stringent guidelines for their breeding program. An established routine and contained environment were both essential components of that program.
“How’s Flynn?” His mother asked the question daily.
“Working too hard.”
“At the clinic?”
“And for her dad. I wish she’d take it easier.”
“Flynn’s always been a go-getter. Has she had any luck enrolling in nursing school?”
“Not that she’s mentioned.”
After their disagreement last week, Ace and Flynn were back to communicating mostly by phone. He didn’t pressure her, but she could only put him off so long. Her next doctor’s appointment was in less than two weeks, and he would be there with her.
“Do you think she and Earl would come to Sunday brunch if I invited them?”
“You can ask.” Ace liked the suggestion. Refusing his mother would be much harder than refusing him.
“She still resisting your charms?”
“Hard to believe, I know.”
“Not that it’s my business, but has it occurred to you that marrying her might not be the best idea?”
“What? I thought you were gung ho about all us kids being married first.”
“That would be best, ideally. But I’m concerned if you somehow convince Flynn to marry you, you’ll wind up alienating her.”
“I’ve already promised her I’d try and cut back on work.”
“I’m not talking about work. I’m talking about love. Flynn is a romantic. She isn’t interested in marrying because it makes sense or is the right thing to do.”
Ace was still digesting what his mother said when a loud banging came from the direction of Midnight’s quarters.
“Everything okay?” Ace hollered.
“We’re good.” Gracie’s confident reply carried down the corridor.
“Aidan,” his mother said. “She needs help.”
“Gracie knows what she’s doing.”
Like him, his mother was nervous.
He debated going to investigate, prepared to step in at the first sign of trouble. But he’d rather not agitate Midnight if at all possible. They had a lot riding on today’s outcome.
After double-checking Miss Kitty’s lead rope, he craned his head to peer down the corridor.
What was the holdup?
He absently patted the mare, a rangy bay that had once been part of Wally Dunlap’s string. She flicked her ears, her only sign of anticipation. None of this was new to her, she’d already borne two foals by Midnight. She was also fully in heat and receptive.
All things considered, she made a perfect candidate.
It was Ace’s hope Midnight would get the job done without a fuss and without caring who else was in the breeding area with him.
A clattering of hooves on the concrete floor accompanied a high-pitched squeal. Midnight and Gracie promptly burst into the breeding shed, a whirlwind of raw energy.
“Easy now.” She gripped the stud chain firmly in both hands, but the horse was clearly in the driver’s seat.
The instant Midnight spied Miss Kitty, he dialed into her. Prancing, snorting, his nostrils flaring, he showed off for her.
She did what came naturally, what her instincts dictated, and raised her tail.
Midnight went into a frenzy.
“Whoa, boy!” Gracie tugged, barely hung on.
Ace didn’t think, he reacted. “Mom, get back!” He pushed his mother aside, then grabbed the stud chain from Gracie’s hands.
Midnight tossed his head and ripped the chain from Ace’s grasp. He had only one thing on his mind: Miss Kitty.
“Watch out!” Ace motioned for Gracie to stay back. It was too dangerous intervening at this point. Better to let nature take its course and hope for the best.
It was over within a minute. Midnight abandoned Miss Kitty, his interest waned.
When Ace reached for the stud chain, the horse did an about-face. Huffing, he raced back down the corridor to his quarters.
Gracie started after him.
“Leave him,” Ace ordered, angry at himself more than the horse. “He can’t go anywhere.” He turned to his mother. “You all right?”
She stepped forward, several shades paler than normal. “Well, that didn’t go as planned.”
Ace went over to inspect Miss Kitty, unhappy with what he saw. She’d suffered minor lacerations on her back and flanks, the result of Midnight’s steel shoes. Luckily for all of them, she was familiar with Midnight and the breeding process. A different mare, and the results could have been disastrous.
“I think maybe we should sell him.” Ace’s mother watched over his shoulder as he cleansed and treated Miss Kitty’s wounds.
“You could be right.”
Gracie looked ready to cry.
“None of this is your fault,” he assured her.
She sniffed. “I’ll go shut his stall door.”
Ace packed up his medical case, silently berating himself. He’d rushed. Midnight wasn’t ready.
“None of this is your fault, either.” His mother patted his arm.
“Yeah? I’m the one who insisted on buying him.”
“And I supported you.”
Gracie returned, relief evident on her face.
“How is he?”
“Sweet as a lamb. All in a day’s work to him.”
Ace wasn’t fooled. The good horse act wouldn’t last.
He untied Miss Kitty’s lead rope and handed it to Gracie. “Take her to my clinic.”
“Wait, Gracie, I’ll walk with you,” his mother said. “I have some contracts in my office to sign and ship.” She glanced over her shoulder at Ace. “You coming?”
He shook his head. “I’ll catch up with you later.”
He traveled the connecting corridor to Midnight’s stall, observing the horse for several long moments. Midnight observed Ace in return, the same intelligent look in his eyes Ace had witnessed that day at the auction.
“You’re going to have to do better next time,” he said, realizing he wasn’t ready to sell the horse.
Midnight lowered his head to the stall floor and blew lustily, shooting a cloud of the dry bedding into the air.
Stallions were typically a handful, but they could be taught manners. Midnight needed to learn some, or relearn them in his case.
“What happened to you after Wally got sick?”
Midnight snorted and stared inquisitively at Ace, all traces of fight and flightiness gone.
Was being bred to Miss Kitty or something else responsible for the difference?
An idea came to Ace. He jumped into his Polaris and drove to his office at the clinic. There, he made a phone call to Wally Dunlap’s son, glad to reach the man on his first attempt, and identified himself as the new owner of Midnight.
“Can you tell me something about him?” he asked.
“Like what?”
“His