A/N: Merry Christmas everybody! I hope everyone's having a wonderful holiday! I'm sorry I'm getting this out so late but the idea just sorta hit me after that last period of writer's block so. Yeah. Anyways, I hope you enjoy and please drop a review on your way out! Also, plz let me know if y'all want me to continue this! I already have a second chapter written, but I won't post it unless y'all want to see more. Thank you!
Every Horse Needs A Cowboy
Mac woke up to the feeling of warm sunlight streaming through his window. He scrunched his eyes shut a moment later, not quite ready to wake up and face the day yet. It was a Saturday anyway and Matty felt generous enough to give the team some well deserved time off.
He turned over on his side facing the bedroom door. Blocking everything else out and embracing the warmth enveloping him. Mac sighed contently and allowed the wonderful abyss of sleep to pull him under-
Riiiiiiiiinnnng. Riiiiiiiiiinnnng. Riiiiiiinnnng.
"Oh come on!" Mac groaned pulling the blankets up over his head. Who the hell would be calling him anyway? Jack already said he was going to be busy and wouldn't bother him (even though that's totally not the case because Jack could never honestly bother him even if he tried.) And he knew Riley and Bozer had plans as well.
So he opted to just let it go to voicemail. If it was something important and they called again, he would pick up.
A frustrated sigh deflated his diaphragm when the damn stupid phone wouldn't stop ringing. He was really hoping it was just another annoying robo call or something. But apparently whoever was trying to reach him was adamant. Mac was sure his voicemail barely even played before the person was redialing again.
Lazily, he groped for his phone on his nightstand. He brought the phone to his ear, not bothering to look at the screen to see who called.
"Hello?" Mac answered, his voice rough from sleep.
"Hi." A friendly yet professional female voice replied back on the other end. "Is this Mr. Angus MacGyver?"
"Yes. . ." Mac said cautiously as he sat up against his headboard, on edge. "Who is this?"
"I'm Dorothy Williams. I'm the manager here at Green Meadow Stables." She explained easily. Mac was going to ask why she was calling, but she continued anyway.
"I'm calling to notify you that your horse seems to be acting out in his stall. We've tried calming him down ourselves, but he isn't responding well. He almost kicked one of my stable hands when we tried to get a hold of him. I would greatly appreciate it if you could come down immediately before he does some real damage."
In a daze, Mac answered. "Um, yeah. Ok, I'll. . . be there as soon as I can." He grabbed a piece of paper and hastily scribbled down the name of the stable. He'll look up the address later. "Thanks for calling me."
"You're very welcome, sir." Dorothy said politely and ended the call.
Mac pulled his phone away from his ear and stared at the screen for a long time. Green Meadow Stables? Horse? Dorothy Williams? None of that rang a single marble in his head. Could it possibly be another Angus MacGyver? A wrong number?
Either way, he felt like he needed to go check it out. Mac couldn't explain why, but the urge to go became stronger the more he thought about it. Within minutes Mac was in his Jeep and driving to the location, address plugged into his GPS.
Surprisingly, it didn't take that long to get there. A unique rock wall surrounded the property's outline. A white picket fence lined the long drive on either side. He pulled in through the huge wrought iron gates that had the stable's initials in the center. The stable was just located on the outside of the city surrounded by acres of rolling hills covered in lush green grass. Tall oak trees littered the property in various sizes and clusters.
After driving down the long windy driveway, Mac came up on three red barns. Behind the barns were two 100'x200' covered riding arenas. People were bustling about, some with horses in tow while others carried tack to and fro. To his right was an old yellow house with a stained wrapped around porch. A couple dogs ran around outside of the barns, barking noisily upon his arrival. They quieted down as soon as he parked and came bounding over with tails wagging to greet him as soon as he opened his door.
"Milo! Sam! Stop that and leave him alone." An older brunette lady of about Jack's age came walking over then. Her shiny hair was done up in a low ponytail. She wore casual clothes, but an air of authority surrounded her.
The two Blue Heeler's immediately obeyed and ran off with the other dogs. The woman then extended her hand with a pleasant smile.
"Hi, I'm Dorothy Williams." She introduced herself, brown eyes shining with warmth. "I'm assuming your Mr. MacGyver?"
"That's me." Mac smiled back and shook her hand, silently assessing his surroundings. He was still expecting someone to jump out and explain away all his bewilderment. "But please. Just call me Mac."
"Alright then. Well, if you'll follow me, I'll show you where your horse is being kept."
Mac nodded and followed Dorothy into the first barn. The barn had twenty stalls on each side with two tack rooms on each end with adjoined feed room. Two wash areas sat in the middle of the barn on each side facing one another. The flooring was cobblestone with drains in the center aisle for run off. The stalls were all custom made with lightly stained wood and black metal accents with sliding stall doors. Each stall had a mountain of fresh fluffy pine shavings for bedding with an attached 50' run for the horses to go out if they wanted. Most stalls were already occupied with stunning horses of all sizes and colors.
"Since I called you he's calmed down a bit. But he's still pacing rapidly and pinning his ears at anyone who goes near him." Dorothy told him as they neared the end of the barn. Mac noticed two other people standing around one particular stall. They started to walk away as they approached.
