Wadin' Waters (Mature/Experienced)

POV~Joey


"What's your name, son?"
"Joey. Joey White."
"Age?"
"Twenty-six. Twenty-seven this July."
"I don't care 'bout your birthday." He spit. "Where else have your worked?"
"Around." Jacob Bateman looked at me with scrutiny up and down, and I automatically stiffened.
"No criminal records? I don't want no cops on my front step, whether they be draggin' you away or me for housin' you." He spit again, and I held back the look that almost came onto my face.
"No sir." Probably the biggest lie I'll ever tell.
"Good. You star' Monday, work through ta Sunday, sun-up 'till sun-down. On Sundays, you come in a bit later at eight, leave a bit early at five. Ye hear me?" I nodded.
"Yes, sir."
"Good. Paychecks come at the end of every Sunday workday, you share the bunkhouse with the three other hands. No bitchin' with any of them, either, and don't go startin' no brawls, else I'll kick you out sure as hell. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Part of the pay is food and shelter. And yer horse's board and feed comes out of yer pay, as well."
"Yes, sir." We stepped inside the dim bunkhouse.
"Play nice, don't ask questions, work hard, and you'll do just fine here." I could hear his cackling laughter after her left the bunkhouse clear up until the farmhouse door slammed shut behind him.

I set Royal's last black hoof down on the ground, sliding my hand gently up his strong leg and muscled shoulder, patting his neck gently. The fading afternoon Summer light cast golden and sepia rays down through the wooden panels of the barn, which kept out most of the heat that lingered even after the sun went down nowadays. Roy shook his head, pulling at the forest green leadrope that tied him to the ring outside his box stall, and I could hear the clip clicking against the metal, ringing down the barn aisle. He dragged his left fore hoof against the cement a few times, flicking his long, silky black tail.

"Steady," I commanded in my deep, gruff voice, and he instantly became still again, turning his head slightly to examine me with his large, dark, intelligent eyes. Dropping the hoofpick in the tack box, I picked up the soft rag, straightening again and rubbing down Roy's dark body. The way the light was falling through the barn, I could pick up the tints of reddish brown fire that danced over Roy's back, shoulders, and flanks that marked him as a bay, not a black. He shifted his weight from his right to his left, towards me, and dropped his head, ears falling forward again in content. I continued to wipe the rag over his body in slow, clean swipes, following the pattern of his hair, his pelt gleaming and soft beneath my touch. I could hear footsteps coming towards the barn, entering it now, coming towards me.

"Excuse me." A bit surprised to hear the voice of a girl, I continued to look at Roy and brush him.
"Can I help you, miss."
"I was jus' lookin' around, you know, 'cause of the trail ride goin' on here this week."
"Well, look around all you want, but I'd appretiate it if you stay out of mine and the other hands' ways." Dropping the rag back into the tack box, I untied Roy's lead rope, turning and finally looking at the girl. She had red sausage curls framing her pretty face and was wearing low rise pants and a tight, spaghetti-strap crop-top with a V-neck that showing the tops of her budding breasts. Her belly button was pierced, as well, and the bit of belly that was showing where her jeans and shirt parted was soft-looking and nicely tanned. She moved out of my way.
"Pushy. I was jus' lookin' for someone who might be able to show me around."
"I'm busy."
"You sure you don't have any time?" I glanced back at her. She was leaning against the frame of the stall and smiling.
"I'm sure." Turning back around, I led Royal out of the stable without looking back.

The afternoon sunlight was slanting and light, the sun sinking below the 'beautiful California mountains' as everyone called them. I honestly couldn't wait to get out. The Boss was hosting a two-week long trail ride starting Sunday, tomorrow, and the ranch was crowded with teenagers who were planning on coming, though I knew none of them actually cared about the ride itself or the horses. The girls all came for the horse-riding cowboys with washboard abs who always took their shirts off, and the guys were here to see the girls in the bikini tops and short-shorts. Before, I would have been one of those guys. But not anymore, and I didn't plan on going back.

I opened the door to the large, wide-open green pasture, unclipping Roy's lead rope. He immediately broke into a trot, then a canter, high-step tail raised and flowing, neck arched, long legs carrying him swiftly away. He bucked a few times, stretching his back out, before he lowered himself to his knees and then to his side, rolling. My expression softened slightly, until I heard the voice behind me.

"He sure looks good." I turned, expecting to see another slutty cowgirl-wannabe, but did a double-take when the woman I saw was completely different from what I was expecting.





Please, if you reply, post a nice-sized entrance post and at least a paragraph hereafter. There will be cussing and other adult content.
Roy is a dark bay Anglo-Arab.
Joey's Bio (Click)

(Ah, sorry if it's not long enough)

( It's fine, thanks for replying! )



Joey
My eyes immediately roved over the petite-looking girl who was now next to me. She actually didn't look like one of the perky teens who came here supposedly once a year for a little 'thrill', and, even with her obvious barn clothes, she didn't exactly look like she belonged out here in the middle of nowhere in the country on a working ranch. I dipped my head in a sort of nod, straightening up from the white-washed fence that I had been leaning on, surprised to get praise on the end of my first day. "Thank you," I say, contemplating whether or not to add a 'ma'am' at the end, and decided to, tacking it on at the end as an afterthought. "Ma'am," I said before reaching out my hand partway. "I'm Joey. Do you work here as well?" I ask, nodding slightly to indicate the ranch. I heard Roy's hoofbeats coming up to the fence, stopping about seven yards away, no doubtedly studying us for a moment, before he spun on his hocks and dashed away. He normally didn't play nice with strangers; Or anyone for that matter, I was the single exception as I had been working with him since his mother had rejected him at birth.

Maybe you should have thought of all the topics you would leave before you went. I'll miss your writing styles, your influencing words, your addicting posts, and your inspirtation and ideas. Please come back eventually.


-Echo




I will be re-posting this topic somewhere else, anyone feel free to join it.

Hey... It's me... I think I'm going to be back on Horse Island after thinking it through. But I guess we can't start this topic back up, can we?