Tuesday seemed like a typical morning for Mike Coolidge.
He was heading south on Nowthen Boulevard to his job in Anoka, eating toast.
But then smoke blew across the road. And as he passed the Nowthen farmhouse where the woman was often outside with her horse, in the dim, early morning light, he saw a glow that filled the front window. Fire.
"I didn't even have time to think," Coolidge recalled Tuesday afternoon. "I just did it."
He pulled into the driveway by the back entrance and pounded on the door, before breaking a window.
Smoke billowed out of the broken pane and around the door's edges. Coolidge opened the door.
Smoke darkened the entryway, but when he looked down, he could see a pair of feet in white socks on the floor, a short distance from where he stood.
"I think she was trying to get out and smoke overcame her," he said. "I basically dropped down to my hands and knees and pulled her out the door."