Page 107 of Iron Unicorn

“Glad to help, Terry. I’ll admit, I was right confused when Willow started acting up. He’s never done that before, not even when you get yourself into trouble.”

“I was getting a talent evaluation using suppressors designed to restrict horse empathy. My other suppressors have larger leaks.” After giving Willow another pat, I went to Wes, shook hands, and exchanged hugs with him. “I’d be sorry about stealing him back, but he’s coming to New York with me. Did you bring his vetting records?”

“I sure did, and he had a rather pricy vet visit two weeks ago. And no, you’re not on the hook for the bill. The RPS paid for it as part of what you’re owed for allowing us to breed him as you do.”

Damn it. “What happened?”

“The vets wanted to try some restorative work on senior horses. I’ve got a brand new saddle and bridle in the trailer, and he’d very much appreciate a ride. He’s cleared for light work. Fence rides, pleasure rides, and so on. You could even ride him to Dallas if you wanted. We’ve been conditioning him with heavy grain sacks because we know better than to try anyone on his back. He’ll need you to remind him of his manners under saddle, but we’ve worked out most of the kinks for you already. We were going to surprise you next time you were in town.”

My mouth dropped open, and after spluttering, I said, “Are you serious?”

Wes grinned, returned to the trailer, and opened the side door to unload a saddle with a saddle blanket underneath, so new the leather hadn’t been scuffed yet. Without even a hint of worry, he hauled it over. Aware he’d try to fling the whole lot on Willow’s back, I snagged the blanket and smoothed it out before taking the saddle, thanking him, and doing the work myself.

Wes went off to retrieve a bridle, which was also new. After a moment, I realized it was a hackamore, lacking a bit.

I approved and slipped it over Willow’s head, praising the stallion before getting my ass into the saddle where it belonged.

“Try out his paces so I can take pictures and send them to Will. He knew Willow was booked for the treatment.” Wes stepped back and joined the princess, grinning at me. “We haven’t informed the king yet. But I’ve got another present for you in the trailer, and you’ll love her. I figured if I was bringing him along, I’d bring you one of Willow’s favorite ladies. Consider her a gift from the RPS. She’s bred, and we installed her foal alarm before loading her onto the plane. And before you worry, we had a vet and a horse empath on the flight in case we had a surprise arrival. We were worried your old man would stress without any of his mares around, and she’s his favorite.”

I could see Willow having a problem with being separated from his herd, the reason he’d stayed in Montana while I had moved on. “I really appreciate that, Wes. The mare had no problems on the flight?”

“She loves to travel, so she’s having herself a great day. I’ll get her into the stable so we can monitor until she drops her foal. Half the time, Willow’s standing guard when his mares drop their foals, so I recommend you keep him on hand. Stand him outside the open stall door so he can observe. He’s an old hand at helping to raise his babies, and we’ve found that his mares are less stressed when he’s standing guard. He won’t bother you or the vets when she’s delivering, and he’ll attend to her, help clean the foal, and protect them both. We noticed the behavior when we had a mare out in the field and drop her foal early. The little one had some complications, and he came to get us. We’ve learned a lot about horse behavior when we’re not interfering because of him. Sometimes, this backfires. If we lose mare or foal, he takes it pretty hard.”

Poor Willow. I praised the stallion, and aware we hadn’t gone on a ride in a hell of a long time, I gave him free rein and a nudge to see what he’d do. He surged forward as though he were far younger. I guided him with my legs, circling him around the yard for several passes while Wes led a pale mare towards the stable. To give Olivia a taste of the tricks Willow had used to know, I gave him a cue to cut like we would if she were a calf we wished to separate from the herd. He did as I wanted, and the princess played the game, darting back and forth, giving us a chance to test rusty skills.

The princess failed to escape us, not that she put in an earnest effort.

I reined Willow in, praised him again, and slid off his back. “We’ll go on a ride before bed tonight.”

The stallion tossed his head and flapped his lips.

Wes returned, looked me over, and said, “Now that they’re evaluating you properly, how many are you possibly bonded with?”

“Four,” I replied, and I gestured for him to follow me back to the barn. Upon arrival, the stablehand pointed at an empty stall, which had a handwritten sign stating it belonged to Willow. I stripped him of the saddle, placed his gear where directed, and gave him a sugar cube along with a hefty dose of praise before heading to Trouble’s stall. “I’ve been told she’s a Cleveland Bay, Wes, and her colt is from a pre-war stud. I got them out of a slaughter pen.”

The stable master chuckled when the mare squealed and charged at the stall door to discourage the man from getting close to her baby. “She’s going to turn your barn upside down on you. How is the colt’s temperament?”

“He’s an angel, and I hope he stays an angel. Unless there’s a genetic test that shows faults, I can’t geld him, not with his breed so endangered—and not with them having gotten a successful breeding out of pre-war semen. Olivia is the one who looked into it.”

The princess grinned and waved at Wes. “I bought weanlings.”

“You’re a menace,” the stable master informed her.

I laughed, gave Trouble a petting, and headed to my Standardbred’s stall. As promised, a farrier had come to start treatments on her hooves, something the auction barn hadn’t done yet. Fortunately for my peace of mind, the auction barn hadn’t had them long. As she needed to be walked to rebuild her strength, I grabbed her halter and lead line and began the process of coaxing her out of her stall. “I haven’t named her yet, but she’s the worst of the lot of the soring cases. She was stacked, and it looks like she may have been performing. I’d guess early in her career. She could be a lot worse off.”

Once I had her in the aisle, Wes looked her over and nodded his agreement. “Well, she won’t be making a walk to Dallas in that condition. Willow will forgive you eventually for not taking a lengthy trail ride across Texas.”

Eventually. I chuckled and headed for the grullo next. “And here’s my grullo.”

Wes snorted. “I’d bet on an amber champagne, but I can see why you’d think she’s a grullo. The color is off for grullo, which points at an amber champagne. You’ll know for certain with a DNA test.”

“She’s being tested, but I don’t have the results back yet. The vet said she was tossing in the color test.”

“Vet probably wasn’t sure if grullo or amber champagne, and in that case, better to go with the more common color. She’s a looker. How much did you get her for?”

“Fifteen thousand as a buyout from the auction house.”

“That’s highway robbery. You got away with literal highway robbery. There is no way you got a yearling of this quality for only fifteen thousand. I’d be charging forty untrained with her conformation and coloration.”

---