“Seems much calmer, too,” Tom added.

“I’ll tell ya, boss,” Tug shrugged, putting the toothpick back in the corner of his mouth. “He’s dang sure the quietest stallion I’ve ever been around. Horses come and go up this alley all the time and he’s just as quiet then as he is right now. He shows interest, but that’s as far as it goes.”

“That was actually my next question,” Tom said. “You think we should geld him?”

“Well, I’ll be honest,” Tug propped his foot on the bottom rail of the gate, “when he first showed up here, I didn’t want this horse on the place at all. When y’all decided to keep him, I didn’t think we could get him gelded fast enough. Last thing I wanted around the place was a mess of half mustang babies. But ya know, the longer he’s here, the more I’m thinkin’ we might want to keep him entire, leastways for a while. Hell, if’n we could get the stamina of the mustang with this guy’s temperament, and cross him with our good mares, why, we’d really have us a nice little remuda to work off of.”

“Really?” Terri smiled. “You like him that much?”

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

Tom and Terri turned and smiled at each other, then turned back to Tug. “So,” Tom said. “You want to just keep him around as a breeding stallion, or do you want to get him broke, too.”

“Oh, I expect we should get him broke, all right,” Tug said flatly. “He’s gotta earn his keep if’n he’s gonna be on the place.”

“How soon before you’ll get around to it, then?” Terri asked.

“Actually, I been givin’ that some thought.” Tug stepped back from the gate and stuffed his hands down in his jacket pockets. “I ain’t so sure I’m the one to start this colt.”

“Why not?” Terri sounded surprised. “You’ve started nearly every colt on the place.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He pulled the toothpick from his mouth again and looked at the ground. He was ashamed to say it, and never would out loud, but he had tried to break a mustang back in his younger days and made a complete mess out of the deal. He had been so hard on the colt he ended up crippling the horse, and hurting himself pretty bad to boot. He told himself then that he’d never start another mustang as long as he lived. So far he had managed to keep that promise, and he intended to not to break it on this horse.

“But this here’s different,” he continued. “These mustangs take a sort a hand like I ain’t got; even one as quiet as this one. He may be quiet but he’s still a wild horse.”

“Who would do it, then?” Terri asked. “Cat? Ben? Not Matt.”

“No ma’am, I don’t believe I’d give him to the boys here. Not that they’re bad hands, you know that. It’s just that, well, he needs somethin’ a little different. He needs someone that understands horses like this.” He put the toothpick back in his mouth. “I reckon if’n it were me, I’d jump him in the trailer and run him on over to Jessie King, near Grant. She’s the best I know of when it comes to critters like this.”