Four Way Shot walked into the kitchen a little later than usual, his alarm clock hadn't been set to it's usual time and he had misplaced his hat. Arson was already in the living room, his father was sitting on the couch reading a magazine and Arson had been dusting the table tops and there had been a stack of books sitting by the tv.
"Howdy Torch." he said. Torch lowered the magazine and stared at him hard. Arson turned around and made a motion of no-no with his hand, the whole front of his shirt was wet.
"Go get you some breakfast," his uncle pulled the magazine up and began reading it again. Arson walked forward quickly and pulled him down so that he could say something into his ear.
"My dad has me on manual labor," his brother said. "watch yourself, you may be next."
There was a woman in the kitchen when he walked in, she was wearing a green shirt and blue jeans, clearing his throat and walking over, he planned on greeting her.
"Hello Four Way," the woman said. "take a seat, I'll have your breakfast to you in a sec."
When the woman turned he recognised her right off, her name was Judy and she was one of the ladies his uncle Blade was dating. Slasha was her daughter, she had gotten her copper colored hair from her mother, the gray that was mixed in was from her father. Judy's shirt was open a little, a white tank top underneath, and she had a silver necklace with a pink heart hanging from the silver chain, pink hearts hung from her ears.
"Whut's fer breakfast?" Four Way Shot asked.
"Your usual." Judy said, walking towards him with a pan.
He had two usuals when it came to breakfast, a plate of beacon and eggs or just a pancake with syrup and a strawberry on top. The pan that she was holding was the one she used when she was making pancakes, he felt his mouth water, it had been a while since he had eaten the waffles with honey and whipped cream. When she placed the pancake on his plate all she did was put some syrup on it, turning his head to the side and looking up at her, he wondered where the strawberry was. A few seconds later he decided to start eating it, thinking that his father had told her to just make him something to eat fast.
"You father wants you outside once you are finished eating." Judy said, leaning against the counter.
"How's ol' Loui?" Four Way Shot asked.
"Better," she said. "he'll be up and walking in a few more days."
"Ye mus' be a-breathin' a sigh o' relief." Four Way Shot said, swallowing a mouthful of pancake.
"Yes, I am."
Judy's youngest son, Loui, had caught the Chicken Pocks a few days before he had ran away, he was only two years old and had gotten very sick, not being able to get out of bed for nothing. He and Arson had joked the night he had been stricken with the illness about him always running after and playing with the chickens. Swallowing the last bit of what he had on his plate he pushed himself from the table and walked to the door. When he turned around he saw that Judy was walking towards the sink with his plate. Lacing his fingers and cracking them, he opened the door and walked out.
His father, he believed, was in the barn that housed the horses so he headed towards it, he could hear one of the horses pawing at the bedding, begging to be fed. There were nine stables in the barn, five of them were occupied with another that was hardly used, the horse was wild at heart and at times would run away in the pasture when it was time to be brought in for the night, there was another horse on the property that did that as well, his father hadn't gotten around to taming her yet. When he entered the barn the first thing he did was stop and take in the smells of the horses, the hay and the manure.
"Pa?" he asked.
The pawing was coming from the first stall, the top and bottom of the doors were closed so he didn't know which of the horses it was that was pawing. When he didn't get an answer he headed to the feeding room, there was a set of instructions for feeding each horse tacked to a bulletin board, he knew them by heart. Grabbing a scoop, he lifted one of the boxes of feed up and dipped it in, when he pulled the scoop out he poured the oats in a red bucket. The second scoop was for some pellets, when he was pushing the scoop into the sweet grain he stopped, he believed the horse that was in the stall that was pawing at the bedding was his father's favorite stallion, one of two stallions in the barn. When he walked out of the feed room he walked into his father.
"Whut ye doin'?" his father asked.
"Feedin' one o' the hosses." he replied.
"Which one?" his father asked.
"The one that's a-pawing pa."
His father pulled his kerchief off and wiped his face with it, he didn't know how hot it was or how long his father had been out but judging by the way his clothes were he had been out for a while. There was a tear in the right knee of his jeans, his jeans were muddy and dusty and his shirt was untucked and dirty. His father stepped to the side and let him go past, when he was a few feet away he saw that he was walking towards the end stall, the foaling stall that held the only mare bred on the ranch.
"Ye be shur to give all o' the hosses water," he heard his father say. "las' time ye didn't, darn thangs was a-callin' fer hours."
When he reached the stall the horse inside had stopped pawing, he could imagine that the horse was standing in front of the door, ears pricked high, listening to every word that had been exchanged. With a smile, he pulled the latch and opened the door, the horse inside nickered softly when he saw him. He was a magnificent animal of fourteen and a half hands, lovely dark bay with two front stockings and a blaze.
"Howdy Banjo," he said, patting the horse on the nose.
