Arthur had made a promise to Charles that he would only keep four horses, and yet here he stood in the Van Horn Stables with five horses.
He felt like he was sinking in quicksand as he stared at the recently acquired Cremello Gold Dutch Warmblood and then back to his Revers Dapple Roan Nokota and Black Arabian, and then over to his Amber Champagne Missouri Foxtrotter.
The only horses he had decided to keep was the three-year-old Gold Turkoman gelding he'd affectionately named McCree, after a cowboy he read about in a dime novel. The horse also had a needy personality. Always sticking his head out of the stall to investigate who was coming and if Arthur was going to ride him. Often the Turkoman would give a loud booming snort of happiness when he wanted something. Usually attention.
But choosing to keep one hardly made Arthurs's life any easier. He paced as the stable owner grew more and more frustrated by Arthurs's lack of decisiveness and just before he got kicked out, Arthur made a decision. Tho the Black Arabian was a beautiful horse, it was far too skittish to be a safe riding horse for an outlaw who regularly traveled alligator filled swamps and got into frightening shootouts. No, Arabians certainly weren't bombproof horses.
As the black horse walked away from Arthur for the final time, he felt a stab of regret. That horse was the fastest horse Arthur had ever had the privilege to ride and without having Charles there to stop him, he called the stable master back and paid for an extra stall.
Making his way back to camp Arthur felt relieved he didn't have to part with any of his horses, tho he did feel a twinge of guilt. Charles had helped him so much when things got out of hand last time but... as long as Arthur kept things under control, Charles wouldn't have to find out. So it was fine.
McCree gave an especially loud snort as Arthur left the woods and entered the vast prairie of the Heartlands. The endless field was certainly McCree's favorite place to ride and Arthur had to constantly keep the excited young horse from bolting up the long paths in front of them.
Arthur patted his horse fondly and spoke soft reassurances before letting McCree have his way. They dashed up a nearby hill, McCree whinnying like a colt had Arthur smiling like a schoolboy.
This was a horse in their element Arthur marveled. This is what horses are for. To feel that freedom between rider and horse. As they galloped, Arthur began to fantasize about his dream horse. As brave as a Mustang as fast as an Arabian and as healthy as an Ardaniese. He closed his eyes and stood upright in the saddle as the wind blew around him. Arthur's thoughts took him to a memory of a heard of horses splashing through a shallow pond. As they crossed the Heartlands he imagined the speckled pattern on the Silver Dapple Pinto he'd last seen with Albert Mason.
Perhaps he could still find it? Arthur thought, unconsciously veering his horse towards the marsh.
It had taken quite a while but finally, Arthur had calmed the snorting Missouri Foxtrotter beneath him. Arthur's heart sored as it pranced around, still testing its rider.
Arthur had never felt such an adrenalin high from anything in his life. Not a bank heist or shootout. This was the happiest he'd ever been, he couldn't wait to ride his new Pinto to camp. He cringed as he realized that wasn't a very good idea at the moment. Arthur pulled the horse to a stop and whistled for McCree.
McCree trotted over with his spirits high, his ears perked and tail up. Arthur had already decided what horse he would keep. Arthur would sell the other Missouri Foxtrotter. As hard as it was for him, Arthur just couldn't keep them both.
McCree bumped noses with the new Pinto curiously and the Pinto responded by bobbing her head in excitement. Yes, Arthur grinned down at them, these two would get along splendidly. And that would be the end of it. He'd sell the other Foxtrotter... but he'd deal with it later tho. For now, he just wanted to monitor the introduction between McCree and his new horse.
A week later and Arthur docked his boat on the sandy shore south of New Auston. He hauled his saddle up onto his shoulder and made his way up to Rio Del Lobo Rock. To the place the legendary Tiger Striped Mustang had been rumored to live. Arthur worked quickly, not wanting to waist a moment longer than he had to in an area where he had such a high bounty.
Pulling out his binoculars, Arthur scanned the area until he saw the rumored horse that had haunted his dreams like a ghost. Arthur felt a thrill running through him as he took in the sight of the telltale tiger stripes decorated the legs as it grazed.
Hastily, Arthur applied a healthy amount of cover scent lotion and kept low and quiet, as he approached the horse. Despite Arthurs's best efforts, it perked it's head up and darted away.
"Easy, boy," he called, keeping his voice calm and soothing. Eventually, the horse stopped and turned towards him, perhaps out of curiosity. Arthur kept his motions slow and sure, as non-threatening as his voice. Finally, he was an arm's length away and Arthur had to fight off the growing excitement as the horse stuck out its nose to investigate him. Giving it a friendly pat on the neck Arthur swung up and rode the thrashing beast till it quieted down. He rode the animal back to his saddle and in one of the most rewarding moments of his life, he threaded the straps through the girth belt and cinched it tight and secure.
Over his shoulder Arthur heard someone shouting after him and wasted no more time, he rode the Mustang north, not stopping as bullets sored overhead. The Mustang handled the commotion like a seasoned warhorse, galloping full steam ahead. Arthur was elated as they entered Strawberry. He cheered like a cowboy bringing in the heard, they were safe and free.
