jack_f_twist (
jack_f_twist) wrote in
milliways_bar2012-05-30 01:48 pm
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You know what's real strange to get used to as a girl than a fella?
(No, not that, though Jack couldn't admit in all honesty that he ain't a mite curious.)
Riding. Riding is all kinds of weird, right now. She's got Duncan out, and normally he can control the big horse just fine, but she has got a whole lot less sheer muscle strength to work with, and it takes some getting used to.
It's fun, though, and with a wild whoop, she sends the big brown horse thundering along the meadow paths, by the lake, long hair tossing in the breeze under the gleaming white hat Bar so generously gave her.
Riding ain't all she's got to practice, and she can be found, once Duncan is cooled down and groomed and given a scoop of grain to nibble at, outside by the wide-flung doors of the barn, lariat in hand, roping hay bales.
Just 'cause she's a lady at the moment and mostly out of the rodeo as a man doesn't mean she can't get some practice in, understand.
(No, not that, though Jack couldn't admit in all honesty that he ain't a mite curious.)
Riding. Riding is all kinds of weird, right now. She's got Duncan out, and normally he can control the big horse just fine, but she has got a whole lot less sheer muscle strength to work with, and it takes some getting used to.
It's fun, though, and with a wild whoop, she sends the big brown horse thundering along the meadow paths, by the lake, long hair tossing in the breeze under the gleaming white hat Bar so generously gave her.
Riding ain't all she's got to practice, and she can be found, once Duncan is cooled down and groomed and given a scoop of grain to nibble at, outside by the wide-flung doors of the barn, lariat in hand, roping hay bales.
Just 'cause she's a lady at the moment and mostly out of the rodeo as a man doesn't mean she can't get some practice in, understand.
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Then he tries to quietly come up on the woman roping who's good and pretty.
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Among the short list of things they're not so hot at is being quiet.
She turns at the sound of hooves clopping slowly on the harder ground here by the stables, grins wide at the sight, though she doesn't recognize the horse. Clucking low and encouraging, she waits to see if the beast will come closer.
Strange, it's out of the fenced areas and unbridled. A new arrival, maybe?
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When he gets closer he whickers in a friendly way and tries to get a closer look at her hat, its one of the nicest he's ever seen.
He's a strong horse but a bit rangy, he hasn't quite filled out yet.
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"Come on," she says, smiling, holding out a hand, but the horse is paying more attention to her hat, and she holds the brim to keep it from getting knocked off if he gets too curious.
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He doesn't want to knock the hat and tries to figure out how to not be too close and still just touch the hat.
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How the hell do the girls at home wear their hair long in the heat? Good thing it'll be gone soon enough, though she gets now how Lureen can go through so much shampoo and conditioner. Seemed like he had to use half the bottle this morning, getting this mess clean.
"Not too shabby, huh?" she asks, proffering the hat. "Bar cleaned it up real nice for me."
Wouldn't last that white for even a day back home, and she normally wouldn't care, but something about being a girl has got her all sort of pleased at the way the sun glints off the white brim.
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That shouldn't surprise him but he'd forgotten that he's more aware of the world as a horse.
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She slaps the hat back down on her head, holds out a reassuring hand.
"Sorry bout that, bud. Kinda skittish, aren'tcha?"
Fair enough. Seems everybody's a little on edge, what with all the changes going on around them right now.
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He didn't mean to look so foolish, but being a horse is different.
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"No need to be embarrassed, friend. This stuff damn near scares me, too. It's nice enough, I guess, but I'll be happy to get my own hair back."
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It's hard to get the gesture right as a horse but the patting feels nice and he tries to nudge her to show he understands.
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"Guess you wasn't always a horse, huh? Sure bet that takes some gettin used to."
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The worst bit is how he gets skittish when he doesn't mean to, because he knows how to have a cool head.
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"You havin fun?"
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"Ain't much of the quiet type, myself," she tells the horse, conversational, winding up the rope into a wide loop in one hand. "Had the option a bein a horse, figured I'd drive myself and everybody about me nuts with tryin to talk. It's like ridin a bike, gotta just keep on goin, and I sorta have the tendency to run on. Still, I imagine the place'd be a whole lot more peaceful."
