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I followed Fernando to the birthing stalls. A lanky, but fancy bay gelding looked our way.

“Straight from Denmark,” Fernando said as the youngster approached. “He just turned thirty. His full brother just won some big Grand Prix. No clue how Riley managed to meet his owner and land him… some lady from Arlington Heights. He’s beautiful, though.”

I fluffed the gelding’s forelock over the stall door. “Yeah, he is.”

The bay blew a puff of air into my jacket sleeve and chewed on its hem.

“His name is Joe.”

“Just Joe?” I laughed.

“Better than Doobie,” Fernando ribbed.

“Touché, I suppose⁠—”

I stopped mid-sentence as I heard a shuffling in the barn aisle and someone cried out. Then, two women’s voices. After a minute, I spotted a wide-eyed horse racing down the barn aisle, stirrups flapping. Without a second thought, Fernando and I flew into action, trying to contain and calm her. The faster she spun up, the more the stirrups would spook her and the more likelihood she’d get caught up in her reins or a halter on a stall door.

Fernando had the magic touch, somehow able to parlay his time at the track into horse-whispering a hot, spooked young warmblood mare. Nostrils flaring, he grabbed her reins and slowly bring her in. I watched him calm her as I turned my attention back to the shuffle near the large indoor entrance.

I called, “We’ve got the mare! She’s fine!”

There was no response as Fernando caught up, horse in hand. I heard Chloe’s voice.

“I don’t need an ambulance! I’m fine!”

Something made me bolt. She sounded panicked even if she swore she was okay. I raced up, finding Meg sitting on the ground by Chloe as she lay there.

“What happened?” I demanded.

A woman in turquoise breeches winced, “Chloe was holding my mare so I could mount up. As I handed her off, someone dropped a bottle of detangler in the aisle, it exploded, and so did my mare.”

“It was fine,” Chloe protested. “Everyone is acting like I’m going to die. My hands got roughed up, but I’m okay.”

I shook my head. “You know that isn’t the case, Chloe.”

I didn’t completely give it away, but she needed to know how serious it was to have a fall when pregnant. The only solution was to drive her to the hospital.

“What’s the matter?” Fernando asked in Spanish, clearly nervous about Chloe.

“She fell,” I said. “And she needs to go to the hospital.”

“I don’t⁠—”

“You do, Chloe,” I protested. “You do. And you’re going. You know why⁠—”

“I don’t.”

We exchanged steely glances and Fernando’s attention flitted between us.

“Chloe, please listen to Cole,” Meg begged. “It’s important you get checked out and you know why.”

“Why?” Fernando asked. “Are you sick, Chloe?”

“I’m pregnant,” Chloe said. “And he’s probably right.”

Fernando’s eyes widened, but rather than race to her, he turned to me, reading my expression as if he—like Riley—supposed I was involved. Perhaps my reaction reinforced it.

“I’m definitely right,” I said.