“It’s perfect,” Emily breathed. She reached down to pat Romulus on the neck. “Do you hear that, boy? We’re going to start a legacy.”
“Emily, they’re geldings,” Stanton reminded her. “You’re going to have to learn a few things if we’re going to breed horses.”
“I may not know about breeding horses,
Will
,” Emily said, “but I know all about creating legacies. Now, before the broad sun sinks down any farther in its tranquillity, I suggest we ride down and get started.”
Stanton arched an eyebrow. “Unless I’m pleasantly mistaken, we’ve already done that, haven’t we?”
Emily smiled secretly, the sensitive fingers of her right hand tingling over her belly. Her fingers felt the future, the roar of muddy boy-feet, the promises there.
“Indeed we have,” she said, clucking to Romulus and urging him down the hill in a joyful, flying canter.