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The Reporter's Notebook
When our youngest daughter was about 10, we bought her a horse.
A real old cowboy lived about four blocks from us, and I got acquainted with him. His name was Homer.
He lived in a small house on the edge of Bothell and had a two- to three-acre pasture that on occasion was home to a horse or two.
While visiting with him one day, he suggested that I ought to buy Kim a horse. He said he would rent th...
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