Arthur leaned down and gave a healthy pat on the horse's neck as he whispered a fond "Good boah" to congratulate the Mustang. Certainly, they could have gone to the Strawberry stable but Arthur wanted more time to come up with the perfect name for his horse.
By the time they arrived, Arthur had settled on the name Rayar (rrah-yahr) meaning the Spanish word for 'striped'. He found it very fitting and knew Havier would get a kick out of hearing his poor pronunciation of it.
Riding up, Arthur was eager to pay for another stall and nameplate but as he looked at the stockyard, Arthur saw it. A beautiful and proud Revers Dapple black Thoroughbred standing in the 'for sale' pen. Arthur's hands worked faster than his head as he automatically paid for, not one but two stalls, as well as the purchase price of the impressive Thoroughbred.
It wasn't until after leaving town that Arthurs's guilt finally hit him. He slowed to a canter on the back of his new filly and realized he was in too deep once more. Taking a deep breath, Arthur prepared himself for what he needed to do. He rode in circles, trying to sort out what horses to keep and what to part with. Each combination of horses left an unsavory taste in his mouth.
Finally, he rode towards camp.
"I'm not your parent Arthur," Charles said, his back to him. "You can do what you want."
"I know but."
Charles continued to hammer in the wheel of the wagon and when Arthur didn't continue, he took a steadying breath and looked at him. "I'm worried is all. You had hundreds of horses and couldn't see it wasn't healthy. Arthur, you have an addiction. That is why we agreed on four horses, and ONLY four, not eight."
"I know." Arthur agreed solemnly, looking down at his boots. "It's not something I planned and I tried, Charles but I, I."
Charles set the hammer down and approached Arthur slowly, his voice low and gentle as he spoke, "What is it Arthur?"
"I need help narrowing the eight back down to four."
"Under one condition," Charles said. "If I help you, you won't pick up any more horses, ok?."
Arthur nodded, "Deal."
"Alright," Charles said, making his way over to the horses. "Let's start with a simple question. What horse do you look forward to riding the most?"
"The Mustang, no, the Silver Dapple or the Reverse-"
"Arthur stop! I'm sorry, that was a bad question." Charles sighed, "How about this... If the barn was on fire and you could only save one, what horse would you save?"
"Silver Dapple Pinto," Arthur said confidently. "And the-"
"No Arthur, just one." Charles corrected and Arthur nodded sadly. "Why the Pinto?"
Arthur scuffed his foot in the dirt like a kid as the thought. "The Pinto is the most well rounded, it's fast but sturdy and handles a shootout pretty well. It's an all-around great horse. Plus it's a horse I've had my eye on for a while now."
"Ok, good answer," Charles said as he reached out to Tamia and gave her a nice gentle stroke along her neck.
"Actually," Arthur began hesitantly, "I think I've already figured out what horses I want to keep." he admitted and Charles perked up curiously. "The Silver Dapple Pinto Missouri Foxtrotter, the Tiger Striped Mustang, the Revers Dapple Thoroughbred, and the Gold Turkoman."
Charles calked his head to the side, his hand on Tamia stilled as he looked at Arthur. "Seems you've made up your mind, Arthur. I'm impressed." he smiled gently to Arthur and the cowboy just blushed and ducked his head.
"The problem is I can't get rid of the Dutch Warmblood."
"Why not?"
"A friend left it to me. It was his dying wish for me to take care of it. I can't sell it."
"Alright," Charles said as he picked up a brush to run along Tamia's side. "I understand your situation, Arthur. But doesn't that mean rehousing him to a good home would fulfill this promise?"
"I think so..." Arthur nodded, a small smile forming on his lips tho Charles didn't seem to notice.
"So, all you really need to do is find someone who would treat him with the utmost respect. Someone you trust, who would love him and provide for him for the rest of his days." Arthur watched as Charles brushed Tamia's neck fondly. A wistful smile on the man's face as he doted on his own horse.
Arthur smiled cheekily. "You're right, Charles. I knew you'd be the right person for the job."
Charles blanched, backing away from his friend, "No Arthur. I-"
"Come on, you're the best person I know. If you took him I'd have no doubt I'd have kept my promise." Without waiting for a response, Arthur whistled for an unseen horse.
Charles had almost found his voice again when he saw a cream-colored horse, wearing a ridiculously huge bow on his neck, galloping towards them.
"Happy Birthday Charles!" Arthur sang as he slung his arm around Charles's shoulder.
Charles was quiet as he faced the impressive-looking Dutch Warmblood.
Noticing how uncomfortable Charles was, Arthur slowly withdrew his hand. "Look Charles, if you don't want it that's fine, I'll figure something else out. It's not a problem. I-I just thought-."
Arthur halted his rambling when he heard Charles laugh. "A deal is a deal, Arthur." Charles admitted shaking his head. "I promised to help you get back to four horses and if this is what you've come up with, then I'll gladly help you out. But" Charles placed special emphasis on the word 'BUT' "The other three horses will be sold tomorrow, alright?"
Arthur nodded happily. "Deal."