The rope hangs in neat loops from one hand, and she shoulders it, waving at the horse. "Go on, then. Bet you got better'n a trot, now you've got your bearings."
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When she wants him to show off, he rears up a little before first trotting around the paddock, then cantering around the hay bales before having a proper gallop and then back to her. He nudges the rope she's holding and whinnies, he wants to see what she can do with it.
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"Ropin weren't never my strong point," she warns the colt as she paces away from the haybales, slipping the rope from off her shoulder. "Ridin the bulls: that was my place at the rodeo. Still, I ain't half bad, most days."
So saying, she stops talking to concentrate, whirls the lariat over her head while keeping the slack loose in the other hand. A cast, and the loop sails over the bale, gets tugged snug up against it. Nothing fancy, but accurate.
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Then he looks at the rope before trying to show the kind of riding he does and treats the hay bales as cattle, corralling them.
Though he ends up knocking of them over as he misjudges one of his turns before stopping in front of her again.
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Then the horse knocks one over, making Jack wince and reassess. It's really sort of bizarre, actually. And weirdly funny, though she bites the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing and hurting the animal's feelings.
"Cowboy, huh?"
Either that or a sheepdog.
"Spent a couple summer herdin sheep. Hated ever second of it, stupid creatures. And they weigh a ton."
She's just bitching, though, and it's comfortable enough. "Shoulda known you're from out West like me, considerin the shape you picked."
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His family has cattle, sheep would get stuck in scrub worse than cattle.
When she gets to being out west, he whinnies and then realizes he has no idea how to say where or when and kind of sighs.
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That shake of the head, at least, can be answered. She shakes her own.
"Weren't mine," she says, darkly. "Was hired to look after 'em. Don't ever go into sheep, bud. Big, stupid, and allus either gettin eaten by coyotes or gettin stuck in the brush."
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Then he trots closer and tries to see if he can manage a sort of sketch of where he's from, but it doesn't really work.
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The sketch doesn't exactly work out (hooves not being ideal for creating detailed drawings), but she gets the idea, mulls it over as she slowly loops the rope back up.
"How 'bout I start listin places off, and you just whinny when I get to the right one?"
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"Uh...Wyoming. Texas?"
Nothing.
"Montana. Colorado. Arkansas. New Mexico. Arizona."
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She's got no clue what the line drawn in the dirt might mean, but assumes it'll get cleared up sooner or later.
"Arizona, huh? I been once or twice, with the rodeo and then later on sellin tractors. You got land there?"
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"Me, I'm from Wyoming, but lived in Texas the last few years. My daddy's plot up in Lightning Flat ain't much, but he sure holds on tight to it."
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She grins at that. "Well, I ain't much of a rancher, never was. Always wanted to just ride in the rodeo."
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She drawls it out, thumbs slipping into her belt, and shrugs, an easy roll of her shoulders.
"Ain't like it's precisely a good career choice, mind. If you're good, you can make all kindsa money ridin the bulls. Get put on TV, get endorsements from big companies want you to wear their clothes or use their stuff...but that's one in a million, bud. You're like me, you get too busted up too early on, and that's it."
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Not that it stops her. It's take a hell of a lot more than a horse than can't talk back to get Jack to shut her trap.
"Sure is fun, though," she muses. "The crowds cheerin and clappin, the girls, the rush of the ride. Ain't nothin like it. Beats sellin tractors, anyday."
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"Sounds good. In the meantime, hey." She digs in a pocket, holds something out. Something red, and shiny, that smells sweet in the hot air.
"Apple?"
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Being a horse. Her mouth curves into a smile in the shade of her hat, and she shakes her head, slightly.
Imagine that.
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There's a round of applause coming from the direction of the railings once she's done.
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Her finger goes to the brim of her hat.
"Thankee, ma'am. That weren't even nothin."
Duncan clops along behind her as she leads him over to the woman, smiling.
"Nice day for a ride."
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"We-ell," she says, the word lingering in a drawl behind her teeth, "I know folk can borrow the horses that don't have owners here. Like Duncan, his master left a long while ago, and I think he sorta belongs to the old stable-master and sorta just to the stable. I work in the stables from time to time -- or, I used to -- and I kinda got used to just borrowin them, now and again."
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