The first time Neal got on a horse, it was in the dead of night. He'd snuck over to the neighbor's place and slipped through the fence. A small brown pony looked at him briefly, then went back to grazing.
He'd been curious then, so he gave the little horse the apple he'd brought along, considering that a good enough reason for the animal to like him, so he climbed on its back and sat there. The pony paid him little attention, just standing there, occasionally taking a step.
That got boring quickly, so Neal kicked it with his heels like he'd seen cowboys do in the movies.
The effect was instantaneous. The peaceful little pony suddenly lunged forward and Neal tumbled off its back end rather quickly.
He'd been four years old then, and he decided he was never getting on another horse as long as he lived.
-)()(-
Neal got a mouth full of sand as he fell on his face. The big grey horse he'd been sitting on a second ago was now halfway across the ring, still bucking, though he settled down a moment later.
With a frustrated groan, Neal got back on his feet, brushing himself off. "You're not gonna get away with that for long," he muttered.
The big grey merely looked at him from where it stood across the ring as if to say, 'Try me'.
"Having some trouble?"
Neal jumped at Peter's voice and turned to see him leaning casually against the gate like he'd been there for some time. "No, I'm good."
"Captain doesn't seem to think so," Peter commented, hiding his amusement.
Neal glanced at the horse again. "Nasty habit. I'm trying to break it for him."
"And you're doing exceedingly well at that," Peter chuckled. "What, you think I haven't been keeping count of the amount of times you've been thrown?"
"Three," Neal said in a mumble.
Peter slipped through the gate and walked over to give Neal a nudge toward the fence. "Let me give it a shot."
Neal looked at him oddly. "Really. You. On a horse."
"Watch a pro," Peter smirked, and Neal held his hands up in surrender.
"Be my guest, Butch."
"Watch and learn, Sundance."
Neal slipped out through the gate and stood by it, resting his arms on one of the bars as he watched.
Peter walked over and grabbed Captain's reins, leading him back into the center of the ring. He gave the big horse a pat on the neck, then put his foot in the stirrup and swung himself effortlessly into the saddle.
Captain started trotting around the edge when commanded to do so and Neal looked on in anticipation as they got to the long white ribbon he'd tied to the post. Captain's ears laid back and he sidestepped quickly, but Peter corrected him.
Neal smirked as the horse fought against him, then started bucking. However, he was surprised to see Peter manage to keep his seat, even as he pulled up on the reins hard.
Captain stopped, prancing in place for a moment, but he was no longer bucking and Peter spoke to him in a soothing voice. "See? That thing's not gonna hurt you."
Neal couldn't help but smile. "Okay, how'd you do that?"
Peter walked Captain around the ring again. "You were going too easy on him. Pull up on the reins so he can't get his head down. Makes it a lot harder for him to buck you off."
"Who knew Peter Burke was a horseman?" Neal said, coming back in through the gate as his friend dismounted.
"I was raised in upstate, remember?" Peter said, handing Captain's reins back over. "Lots of horses."
They both glanced over at Elizabeth's approach and she came to stand beside Neal. "You boys about done? Mozzie is here."
Neal grimaced. "I completely forgot. He and I were gonna..." He glanced at Peter. "We were going to hang out."
Peter raised an eyebrow with a small smirk. "Got a date?"
"Nothing illegal."
"I like how you have to clarify that. What would your coach think?"
Neal squinted. "I don't have a coach." At Peter's pointed look, he rolled his eyes. "You are not my coach."
"Whatever you say."
Neal brought Captain back in to remove his tack, then let him loose in the paddock to run around while he went in to see Mozzie.
"You're not my coach," he was sure to repeat as he passed Peter again.
-)()(-
It was night, and once again, Neal was on the back of a horse. Except this time he wasn't four and he knew better by now than to kick the animal in the side.
Instead, he just sat and relaxed, eyes raised to the stars. Everyone was asleep, so it was just he and Orson tonight. The palomino paint had been a gift from Mozzie, bought when he was just a young colt. Neal had trained the horse himself.
Across the field, he could see the oak tree under which they had buried Captain last winter. He'd grown older, like Neal had over the years. But he'd been in pain too. It was a kindness to relieve him of it.
Neal looked back to the house where his wife and daughter were sleeping. Tomorrow was another day. The Burkes were bringing over their little boy, Mozzie was tagging along with them. Things had finally settled into something of a normal routine for them all.
He still helped the FBI, but his sentence was up and he was a free man. He'd married the daughter of the man who used to own this ranch, and now he could call it his own. Here, he meant something, he was needed.
Orson snorted loudly as he grazed, breaking Neal from his thoughts. He smiled a bit and gave the horse a pat on the neck. "If you want a happy ending..." he quoted softly.
He was never happier.
