knew what I was doing. I said I’d make a new shoe for his horse and began to build up the fire.”

    “Why don’t you just use the old one?” The officer handed me the cast shoe.
    I held it up for him to examine. “Many reasons. First – see these grooves? The shoe is worn and could break, hurting the horse. Also, the pattern of wear could throw his balance off. Then you don’t get a smooth ride, and it could injure the horse’s foot.”
    The officer nodded. “So