"Will there be other people there?" she asked. "I think I'd be ashamed to watch if there were other people around. Isn't that hypocritical of me?"

"I don't know if it's hypocritical or not," Eileen said, "but I came prepared just in case. I've got a spotting telescope here and we can park well away from the lot if you'd rather. There will be some other people there – Hank, my foreman, and the men who own the mares. Come to think of it, you might feel a little out of place around them. I mean, it would be perfectly obvious that we'd come there just to see the mares get fucked."

Eileen had deliberately used the vulgar term, hoping to measure Doreen's reaction, and she scored a success right away. The woman's face flushed brightly and she averted her eyes at the mention of the plain, sturdy verb. Eileen congratulated herself upon having read her guest correctly: Doreen wanted to witness the breeding of a mare simply to excite herself. Evidently she was the kind of woman who found sexual activity exciting to watch, even though it only involved animals. Eileen had witnessed far too many breedings to find any special erotic thrill in it any longer; she associated a breeding with a lot of hard, dusty, sweaty work.

"It might be a little different from what you're expecting," she said as she turned off the main track and took the pickup into rougher country. "A stallion isn't always as horny as a man; sometimes he has to be coaxed into doing his work."

Doreen wanted to know what she meant but Eileen refused to explain, saying that she would see soon enough for herself. They clattered along over progressively rougher country and finally came to a halt. Eileen got out, bringing her spotting scope – Jack, Sr. had used it for target practice and hunting – and its tripod, and led Doreen into a thick clump of junipers crowning a low ridge.