Aidan: Loyal Cowboy. Cathy Mcdavid
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why your mom’s worried,” Duke said thoughtfully. “For a while there we all thought you and Flynn were going to hook up.”
“That was years ago.” Duke was one of the few people who knew Ace and Flynn had dated.
“I’m talking last month.” Duke slanted Ace a bemused smile. “We saw you and her leaving the Number 1.”
Ace abruptly sat up, then slumped against the seat, afraid of giving himself away. “We?”
“Dad, Beau and I.”
Both his cousins and his uncle?
“Royce, Harlan and Gracie were there, too.”
Three of the Harts’ ranch hands? Great. Ace and Flynn might as well have taken an ad out in the Roundup Record Tribune.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Which was not the same as saying nothing happened, and Duke probably picked up on the subtle difference.
“Your business.”
Duke respected Ace’s wishes for the remainder of the drive to Thunder Ranch, avoiding the topic of Flynn and Ace even when his mother brought Flynn up over dinner at the truck stop.
Ace was never so glad to see the exit for home.
They drove the mile-long driveway into Thunder Ranch, past the main house with its rustic charm and fieldstone wall to the various outbuildings, one of them a newly constructed mare motel. Luckily they beat the snow, which started falling in earnest the minute they pulled up in front of the horse barn.
“It’s too late and too cold.” Ace reached behind the seat and retrieved his and Duke’s yellow all-weather ponchos. “Let’s just put the mares and geldings in the west paddock for tonight. We can move them tomorrow if there’s a break in the weather.”
“And Midnight?”
“The clinic.”
Ace had constructed a pair of shaded corrals behind the horse barn, which also contained a small office he used for his vet practice. The corrals were for quarantining sick or injured animals while he treated them. It wasn’t an ideal location for Midnight, but it would suffice until the construction of his stud quarters was completed.
Duke braked to a stop, letting Ace out long enough to dash through the snow and relay their plans to his uncle in the other truck.
“Meet you at the paddock with the rest of the horses once we’ve unloaded Midnight,” he told his uncle.
“You going to need some help?”
“We can handle it.”
Ace returned to the truck. Midnight, impatient to get out, had begun kicking the trailer wall. He was still creating a ruckus while Duke backed the trailer to the corral gate. If all went as intended, the horse would go right from the trailer to the corral without incident.
Turning on an overhead floodlight, Ace positioned himself at the trailer door. Duke reached through the open slats and unfastened Midnight’s lead rope from where it was tied.
The horse stood perfectly still.
Ace wasn’t fooled. When he sensed the moment was right, he opened the trailer door.
“Welcome home, boy.”
The horse flicked his ears and cranked his big head around, calmly assessing his new surroundings.
“I think he’ll be okay,” Ace told Duke confidently after several uneventful seconds. “Now that we’re away from the auction and that livestock foreman.”
“Yeah, okay. If you say so.”
Before Ace could reply, Midnight flung himself sideways out of the trailer, landing with a wet thud on the ground. Ace and Duke tripped over their feet attempting to escape danger. Midnight catapulted into the corral. Running and bucking—oh, man, could that horse buck—he circled the corral a few times before coming to a stop.
“Duke! Are you all right?” Ace slammed the corral gate shut, then ran to his cousin, who leaned awkwardly against the trailer wheel well.
“I’m fine.” He cradled his left elbow close to his body.
“Here.” Ace gripped his cousin’s forearm and gently manipulated the affected joint. “Does that hurt?”
“Hell, yes.”
“Hurt like you fractured it?”
“Naw. Nothing a little ice, aspirin and a cold beer won’t fix.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault. Is Midnight okay?”
“Him? That horse is made of solid steel. You going to be able to work tomorrow?”
“Shoot, I’m tougher than that.” Duke served part-time as one of Roundup’s deputies under the recently elected sheriff—none other than Ace’s sister, Dinah. “It’s you I’m worried about.”
“I didn’t get hurt.”
“I mean your investment.” He hitched his chin at the corral. “You and your mom have a lot on the line.”
They did. Ace believed in his mother’s vision, which was that a secure future lay in their bucking stock contracting operation. To that end, she’d taken out a three-hundred thousand dollar loan, which he’d cosigned.
If they didn’t succeed, Ace could potentially lose his vet practice.
He’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much, for that to happen.
“I’ll drive the mares to the paddock,” he said.
“Forget it. I’ll meet Dad with the mares. You stay here and settle Midnight in.”
“Are you positive?”
Duke’s response was to head for the cab of the truck.
Ace shut the trailer door. After his cousin drove off, he retrieved two flakes of hay from the small stack he kept by the corral and tossed them in the feeder. Midnight started eating immediately, happy as a pig with his slop.
“I should have counted on you doing something crazy,” Ace muttered, disappointed with himself. When it came to horses, his instincts were usually right on the mark.
Midnight stopped eating long enough to give Ace a you-just-met-your-match look.
Yeah, he had.
Most stallions were unpredictable to some degree, as were many bucking horses. Midnight, as Ace was quickly realizing, verged on unmanageable.
What had happened to this fine animal in the past two years to so dramatically alter his personality?
Duke wasn’t the only one worried. Ace couldn’t help wondering if he and his mother had made a mistake, paid a small fortune in a stud horse they couldn’t handle and didn’t dare put with their mares on the chance he’d injure them.
* * *
FLYNN STARED AT THE PREGNANCY test wand. Just how reliable were these things?
Pretty accurate, she knew from working at the emergency clinic.
She could always go to the clinic, have the doctor administer a second test in order to confirm, but why? Her body had been telling her for days what the test wand in her hand confirmed: Flynn was having a baby.
She’d become, she realized with a sigh, a statistic. One night of lovemaking, and she’d gotten pregnant. What were the odds?
Considerably greater than with a couple who actually practiced birth control.
Flynn was no idiot; heck, she worked in the medical profession and witnessed the results of unprotected sex on a weekly basis. She could offer excuses. More than once she’d forgotten to take her birth control pill and hadn’t gotten pregnant. Her night with Ace