(no subject)
Muse: Laine Anderson
Fandom: Original Character
Track: Sympathy For The Devil
Artist: The Rolling Stones
Album: Forty Licks
Three days later and Erdshatten was still lame. His left haunch seemed to be bothering him and he shied away from being saddled every time Laine had tried. Resigned, and not a little worried, she gave in and called Dr Anderson. Jack.
She hated having him come out to the ranch if it meant he was going to be in the horse barn. Usually she took her animals to him but with this weather she didn’t want to hitch up a horse trailer and make the drive. So here he was. And true to form, after he’d looked over Erdie and declared him as sound as possible for a lame beast, he turned his attention to his favorite pet peeve.
“I’m telling you, darlin’, he’s getting up there in age. You can’t work him all day any more. Give him some time to rest up and he’ll be fine. Take Abby the next time you decide to ride fences in this shit weather, she’s built for it. Can’t you do that after the first thaw? Ain’t like you’ve got livestock up there grazing right now anyhow.”
“Don’t tell me how to run Flint Creek.”
“Your ranch.”
“Wes’s ranch.”
This was an old argument. Roughly five years running and Jackson had no intention of trying to win it today. His ex-wife was as stubborn as any ten mules and he knew it. Still, he wasn’t going to let a matter of tangent relation slide. He eyed the black gelding that was tossing his head in annoyance as he stood at the closed door to his double stall at the back of the barn.
“Laine…”
“Don’t start, Jack. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You never do.”
“Then drop it.”
“I told you, I’ll take him out to my place. Do it there. You won’t have to be involved.”
“No!” She flashed those steely blue eyes at him then. Dug her heels in. She knew Jackson wasn’t the only one who thought Jagger should be destroyed. Most of the hands felt the same way. Her father did too. Erin…hell, she’d volunteered to pull the trigger right after Wes’s funeral. Still won’t talk to Laine because of what the other woman considers a betrayal. “He’s fine. He’s staying here. I’m keeping him.”
“The animal is a menace. He’s a killer.”
“He’s a horse.”
“He killed your brother.”
“Don’t you talk to me about Wes…”
“Lainey…be reasonable. The cost of keeping him is a drain you can’t afford. You don’t even ride him. Can’t ride him. The bastard won’t let anyone near him without rearing like the devil he is.”
“Wes rode him. He loved that horse. What happened was an accident Jack, an accident. People have accidents all the time and we don’t drag them out to the back forty and put a bolt gun to their foreheads. Why do we do that to horses?”
“Because they’re people, honey. I know you’ve never been able to tell the difference between the two but horses aren’t people.”
“I can tell the difference you sonovabitch.”
“Right, you prefer the horses.”
“Damned right I do. Horses don’t do jackass shit like tell me to shoot people they find annoying.”
“Thank God, you’re just piss and vinegar enough to do it if they did talk.”
“Horses do talk Jack. How can you work with so many of them and not understand their language?”
“If I’m such a lousy vet, why do you keep me on retainer?”
“I didn’t say that, you know you’re the best damned…” She made a frustrated noise and threw up her hands. “If I didn’t know you weren’t good, I’d never trust you with my animals. Any of them.”
“Hey, Lainey?” He sounded mischievous then.
“What?”
“If you love horses so much, what are you doing with a cattle ranch?”
“Asshole.”
He waited until she had stormed down the length of the barn before speaking up again, a tired look at the black killer who seemed to be glaring at him from behind a wood post. “Do me a favor, about this mean bastard?”
She turned, hands on hips. “I’m keeping him.”
“Of course you are, Hard Head.” He shook his head. Woman wore him out with her stubborn idiocy. “I know of a guy who might be able to figure out what Jagger’s problem is…make him saddle-ready again.”
“You fuckin’-” She started towards him again, looking as if she was going to kick his ass. “All this time you’ve been after me to destroy him and you know someone who can…”
“Might, I said might. And I haven’t know him long. Never actually met him. Just talked to him on the phone a few times. MacEibhir. Irish guy out of New Mexico. He’s a breeder but he has a reputation for working with difficult horses. You want his number?”
“Why didn’t you just say that when you got here? You pissed me off on purpose, you bastard, didn’t you?”
“I like the way you look when you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass. Reminds me of how things were when we was married.” He laughed.
She hit him, fists against his chest but only hard enough to amuse him more. “You’re sick, Jack. Twisted.”
“You love me.”
“Not any more.”
“Bullshit.”
“Give me this McEver’s number and get out of my barn.”
