closed the front gate. The secured enclosure protected Lexi from the horse and the horse from itself during the procedure. Standing to the side, Billy whispered soothing words while gently rubbing Confetti’s muzzle.
“Welcome to your first embryo transfer lesson—so come on back here for a ringside seat.” Amused by Billy’s stunned expression, she continued, “Equine care starts at conception, and there’s more to horses than leg wraps and Coggins reports.” Lexi was pleased at how proficient her protégé had become at aiding her with the standard Equine Infectious Anemia tests and the subsequent paperwork.
A year and a half ago Lexi wouldn’t have considered Billy Stevens for an assistant. After escaping his abusive family, Billy ended up on the wrong side of the law when he and a few so-called friends stole some high-priced guitars from Ackerman’s Music in town. A month in county lockup left him scared straight and completely alone once he was released. Never ones to turn away a person in need, the Langtry family offered him a place to live on the Bridle Dance Ranch in exchange for honest, hard work.
Cole, the oldest of the four Langtry brothers, took a shine to Billy when he noticed his interest in horses ran deeper than a paycheck. Without confidence in himself, Billy didn’t believe he had a future in the veterinary field until Cole pointed him in Lexi’s direction and offered to help finance some college courses this past semester. A natural, Billy instinctively sensed when a horse was even the slightest bit off.
“We’ll be successful today,” Ashleigh assured them.
Billy bashfully squeezed past Ashleigh and the crush. Lexi suspected he had a case of puppy love for her vet tech, but he’d soon come to realize no matter how endearing he might be, Ashleigh wasn’t about to leave her husband for someone seven years her junior.
“Cole,” Lexi said over her shoulder. “Have one of the grooms on standby to bring in Moonglow.”
Before Cole answered, Shane Langtry cleared his throat in the doorway of the breeding area and casually leaned against the jamb.
“I’m headed out to pick up our first official rodeo student.” Shane straightened and strode over to the mare and stroked her cheek. Responding to his gentle touch, she snorted against his hand and bobbed her head.
Dressed in faded jeans and a formfitting, ab-enhancing fitted gray T-shirt, Shane shouldn’t make her breath catch, but damned if he didn’t, even after thirteen years. Lexi may have put his cheating ways in the past, but no one said working near the man responsible for the toughest decision of her life would be easy. Of course, she had the option to start over somewhere else, and she’d done just that for a spell.
After a year at Colorado State, Lexi transferred to Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, where she completed veterinary school and her equine internship. She’d been set to stay in the upstate area, but Joe Langtry’s call six months later with a job offer and the opportunity to branch out on her own was impossible to resist. The Langtry patriarch was a true Southern charmer who had a way with words, and the money sure didn’t hurt, either.
While it was an adjustment from the bone-chilling northern winters, once Lexi moved back to her family’s farm, she knew Ramblewood, Texas, would always be home. Regrets were a waste of time and Lexi wasn’t about to let a moment pass her by. Jumping into the swing of things with her old friends, she learned to adjust to having Shane in her life again, but it wasn’t until his brother Jesse’s wedding last November that she and Shane had started chipping away at the pain of the past. Some memories may have faded, but one still haunted her.
“You’ve been waiting for this day for a long time.” Lexi smiled up at Shane. “I wish you the best.”
Needing to concentrate on Little Miss Confetti, Lexi shifted her attention away from the roguish cowboy. After administering lidocaine to relax the mare’s hindquarters, Ashleigh wrapped its tail in pink, stretchy bandaging and loosely tied it to the crush’s back-gate support.
“Most important—everything must be sterile,” Lexi explained to Billy. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Shane still watching her, making her acutely aware how many people banked on her success today. “We don’t want any unnecessary risk of infection.”
“I still don’t understand,” Billy said. “Why are we using a surrogate if Confetti’s already pregnant?”
“She’s our top cutting-horse competitor,” Cole said. “Eleven months is too long to keep her out of the ring, and then we’d have to retrain and get her endurance levels up to par again. When she’s older and no longer competing, we’ll allow her to carry.”
“Plus we can get two foals from Confetti this year if we use a surrogate.” Lexi had read how some veterinarians were transferring up to six embryos a year from their donor mares by constantly manipulating their heat cycles. She didn’t agree with the practice and was glad the Langtrys were equally opposed to it. She only dared so much when it came to messing around with Mother Nature. “We also use surrogates if there’s an injury and the horse can’t carry to term, or if there are problems due to a previous pregnancy. There are many reasons, but we make sure overbreeding isn’t one of them.”
Billy’s eyes darted between the equipment and the mare. “Will this hurt her?”
“It may feel a little strange to her, but there’s no pain,” Lexi reassured him. “The process goes very quickly. Mystified Moonglow is our surrogate, but we had to prepare more than one mare in case she didn’t ovulate the prerequisite two days after Confetti. The ultrasound shows we’re right on schedule with both horses.”
Ashleigh placed a white tube in Lexi’s free hand. “This is a two-way catheter,” Lexi said, turning her wrist over. “Ashleigh will attach one channel to the embryo flush.”
Carefully inserting the catheter, Lexi inflated the bulb inside Confetti’s cervix to prevent the flush from flowing out while Ashleigh connected the saline solution with long tubing and elevated it on a modified IV stand above Confetti’s backside.
“Embryo collection is always done on day seven or eight after ovulation,” she explained. “At six days, it’s not quite viable, and once we reach the nine-day mark, the embryo is too large and we risk damaging it. Day eight is perfect, and once we know where it is in the petri dish, it will be visible to the naked eye.”
“I hope this works,” Cole said. “What’s the saying, third time’s the charm?”
“It’s also the last,” Lexi stated flatly. If she failed again, she would know this wasn’t meant to be, and she didn’t want to tempt fate.
“This isn’t foolproof. We’re looking at a fifty-to-seventy percent success rate. I’ve always collected them on the second go-round, if we missed the first, but Confetti’s been my problem child.”
Lexi released a small amount of fluid through the tube and into the horse. Opening the switch between the two channels, the solution flowed through the other side of the tubing and into a filter cup that Ashleigh held.
“The trick is to always have some fluid in the cup, never allowing it to drain all the way into the bucket,” Ashleigh added. “We don’t want the embryo to smack hard against the side of the cup on its way out.”
A few minutes later, Lexi removed the catheter and transferred the collection cup to the Langtrys’ lab area. None of her other patients had their own laboratories, but then none of them owned one of the state’s largest paint and quarter cutting horse ranches.
Lexi
