Bare Feet & Cowboy Boots

Horse Poop & Stable Talks

"To know he can trust you." He removed his hand from hers and stepped to the side as she continued to pet the horse. She inwardly sighed at not having him close to her anymore. "Spitfire don't do well with strangers."

Nodding, she chose to ignore the change in his diction. "So he takes after his owner?"

From her peripheral, she saw him roll his eyes at her. "Ha... funny."

Moving her hand to scratch underneath the horse's jaw, Spitfire lifted his nose upward a bit to give her more access. He closed his eyes like had done for Soul a few minutes earlier; the small action made her smile. "But he's much sweeter than you."

Soul snorted. "That's because you only just met him."

"Oh, so he does take after his owner after all?"

"I thought you forgave me for being a douche."

"I did, but that doesn't mean I can't keep reminding you."

"The idea of forgiving someone is that you don't bring up the reason you forgave them."

Maka licked her lips and dropped her hand away from Spitfire who wasted no time in nudging her hand in a fashion similar to a dog begging for more scratches. She mindlessly did as the horse wished as her and Soul stood there in silence. Originally she hadn't come over to ridicule Soul and remind him of his behavior from the first night. It was more with the intention of seeing the horse because she had never seen one up close before unless it was in her picture books when she was a child.

"He's really pretty," she commented. Soul hummed beside her. "What kinda horse is he?"

"A quarter horse. Same kind that played Black Beauty in the movie."

"I take it he isn't a racing horse, though." She smiled when he stared at her, eyes wide in surprise. "You know that phase girls in elementary go through? Where they're either horse fanatics or into wolves? I was the horse fanatic."

"I see. So you know a little bit 'bout horses?"

"I always insisted Mama bought me the folders with the pretty horse pictures on front for school so I could read the blurbs about horses on the inside."

"Cute," he half-smiled. "But, yea, Spitfire's more of a cowing horse. That's what Blake, our horse wrangler on the property and another rancher, calls him anyways."

"What's a cowing horse?"

"It's Blake's way of sayin' he's a cuttin' horse. Basically Spitfire knows how to control cows."

"And I take that that's a good thing?"

"Comes in handy when we have to brand the cows, and if I ever wanna do cow roping at the rodeo, I already got a horse for that. Just gotta train him."

"Oh," she baby talked toward Spitfire, "so you really are better than your owner."

"He's not better than me," Soul defended.

"But he does all the work."

"I do some stuff."

"Like what? Sit on him while he does all the work?" she smiled. Soul opened his mouth to say something, but closed it and huffed, hunching over the fence in defeat. Maka giggled and scratched underneath Spitfire's chin. "That's what I thought."

He seemed to pout harder as he rested his foot on the fence once again, and mumbled, "I'm also needed like the horse."

"Are you really really acting like a baby? I thought you were twenty-eight, not four," Maka teased.