Fandom: Original Character
Track: Sympathy For The Devil
Artist: The Rolling Stones
Album: Forty Licks
Three days later and Erdshatten was still lame. His left haunch seemed to be bothering him and he shied away from being saddled every time Laine had tried. Resigned, and not a little worried, she gave in and called Dr Anderson. Jack.
She hated having him come out to the ranch if it meant he was going to be in the horse barn. Usually she took her animals to him but with this weather she didn’t want to hitch up a horse trailer and make the drive. So here he was. And true to form, after he’d looked over Erdie and declared him as sound as possible for a lame beast, he turned his attention to his favorite pet peeve.
“I’m telling you, darlin’, he’s getting up there in age. You can’t work him all day any more. Give him some time to rest up and he’ll be fine. Take Abby the next time you decide to ride fences in this shit weather, she’s built for it. Can’t you do that after the first thaw? Ain’t like you’ve got livestock up there grazing right now anyhow.”
“Don’t tell me how to run Flint Creek.”
“Your ranch.”
“Wes’s ranch.”
This was an old argument. Roughly five years running and Jackson had no intention of trying to win it today. His ex-wife was as stubborn as any ten mules and he knew it. Still, he wasn’t going to let a matter of tangent relation slide. He eyed the black gelding that was tossing his head in annoyance as he stood at the closed door to his double stall at the back of the barn.
“Laine…”
“Don’t start, Jack. I don’t want to hear it.”
“You never do.”
“Then drop it.”
“I told you, I’ll take him out to my place. Do it there. You won’t have to be involved.”
“No!” She flashed those steely blue eyes at him then. Dug her heels in. She knew Jackson wasn’t the only one who thought Jagger should be destroyed. Most of the hands felt the same way. Her father did too. Erin…hell, she’d volunteered to pull the trigger right after Wes’s funeral. Still won’t talk to Laine because of what the other woman considers a betrayal. “He’s fine. He’s staying here. I’m keeping him.”
“The animal is a menace. He’s a killer.”
“He’s a horse.”
“He killed your brother.”
“Don’t you talk to me about Wes…”
“Lainey…be reasonable. The cost of keeping him is a drain you can’t afford. You don’t even ride him. Can’t ride him. The bastard won’t let anyone near him without rearing like the devil he is.”
“Wes rode him. He loved that horse. What happened was an accident Jack, an accident. People have accidents all the time and we don’t drag them out to the back forty and put a bolt gun to their foreheads. Why do we do that to horses?”
“Because they’re people, honey. I know you’ve never been able to tell the difference between the two but horses aren’t people.”
“I can tell the difference you sonovabitch.”
“Right, you prefer the horses.”
“Damned right I do. Horses don’t do jackass shit like tell me to shoot people they find annoying.”
“Thank God, you’re just piss and vinegar enough to do it if they did talk.”
“Horses do talk Jack. How can you work with so many of them and not understand their language?”
“If I’m such a lousy vet, why do you keep me on retainer?”
“I didn’t say that, you know you’re the best damned…” She made a frustrated noise and threw up her hands. “If I didn’t know you weren’t good, I’d never trust you with my animals. Any of them.”
“Hey, Lainey?” He sounded mischievous then.
“What?”
“If you love horses so much, what are you doing with a cattle ranch?”
“Asshole.”
He waited until she had stormed down the length of the barn before speaking up again, a tired look at the black killer who seemed to be glaring at him from behind a wood post. “Do me a favor, about this mean bastard?”
She turned, hands on hips. “I’m keeping him.”
“Of course you are, Hard Head.” He shook his head. Woman wore him out with her stubborn idiocy. “I know of a guy who might be able to figure out what Jagger’s problem is…make him saddle-ready again.”
“You fuckin’-” She started towards him again, looking as if she was going to kick his ass. “All this time you’ve been after me to destroy him and you know someone who can…”
“Might, I said might. And I haven’t know him long. Never actually met him. Just talked to him on the phone a few times. MacEibhir. Irish guy out of New Mexico. He’s a breeder but he has a reputation for working with difficult horses. You want his number?”
“Why didn’t you just say that when you got here? You pissed me off on purpose, you bastard, didn’t you?”
“I like the way you look when you’ve got a stick shoved up your ass. Reminds me of how things were when we was married.” He laughed.
She hit him, fists against his chest but only hard enough to amuse him more. “You’re sick, Jack. Twisted.”
“You love me.”
“Not any more.”
“Bullshit.”
“Give me this McEver’s number and get out of my barn.”