LITMIR.BIZ

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stuck in neutral, Flynn saw no reason to postpone having the children she’d always wanted. Her ex-husband adamantly refused, and Flynn was forced to let another dream go unfulfilled.

      Her discontent increased when her older sister, Nora, a pharmacist, married a great guy and promptly bore the first of Flynn’s two nephews. How was it her sister seemed to effortlessly attain everything Flynn wanted?

      If her father retired, there’d be opportunities. She’d been considering them for weeks with great deliberation. More since she lost her head and slept with Ace.

      His abrupt departure had hurt, but it also drove home the point that the time had come and gone for her to let the past go and move forward.

      The idea of returning to school appealed to her the most, but it would be next to impossible without moving from Roundup.

      A rumbling from the crowd caused Flynn’s head to snap up. Midnight was being led into the ring. No, dragged into the ring, by two wranglers. With all four hooves digging into the muddy dirt, the horse lowered his hindquarters almost to the ground and resisted the tug from the two lead ropes connected to his halter. A third man, the livestock foreman hired by Wally Dunlap’s heirs, followed behind. He held a buggy whip and flicked it in the air behind Midnight, the snapping sound intended to encourage the horse.

      It didn’t. Midnight bore down harder.

      Flynn wanted to shout a protest. She wasn’t alone. Ace sprang to his feet, an angry scowl on his face, his flyer crushed between his fingers.

      Just when she thought he might leap across six bleacher rows and over the ring fence, the horse went suddenly still and straightened. The wranglers must have decided to quit while they were ahead because they abandoned their efforts and stood, the lead ropes stretched taut.

      Midnight ignored them. Raising his head, he stared proudly and defiantly at the audience. His mane and forelock fluttered in the same chilly breeze that snuck up the back of Flynn’s neck and caused her to shiver.

      Or was the horse himself responsible for her reaction?

      Up until this moment, she hadn’t understood the fuss. Sure, Midnight was good-looking, with quality bloodlines and a proven history as a champion bucking horse and sire. But there were lots of stallions like him for sale these days.

      Seeing Midnight in the ring, however, she glimpsed the greatness in him that had excited her father and Ace and everyone else at the auction.

      “Isn’t he something?”

      “Are you sure about this, Dad?”

      “I don’t want Ace and Sarah to have him.”

      “Please don’t turn this into a competition with them.”

      Her words fell on deaf ears. The auctioneer’s singsong litany had started.

      “What do you say? Let’s start the bidding at twenty thousand dollars. Do I have twenty thousand?”

      As if on cue, people inched forward in their seats, Flynn and her father included.

      “Fifteen, do I hear fifteen?”

      When the auctioneer dropped to five thousand dollars, the bidding took off. Her father didn’t join in until the going price reached ten thousand dollars. Ace refrained, Flynn noticed, his attention riveted on the horse.

      Her father’s hand continually went up as he outbid everyone. When the price reached twenty-seven thousand dollars, only her father and one other man remained.

      Flynn began to worry in earnest. Did her father have that kind of money?

      “Twenty-seven, twenty-seven, someone give me twenty-eight thousand?” the auctioneer intoned.

      “Twenty-seven, five.”

      Every head in the stands turned toward the sound of a new voice. It belonged to Ace.

      “Dammit,” Flynn’s father groused beneath his breath and raised his hand again. “Twenty-eight.”

      “Twenty-nine.” This from the other man.

      With Ace’s participation, the price was quickly driven up to thirty-five thousand dollars, her father making the last bid.

      Flynn went from worrying to panicking. Surely he couldn’t raise that much money. He was letting the excitement of the bidding cloud his judgment.

      “Dad, don’t be foolish.”

      “I want that horse.”

      “We’ll buy another horse.” A less expensive one.

      “None of them are like Midnight.”

      Evidently Ace felt the same, for he shouted, “Thirty-six thousand dollars.”

      The other man promptly resigned with a discouraged head shake. “Too rich for my blood.”

      That left Ace and Flynn’s father.

      How was this possible? The two men she cared most for in the whole world were fighting over a stupid horse.

      Wait a minute, she didn’t care about Ace.

      Right.

      If someone ever invented a cure for unrequited love, she’d be the first in line to try it.

      “Thirty-seven thousand,” her father shouted.

      The crowd clapped and cheered. Easy for them, Flynn thought, it wasn’t their life’s savings on the line.

      “This is insane,” she hissed. “You don’t have thirty-seven thousand dollars.”

      “There’s my line of credit with the bank.”

      “That’s for running the business!”

      “Buying a bucking horse is business.”

      “No, this is an absurd rivalry and refusing to let the Harts get one up on you. What’s the matter with you? You don’t act like this.”

      For a moment, time froze. Then his face fell, and he groaned miserably. “Oh, God. What’s wrong with me?”

      She reached for his hand and squeezed it between hers, relief leaving her weak.

      “I don’t know what came over me. It’s just…” He groaned again.

      “I have thirty-seven thousand dollars,” the auctioneer boomed. “Do I have thirty-eight?”

      Ace and his mother bent their heads together and conferred behind the shield of their hands.

      “Going once.”

      Flynn went rigid. Why wasn’t Ace bidding?

      “Going twice.”

      Oh, no! What if the Harts dropped out?

      Easy. Her father would have purchased a horse he really didn’t need for a sum of money he couldn’t possibly afford.

      This couldn’t be happening!

      “Thirty-eight thousand,” Ace shouted.

      Flynn’s heart started beating again.

      When the auctioneer finally called, “Sold to number fifty-seven,” a minute later, she let herself breathe.

      The auction was over, and her father had spent no more than the price of gas for a round-trip.

      Why, then, did he appear glum?

      “Dad, you okay?” All around them the bleachers had started to empty, yet her father didn’t rise.

      “Yeah, sure.”

      “Is your indigestion bothering you again?”

      “I’m fine.” He promptly pushed to his feet and extended a hand to her. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

      Flynn couldn’t be more ready and happily dropped the

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