Page 9 of Roping Her Alien Ranchers

"Tammy! How are those horses of yours doing?" Dr. Harmon's voice boomed through the receiver, jolting me back to the present.

"That's actually why I'm calling, Doc." I sighed, leaning against the counter. "Mystery and Sassafras still won't... cooperate. I'm running out of time and options here. I need to know more about artificial insemination."

"Ah," he said, his tone shifting from jovial to professional. "I was wondering when we'd have this conversation. Those two didn't seem particularly fond of each other when I was out for their check-ups."

"That's putting it mildly," I muttered. "It's like trying to set up my vegetarian cousin with a butcher. They're fundamentally incompatible, but I need them to make a baby anyway."

Dr. Harmon chuckled. "Well, AI can certainly bypass the personality conflicts. Let me walk you through the process and costs."

I grabbed a pen and the back of an overdue electric bill to take notes. "Shoot."

"First, we need to collect from Mystery. The collection procedure alone is three-fifty."

I winced, scribbling down the number. That was already more than I'd budgeted for the month's feed.

"That includes sedation?" I asked, hoping to find a corner to cut.

"Some stallions need it, some don't. Won't know with Mystery until we try, but I'd recommend budgeting for it just in case. From my limited experience with him, I’d say he's... particular."

"That's one way to put it," I said dryly. "What else?"

"Then we've got handling fees—about a hundred. That covers the processing of the sample, extending it with the proper nutrients, and storing it until Sassafras is ready."

The number on my makeshift notepad grew. Four hundred and fifty dollars already, and we hadn't even gotten to the main event.

"The insemination itself is another two hundred," he continued. "That includes my time, the equipment, and the procedure. We'd need to time it perfectly with Sassafras's cycle, which means ultrasounds to track follicular growth."

"And how much would that be?" I asked, dreading the answer.

"Ultrasound is also two hundred per session, and we'd likely need at least two, possibly three depending on how her cycle progresses."

I closed my eyes, mental calculator spinning. We were up to one thousand and fifty dollars minimum, and even more if three imaging sessions were needed. The electric bill beneath my notes suddenly seemed less threatening by comparison.

"There's also the option of hormone treatments, which I mentioned when you were first having issues," Dr. Harmon added. "They increase the success probability significantly. Not strictly necessary, but given the investment you're already making..."

I interrupted him before he could add another three-digit figure to my growing debt. "So, we're looking at what, Doc? Ballpark?"

There was a brief pause, and I could practically see him tallying figures in his head, perhaps weighing how much to sugarcoat the news.

"Honestly, Tammy, I’d budget two thousand, bare minimum. That will cover everything and give you a cushion. But, of course, that’s assuming…” his words trailed off. I didn’t need him to finish; I knew what he was going to say.

“That it takes on the first try," I completed his thought.

Quiet fell across the line between us. It brewed and festered until my heart felt heavy and my brain hurt.

“Yes, well, if we do need a second round, then double that number,” he finally said, “And if there are any real complications or special care once Sassy’s pregnant, the financial padding factored in might not be enough.”

The room tilted slightly, or maybe that was just my hope slipping away. Two grand could become four grand could become… a slippery slope. Two thousand bucks would cover the overdue mortgage, this month’s expenses, maybe a new pack of panties which I really needed. To save my ranch, I’d have to risk it further. The irony wasn’t lost on me.

"Tammy? You still there?" Dr. Harmon's voice cut through my spiraling thoughts.

"Yeah, Doc. Just... processing." I cleared my throat. "And what are the success rates?"

"First-time insemination with proper timing has about a sixty percent success rate. With hormone treatments, we can bump that to around seventy-five."

So, I could spend my last hope on a procedure that still had a one-in-four chance of failure. Those weren't the kind of odds that justified betting the farm, literally. But what choice did I really have?

"I appreciate the information, Doc. Let me think it over and get back to you."