Ace smiles into his glass of bourbon. "Learned to ride 'fore I could walk," he says with more than a little pride in his voice, eyes alight with his favourite subject. "From the time I was little my Da'd swing me up into the saddle with him whenever he was goin' someplace and my Ma, she used to say that if she couldn't find me she just had t'check in the barn."

He looks younger when he talks about his family, and there's a visible shift as he pulls himself back out of reminiscing. "Which is t'say yes, ma'am. Up at Brokentree, the owner -- well, he's one of them eccentrics, got a bee in his bonnet a few years back about breedin' better cow horses by bringin' in some Eastern blood, and he took me on mostly t'take care of that side of things. I do the handling, the breaking, take care of the herd most of the time. You need someone t'handle your horses, I'm your man."

Bragging? Maybe, but it's all true. He's good with the beasts and always has been and it was sheer dumb luck that he managed to stumble across an operation where he wouldn't be out after cattle all day, he knows, but it's only served to teach him more.