As the weeks went by, Harry and Ron slowly began to adjust to ranch life. They became good friends with most of the regulators and the horses. Getting up before the sun rose seemed normal. They switched their usual sweater/dress pants combo for Levi's, rodeo T-shirts, and secondhand boots.
Harry learned how to shoot a pistol from Billy and soon after was a crack shot.

But the biggest changes had taken in place in Ron. Hauling saddles and getting only two meals a day replaced his puppy fat with muscle. He became less nervous and shaky; he even lost a lot of his follower mentality. Ron was also a very skilled rider. Sometimes, Serena could hardly believe this was the same kid who'd pitched a fit about not being able to have afternoon tea.

As Sparks grew more and more pregnant, Chavez stopped riding her, taking one of the spare horses instead. He also spent less time driving cattle so he'd be on hand when the foal was born.

One night, the regulators had just sat down to dinner when Harry burst through the front door. He was white and shaking. Serena's face immediately grow worried.

"Come quickly to the barn," Harry panted. "Something's wrong with Sparks."

Chavez dropped his fork and stood up so quickly he knocked his chair over. The others left the table, curious to see what was happening.

Sparks lay on her side, breathing heavily, her eyes wild. She raised her head and let out a shrill whinny.

"It's all right, girl," Chavez said in a soothing tone, stroking her neck. He peered around Sparks's backside. A tiny nose was already visible. "You can do it, Sparks," said Chavez. "You're almost there."

A very tense hour passed before the foal finally emerged completely. It blinked its large brown eyes confusedly, staring around at this strange new environment.

"Welcome to the world, little one," said Chavez.

Sparks, though she was exhausted from the birth, groomed the foal all over. Its spotted coat was revealed to be pinkish roan in color. The foal started to test its wobbly, skinny legs. Before it fell down, Serena snuck a look under the tail.

"It's a girl," she announced with a smile.

"What are we gonna name it?" asked Dick gruffly, the only who didn't seem to find this a happy occasion.

"Freckles?" suggested Charley.

"Merlot?" Doc offered.

"Let's name her Desert Rose," said Chavez in a very final way.

"We could call her Rosy for short," Serena added. "I do wonder who the father is..."

At that moment, Dirty's Steve horse, a proud chestnut stallion named Mescal, wandered over to check out the source of the commotion. He sniffed interestedly at Rosy. Much to everyone's surprise, Sparks didn't pin her ears back and lash out to protect her baby. Instead, she gazed at Mescal with unmistakable love in her eyes.

"It looks like you and I are in-laws, Steve," said Chavez with an evil smirk on his face.

Dirty Steve grinned weakly, shock etched into his features. He grabbed a lead rope and took Mescal out to pasture, shouting at him all the while. "What in the hell is wrong with you? Why'd you have to go screwin' with the greaser's horse? You're a pain in the ass, you damned mule."

Billy began to laugh his one-of-a-kind laugh at this development. The others settled back to watch as Sparks guided Rosy toward her nipples to nurse.

"She's sure got Steve's table manners," said Billy, noticing the greedy way Rosy drank her mother's milk.

When Rosy had drunk as much as she could, she flopped onto the dirt floor of the stable. Sparks lay down, proudly nuzzling her new baby. They were asleep within minutes.