"Hopefully maybe you'll have better luck."
She stopped and gestured to their destination. Sure enough, the horse was clearly pissed to hot hell. Nickering consistently and throwing his head violently in agitation while pacing around and around in his stall, going faster with each lap. But that's not what really caught his eye.
Inside the stall was a very tall, gorgeous black Overo paint. His mane was half black and half white while his tail was completely black. The muscular horse had two white socks on his hind legs and a white stocking on his right front leg. White ears twitched at every little noise. The stout paint had a thick white blaze painting the center of his big black head and had a white spot over his left eye.
When their gazes finally met, Mac was taken back not by the sudden pause in the powerful animal's pacing, but by his eyes. They were chocolate brown.
A very familiar chocolate brown.
Mac could feel himself pale. Oh hell no. No way. . .
"Mac?" Dorothy's worried voice filtered through his mind. "Are you alright?" Mac saw Dorothy switch her gaze from him to the horse a few times. Obviously she wasn't the only one shocked by the sudden change in behavior from the paint.
Mac managed to swallow thickly and nod distractedly. His baby blues never once wavering from the familiar gaze in front of him. The paint was doing the same, standing stock still with ears pricked forward in attention. Mac turned to the brunette woman.
"Could. . . Could I have a moment alone? With him, I mean." Mac gestured to the now silent creature behind him with a small jerk of his thumb. Dorothy gave them both a strange look but backed off and went out of the barn. Looking around, Mac found that he was now the only one in there.
Taking a deep breath, Mac carefully unlatched the stall door and slid it open. The paint, sensing Mac's wariness, slowly backed up to the wall. Giving Mac more than enough room to back away if he chose to. Mac kept his eyes on him the whole time, just now noticing the snug-fitting brown leather halter on the large horse's face, the gold metal name plate on the cheek band glinting brightly in the sunlight. Mac took hesitant steps over to the paint and gently put his hand on the halter. In turn the paint softly lifted his nose into Mac's hand in kind. The blonde felt some of his anxiety melt away at the gesture.
That is, until he read the little name plate on the left side of the halter's cheek band.
JACKPOT
The single name was engraved with capitalized scripted letters, proudly proclaiming it. Mac didn't quite understand why exactly it seemed to take his breath away. It was only a name. No need to get all worked up about it. Besides, the tag says Jackpot. Not Jack.
But the similarity was just too hard to come by.
The tall paint (sorry, Jackpot) snorted, startling Mac out of his reverie with a jolt. Mac could've sworn he saw amusement in those bright eyes. But then again he could've been imagining it too. Mac sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Maybe he partied too hard last night and this was all a dream his brain conjured up while sleeping off a hangover? It was certainly possible, but also very unlikely that he would act so irresponsible. It was hard for even Jack to get him to act like that.
Movement got his attention this time. Instinctively, Mac flattened himself against the wall when Jackpot moved away from him. Mac thought he was going to walk outside, but then the paint continued to face him. Staring him down as if asking him to do something. Say something. However, Mac didn't do a thing the whole time. He was still stuck in his head about how all of this shit even happened and, more importantly, what caused it to happen.
Seeing no other option, Jackpot made his way back over to the still blonde. He made sure to keep his distance though, giving Mac more than enough leeway to escape should he choose. The stunning paint lowered his head slightly, softly making contact with Mac's hand. Mac flinched, expecting something more dangerous to come from such a large creature. Or maybe it was his nerves with the whole situation. Whatever the reason, it was enough to make Jackpot pause in his approach. Waiting for the blonde to give his approval before doing anything more.
Mac watched him intently. His gaze bored into the paint's. Emotions and questions flashed behind his blue eyes, but disappeared too quickly to identify them.
"J-Jack?" He asked quietly, voice barely above a whisper. "Is that. . . you?"
For a split second, Mac felt embarrassment start to filter through. This was a horse. His partner was not a horse. Obviously he must've hit his head on something on the way in because he was clearly delirious. Watch. Any minute now his partner will call and ask him what he's doing and if he wanted to go catch a movie or something. Just like he always did.
But nothing like that happened (of course). Because that would just be too good to be true.
No. Instead Mac got the surprise of his life when the beautiful paint tossed his handsome head with a sharp whinny, his front leg striking the ground just off to Mac's left. The blonde gasped and shrunk back down to the floor in surprise (and possibly fear). Adrenaline pumped through his system. Mac watched with wide eyes as the horse spun around fast enough to get whiplash and bolted out into the attached run. He saw dust fly up in the air as Jackpot made another sharp turn and came hauling ass back into the stall full speed. He skid to a stop mere inches from the stall door.
After Mac got his pounding heart under some sort of control, he shot a glare at the horse. Though Mac was sure the paint could clearly see the barely suppressed fear in his eyes.
"What the hell was that for?" Mac tried to demand, but his voice came out sounding more like a fearful squeak instead.
Jackpot simply nickered happily and walked over to where Mac still sat, lowering his head enough to look the blonde in the eye. There was no denying the amusement sparkling there in those brown orbs. Mac let out a pent up breath and lowered his forehead to Jackpot's. He closed his eyes and gently gripped the cheek bands of the halter in his hands. The paint's warm breath warming his belly with each exhale.
"Oh my god."