Page 4 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

Uncrossing my arms, I reached into my left pocket and snagged a sugar cube. I held it out to the horse, the pale cube flat on my palm.

"Come on, boy. We both know you're going to take it eventually."

Mystery regarded the offering with imperial disdain, as if accepting treats from humans was beneath his dignity. Finally, after making me stand there long enough to prove who was really in charge, he stretched his neck forward and delicately plucked the sugar from my hand with velvet lips.

"There's a good boy," I murmured, risking a gentle stroke down his muscled neck. He tolerated the touch, which I counted as progress. In the past, he would have sidestepped away, doing all he could to avoid contact.

I moved around his stall, checking his water bucket—still half full and clean—and running my hands down each of his legs, feeling for any heat or swelling. Despite his difficult personality, Mystery was worth every penny I'd spent on him. His bloodlines were impeccable, his conformation perfect. If I could get him to breed with Sassafras, their foal would be worth a small fortune.

"You know, for a horse who acts like he's too good for everyone, you sure keep a messy room." I grabbed a pitchfork and began cleaning his stall, removing soiled straw and replacing it with fresh bedding from the nearby pile. Mystery watched with detached interest, occasionally nudging my shoulder when I wasn't moving fast enough for his liking.

"Some of us have opposable thumbs and have to do all the work around here," I told him, ducking under his neck to reach a corner. "The least you could do is show some gratitude."

Once Mystery's accommodations were refreshed, I latched his stall and moved down the aisle to where Sassafras waited impatiently. In the beginning, I’d had them side-by-side in adjacent stalls. They’d both kept putting their heads over the gates, trying to nip at one another. Then I’d moved Sassy to the stall directly opposite of Mystery’s. Well… they’d bickered like an old married couple, minus the history of being happy once upon a time.

Whereas Mystery was all cool reserve and judgment, Sassafras was a bundle of nervous energy and neediness.

"Hey, Sassy girl," I called softly as I approached.

The chestnut mare whinnied in greeting, trotting in anxious circles around her stall before pressing her nose against the bars. Her white blaze caught the light streaming through the high stable windows, and her eyes—warm and liquid—followed my every movement with desperate attention.

"Someone's worked up this morning," I said, opening her stall. Unlike with Mystery, I didn't have to coax Sassafras to approach. She practically bulldozed into me, nuzzling my pockets for treats and pressing her head against my chest. "Easy, girl. I've got you."

I stroked her neck, feeling the nervous energy thrumming through her body. Sassafras had been a bargain purchase too—a Selle Français with excellent bloodlines but a tendency toward anxiety that made her unpredictable in the show ring. Her original owners had campaigned her over fences for three seasons before cutting their losses.

Here at Sunflower Hills, away from the chaos of the show circuit, she’d calmed considerably. As long as she wasn’t around Mystery, Sassy was a doll.

"What is it about him that gets you so worked up? And not in the good way." I asked, frowning and running my fingers through her mane, working out the tangles. "He's handsome. Good bones. Nice teeth. Granted, his personality leaves much to be desired, but you're not exactly marrying the guy. Just think of it as a good time, not a long time.”

Sassafras tossed her head and pawed at the ground, as if the mere mention of Mystery offended her delicate sensibilities. I sighed, glancing at the large, full year calendar pinned to the stable wall beside her stall. Red X's marked each failed attempt to bring the horses together for breeding—dozens of them, spanning months. The current date was circled in red, with "ATTEMPT ONE MILLION" written in capital letters that revealed my increasing desperation.

I walked over to the calendar, fingering the worn edges of the paper. Each painful X represented another day closer to financial ruin. The bank had given me a six-month extension on my loan, but that grace period was rapidly disappearing. Without a foal from this pairing, Sunflower Hills Ranch would be just another failed dream.

"We're running out of time, Sass," I whispered, turning back to the mare who was now happily munching on a flake of hay I'd tossed into her feeder. "Do you understand that? No foal, no farm."

I leaned against the stall door, my mind calculating costs like a particularly depressing calculator. Feed for two horses ran about five hundred a month. Vet bills, another few hundred if everyone stayed healthy. The mortgage payment was due in three weeks—fifteen hundred dollars I didn't have. Then there were utilities, insurance, property taxes...

My chest tightened with familiar anxiety. When I'd left Derek, I'd been so certain I could make this work. I knew horses, knew breeding. What I hadn't counted on was two equines with personality conflicts that rivaled the worst human divorces.

"Come on, girl," I whispered, returning to Sassafras and pressing my forehead against hers. "You've got to like him eventually. My whole future depends on it. Our future." I stroked her soft muzzle. "I know he's a bit of a jerk, but look at those legs, that chest. Your babies would be gorgeous. Worth every penny."

Sassafras nuzzled my hand, seemingly sympathetic to my plight but unconvinced by my matchmaking efforts. I couldn't blame her. Mystery wasn't exactly Prince Charming in the personality department. But in the horse world, bloodlines trumped congeniality every time.

I gave Sassafras a final pat and stepped out of her stall, latching it securely behind me. "Attempt number fifteen coming up after lunch," I informed her. "Try to keep an open mind."

The mare snorted in response, turning her back to me in a display of pure equine sass. I rubbed my temples, feeling the beginning of a stress headache forming behind my eyes.

"Fine, be that way," I muttered. "But one of these days, you're going to have to decide what's more important—your dislike of Mystery or having a roof over your head. Because trust me, if the bank takes this place, neither of us is going to like the alternatives."

The only answer was the soft sound of hay being chewed and the distant whicker of Mystery from his stall, as if he was eavesdropping on our conversation and finding it all terribly amusing. Horses, like ex-fiancées, had a talent for making difficult situations even more complicated.

The afternoon sun beat down on the paddock, turning the Kansas air into a tangible weight against my skin. I led Mystery from his stall with a mixture of sweet talk and gentle coaxing that I'd perfected over our months together. He followed with the reluctant dignity of royalty being paraded before commoners, his hooves striking the ground with measured precision. Sassafras, already in the paddock, paced the perimeter with increasing agitation, her chestnut coat gleaming with sweat that had nothing to do with the heat.

"Easy, girl," I called to her as I approached the gate. "Look who's coming to see you."

Sassafras responded by pinning her ears flat against her head and trotting to the farthest corner of the enclosure. Real encouraging.

Mystery, sensing the mare's hostility, lifted his head higher, nostrils flaring. I could almost see his thought process: If she's going to act like I have the equine plague, I'll double down on the arrogance.