The horse country of Indiana was pleasant. It felt like stepping back in time. Rolling fields and roads cut through pretty, wooded glades. I passed over historic, covered bridges that spanned sparkling creeks. And, as expected, there were horses, lots of horses. They munched at lush grass in generous paddocks, bordered by white picket fences. It looked the way most people probably imagine life is for most horses in the USA. But that picture didn’t last. ​​​​​​​
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