The Sapphire Brooch Katherine Logan (best beach reads TXT) 📖

twenty months. Now he’s almost three. Come on. If I miss this big event, I’m good as dead.”

They hurried out of the house with Braham shaking his head. They reached the paddock just as the trainer lined James Cullen up to jump a beam on the ground. Meredith sat on the top rung of the fence, softly hissing. Elliott put his arm around, patting her hip gently. “How’s he doing?”

“He’s fearless. But his mother is not.”

“Did ye double-check the harness?”

“And the helmet,” she said, gripping the fence rail. “No cracks.”

“Ye should have bought a new one. The one he’s wearing could have a hairline crack.”

She looked down her nose at him. “I went over the dang thing with a magnifying glass. It’s fine.”

Braham rested his foot on the bottom fence rail, noticing Meredith’s knuckles were white. He chuckled. Although projecting calm, she was still anxious. So much like Kit.

Elliott entered the paddock and leaned against the fence, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other at the ankles. His posture was relaxed, but his lips were pulled tight between his teeth.

“The first time I saw Kit ride, she was racing Stormy at Fort Laramie. She was riding up over his neck. I didn’t think she could possibly keep her seat. Best damn race I’ve ever seen. Unconventional, but typical Kit,” Braham said.

“Elliott raised her, you’re her cousin, and I’m her six-times-great-granddaughter. When you see her again, will you tell her about Elliott and me and little James Cullen?”

Braham gave her a lopsided smile, reflecting his anxiety. “Do ye think I will?”

“What? See her again?” Meredith gave him a closed-lip smile which signaled to Braham she knew something but wasn’t comfortable sharing it. “Elliott knows Kit loves you, and he would do anything for her. What do you think?”

Braham breathed a bit easier. It was what he’d been counting on.

James Cullen’s pony walked over the jump and everyone clapped. Kevin led the pony to Elliott, who unbuckled his son. “Who’s my winning jockey today?”

“I am, Daddy. Can I ride Stormy now?”

Elliott hugged him. “Not today, but soon.”

Meredith jumped off the fence and took her son out of Elliott’s arms, removing the helmet. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Did I jump my horse like you do, Mommy?”

She kissed his cheek. “You sure did. Are you ready for a snack?”

He licked his lips. “I want a cupcake.”

“Maybe after dinner.”

“When we celebrate my ’complishment?” Elliott traded James Cullen’s helmet for a miniature MacKlenna Farm cap, and the lad straightened it on his head exactly as Braham had seen Elliott do earlier.

Elliott laughed and tugged on the cap’s bill. “Sure, we’ll celebrate yer accomplishment.”

Although Braham was godfather to Kit’s children and loved them dearly, he hadn’t given much thought to having any of his own, but seeing Elliott with his son reminded Braham of his own father and the love they had shared. Maybe after the war he’d look for a wife, have children, and teach his son to ride a pony.

“If James Cullen is anything like Kit, ye won’t keep him on a pony for long. He’ll be champing the bit for a bigger, faster horse.”

“Which will be his mother’s decision,” Elliott said. “I won round one when he got to ride at twenty months. She gets to decide when the lad can graduate to a bigger mount.”

“Kit and Cullen’s biggest arguments have been over similar issues. They’re learning the art of compromise.”

Elliott threw back his head and laughed. “Cullen must be teaching her the art, because she certainly didn’t learn it from her father or me.” He picked up his son’s helmet. “Let’s go over to the stallion barn. Stormy’s covering a mare at two o’clock.”

They walked along an interior road lined with overlapping trees that formed a fall-colored canopy. Braham reflected on the quiet serenity around him. No guns. No cannon fire. No screaming soldiers. Yet in a matter of hours, if Elliott did what Meredith had predicted he would do, Braham would return to the war. It would only last a few more months, and then he could return to California, to his law practice, his vineyards, and his life.

Elliott interrupted Braham’s thoughts. “Stormy’s first yearlings will sell in February. Since he doesn’t have any winnings or successful offspring, we’re all but giving away breeding rights this season. Next year should be better. With his pedigree, he’s bound to produce Grade One stakes winners.”

“How many live covers will he do this year?” Braham asked.

“He has a book of two hundred,” Elliott said.

“Kit has explained how things are done now in the breeding business. It’s more complicated.”

“A lot of money is at stake.”

When Braham entered the dark, oak-paneled stallion complex, he gave a low whistle so as to not startle the horses. “These stallions live better than the majority of the people in the nineteenth century.”

There were six stalls with brass nameplates hanging on each. A brick floor and a cupola gave the barn a fit-for-a-king appearance.

A handler dressed in heavy boots led Stormy into a larger room with a rubber floor.

“Stormy is a few pounds heavier than the last time I saw him.”

“He lost a wee bit of weight during Kit’s journey.”

A mare restrained with a twitch waited for the stallion, the swathe of her tail held high, signaling her readiness. Stormy approached at an angle several feet from her nearside, instinctively avoiding startling her and causing her to kick out. He was fully erect. His handler allowed him to mount the mare. The mare lurched forward, but not far enough to put stress on the stallion’s great muscles, already tense and straining in the act of mating. He signaled ejaculation by flagging his tail. A handler was ready with a bucket to catch the spillage as the stallion withdrew. From start to finish, it only took moments. Once the cover was complete, Elliott led Braham into a side room.

“They’ll examine the semen under a microscope to confirm viable sperm,” Elliott said. They stood out of the way, waiting patiently until the