His father had built a small step so that he could reach the feed bowl in every stall, stepping onto it he hardly had the contents in the bucket in the bowl before the horse pushed his nose in. Turning around and walking out of the stall, he grabbed another bucket and filled it to the top with water. When he turned around he saw his father standing in front of the stall.
"Ye tryin' to teach mah hoss that it's a-fine to walk off?" his father asked angrily.
"No pa," Four Way Shot squeaked. "never."
"Nex' time ye leave a stall," his father said, taking a step towards him. "close the door."
"Yes pa," Four Way Shot said, stepping forward with the bucket. "I a-will."
"Nex' time I a-catch ye walkin' off leavin' a stall door open fer one o' mah hosses to walk out yer tail will a-be considered hoss food." his father said, walking off. "An' I ain't kiddin' either."
Giving food to the four horses that were in the front of the barn was easy, when he left each stall to get them water he remembered to close the door behind him, he didn't feel like being followed by a bunch of horses trying to snatch at his pants. The fifth horse in the barn, the one in the foaling box, was harder to feed. Her name was Mae and she was pregnant with a Colonels Smoking Gun foal, she was a Buckskin mare with dark brown stripes on her legs. She needed a little more food which had required him to go back to the feed room and fill the bucket half way. When he checked out the fifth stall he smiled greatly.
Standing inside was a delightfully gorgeous palomino stallion, he had three stockings and a sock and a very long blaze that reached down to his nose. His dark brown eyes were very bright, throwing his head up he tossed his white mane. Four Way Shot had witnessed the birth of this horse three years ago, his mother was the horse he had just fed. His father was one of the grandchildren of Doc Bar, a spectacular halter horse who had revolutionized the cutting horse industry. His mother was half thoroughbred, which attributed him to having more leg and less barrel of a purebred Quarter Horse. For the past year and a half he and his father had been training him for the upcoming barrel races that were five months away. He hoped that he hadn't spoiled it by running away, he really wanted to be a participant in the races.
"Howdy Xooti," Four Way Shot called. "how ye today?"
His father had woken him up at three and had dragged him half dressed to the barn, it had taken Mae an hour and twenty minutes to foal, when she had the foal had tried to get up right away. He had been darker as a foal, lightening up to the light palomino that he was now. He had been allowed to name the foal, Bee'xooti. His father had said an hour after he had been born, while they had been drinking cocoa, that the foal was his. When he poured the contents in the bucket in the trough his horse shoved his nose in and started eating.
Leaving his horse after giving him water, he walked to the last stall that would usually be empty. He held his breath and looked in, his luck had ran out. Standing in the stall was a chestnut mare of fourteen hands, she had a star and snip on her face. When the mare saw him she screamed. The horse didn't belong to his father, she belonged to a woman that had a similar temper. For some reason the woman and his father got along great, he had caught them riding off together, his father on Banjo and the woman on the mare, and one time he had caught his father holding her hand. He could swear that the woman slept in his father's room, a few times he had caught her closing his door before his alarm clock would go off.
"Howdy Madonny," he said. "ye gonna be a good gal today?"
As soon as the words left his mouth the mare reared up and screamed. Her striped hooves stretched for the door and hit it, her door wasn't like the others, the other stalls had a latch on them, hers was chained as she had figured out how to get it open, her door was also steel, she had kicked the wooden door off it's hinges several times. Plucking the courage needed to open the door, he stretched his hand out.
"Four Way Shot!"
Opening his eyes and turning around, he saw a woman of tall stature running towards him. She was, at least, five feet seven maybe more inches tall with dark brown hair and equally dark brown eyes. She was wearing a red button up shirt, tucked in, and blue jeans, and she had black boots on her feet and a light brown cowgirl hat on her head. When she reached him she gently pushed him away from the stall, the horse inside was calming down.
"Let me." the girl said.
"Whar'd ye come from?" Four Way Shot asked, backing away and giving her room.
"I was just talking to your father," she said. "he said for me to give you this."
The girl handed him a piece of paper with instructions written on it in his father's handwriting. Sighing loudly, he started walking down the aisle. The girl had been living at the ranch since before he was born, his father had to know her a lot. Stopping at the middle of the barn and turning around, he saw that she had two buckets in hand, one full of feed and the other full of water. She was in and out of the stall within ten minutes.
"So, whut was ye a-talkin to mah pa fer?" he asked.
"No reason," the girl said quickly. "he just asked me to give you that."
"Yeah right!" Four Way Shot said equally as fast. "Come on, ye kin a-tell me."
"Never you mind," the girl said. "you best run on and do that list, your father says for them to be done by three."
"Ye been a-smoochin' mah pa?" Four Way Shot asked, walking forward and leaning against a stall, trying to turn on some of his boyish charm.
"No Four Way," she said. "run along now."
"Alrighty," Four Way Shot said. He walked a few steps then stopped and turned his head, smiling just as evilly as his father. "jus' ye remember that I a-gots the eyes o' a hawk."