This one was also written for langstonlover because she was bemoaning her tiny five-person fandom.
Summary: There's a foal born a few weeks after the shootout. Post-film.
The Chestnut Colt
There's a foal born a few weeks after the shootout.
He's chestnut-colored, with a white marking on his head.
With his first wobbly steps, still wet from the afterbirth, he had strayed from his mother and gone straight to Rafe.
Big, long-lashed eyes had looked into his and then, Rock swears up and down later, one had fluttered closed quickly in a wink.
Then he'd stumbled to each of the other two men, greeting them with his wet nose, shyly regarded Anne with those big eyes, and then stumbled back to the warmth of his dam, who had licked and nuzzled him, much to the apparent disgruntlement of the newborn colt.
. . . . .
Everything new, everything bright, everything smelling so strange and wonderful, the chestnut colt prances in the fields, chasing after much older horses and nipping and teasing at the other foals.
Full of life. Full of cheerful mischief.
They call him J.T.