Author's Note: This story couldn't have been written without my good friend Rick who, without his sense of humor and his individual flair for writing that sends me into trembling antics; I dedicate this Texas-based story!
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It was a gorgeous early evening, akin to most of the days in Texas, if you could stand the heat and she wanted to get in one last ride today before it got too late and she got caught out in the dark. Saddling up her Arabian gelding and checking the cinch one last time, Mindy Cannon practically threw herself up into the saddle without much propelling from her feet and settled in with a grin. There wasn't much that could beat the feeling of strong muscles rippling between your legs and the surge of power she felt when she eased her horse into a canter and headed out towards her new neighbor's ranch.
Mindy enjoyed moments like this... where nothing else was hindering her movements except the stride length of the horse beneath her and the gelding was tearing up ground in much the same manner that people paid good hard-earned money to watch on the NASCAR race tracks. But here, there was nothing to stop the rush of adrenaline coupled with the wind that stung at blue eyes twinkling with the sense of freedom she felt as she thundered across the hilly plains. The wind whistling through her honey hinted strands of auburn that whipped out behind her like a curtain of flame, she turned her mount slightly northward as she headed towards the next ranch, thinking it was only polite to stop by for a visit to her new neighbor.
Rick Williams pulled the stiff hat from his head with his left hand and wiped his brow slowly, using the wide brim of the hat to shield his eyes from the blistering sun. An Englishman in Texas; they never would have believed it back home, but sometimes, as he had advised many in the past, you have to follow your dreams, no matter how crazy they seem. The townsfolk were still getting used to the strange man who had to ask about the most common items as if they were from a different planet and he was so used to people enquiring about his accent now that he had caught himself ending sentences with "or do you want me to say that again?" The sun beat down on him harder than he had ever felt before and a newfound respect for the cowboys of old welled up inside him. Shoving the hat back onto his head, he wiped the sweat from his bare torso and stared off into the distance, suddenly missing the closeness of the city where a neighbor would call without warning. Here, it felt like such a social visit would be a planned expedition.
Rick looked back at the bales of hay still needing to be moved and sauntered over to them. 'Saunter,' he mused, 'Hell, I'm in Texas. I gotta learn to swagger. ' The grip of the boots on his feet dug into the dirt and watched the horizon bob up and down against his eye line as he moved. The sweat was now running down his back so fast it was as if someone had found a bad faucet and decided to break it completely. As his hands dove down into the straw, muscles strained slowly as he lifted the bale and found that the fifteenth DID feel heavier than the first. He was stopped in motion by the sheer beauty of the landscape around him. England had been such a flat grey country really; the scenery was so compressed together that the whole island felt as if it had been rushed together quickly. But here... here everything seemed to take its time, even the horizon was in no hurry to meet the ground, and the ground was in no hurry to clutter itself with little grey housing estates. The bale in his hands, he carried it over towards the barn.
Spurring her horse with just a quick squeeze of her legs, Mindy rode him up the crest of the last hill that separated her ranch from her destination and pulled her mount up short, causing the horse to rear up just enough to make her smile. Leaning down some, she affectionately rubbed his shoulder as he blew heavily, clearing his nostrils of dust as she surveyed the ranch below. It had been rumored that some hotshot from England had moved into the ranch that she had hoped to purchase and add onto her own small space in order to open up the territory even more. But here it sat, in some man's hands that probably didn't know the first thing about Texas, much less ranching and she drew in a deep breath as her hair settled around her shoulders and spoke to her horse in a soft, but cynical tone, "I bet he's some old fart that doesn't even like to be outside. "
As Rick deposited the bale just outside the barn, he plunked himself down on it, resting his hands on his knees and leaned forward as he realized that he was moving bales of hay around. It wasn't the realization of what he was doing that struck him, but the fact that he was doing it and he wasn't entirely sure why. Too many cowboy movies growing up perhaps; tonight he could sit around eating beans and recreating the scene in Blazing Saddles. That thought set him laughing out loud; the looks on the faces of the townsfolk as the black sheriff had ridden into town were no different from the looks he had received each time he had spoken to someone. Pulling a cigarette from the paper pack stuffed into his belt, he lit it as he wondered just what the natives were like around here. So far, the people he had met had all seemed polite, but something always felt artificial about it. A good friend had assured him that Texans were just very friendly people and "you're just a stuck up English fart" in the most reassuring manner possible.
Standing up in the stirrups some, Mindy could spy the movement of someone near the barn still a good distance away and settled back in the saddle as her tongue clucked gently against the roof of her mouth, sending her horse into a comfortable trot down the slope of the hill towards the ranch. She didn't want to come across as too bold coming up to her new neighbor at a hard gallop and as she drew closer, she began to make more out of him, somewhat surprised that England made them looking that good... strong and lean but an athletic build that filled out his Wranglers in all the right places and that bared chest. He didn't look half bad in his hat but one look at his new boots told anyone that had worked on a ranch that he was clearly new. They weren't even scuffed yet.
Pulling the cigarette from his mouth and staring at the end of it for a moment, Rick suddenly realized that sitting on a bale of hay with this thing was a fire risk waiting to happen. As he crushed it out under foot, his gaze wound up finding the figure moving towards him. A cowboy on a horse; how appropriate for his first visitor. Images of trying to make conversation with some slack jawed local yokel barraged his mind for a moment and he regretted having killed out the smoke. As he shuddered at the thought of hearing "ya'll are new 'round here" and pushing back to his feet, he determined to bite down on the stereotypes and show that the English also knew how to be warm and friendly. Warm and friendly seemed to take on a whole new life as it began to dawn on him that his approaching cowboy was not some tobacco chewing redneck with a narrow mind and a narrower forehead, but was in fact starting to resemble a very attractive cowgirl - or a very effeminate redneck with hair that seemed as free and easy as the rider appeared in the saddle.
Easing her horse into a walk as she approached the man, a warm smile bloomed upwards on Mindy's lips. She usually had a big laugh at people from other parts trying to "look" the part of a cowboy but she had to admit that he looked pretty good in a hat and as she pulled her horse up to a stop close enough that she could converse with him from the saddle until she was sure that she wasn't going to need a quick getaway, she leaned forward some, her forearm resting on the saddle horn as the animal's head bobbed up and down a bit and glanced to the Englishman rising from the bale of hay. Her eyes twinkled as she spoke in a soft drawl, "Hi... I'm Mindy and I'm from next door," thumbing her fist back over her shoulder a bit before continuing "I had heard someone had moved in and figured I would come say welcome to the neighborhood. "
Raising his right hand in a lazy greeting, Rick took a step towards her, feeling somewhat dwarfed by the way she towered over him in the saddle. "Hey... Rick... I mean, I'm Rick," he said slowly as he pushed the thumb of his right hand to his chest. He knew that trying to appear as if he had been caught off guard by her appearance was futile now and he curled up the corners of his mouth in the warmest smile he had in store. "It's kinda taking me sometime to adjust to the solitude here, realizing that my next door neighbor might be a twenty minute walk away. " Wondering if the fact he was speaking slower than his normal rhythm for the sake of clarity might leave her with the wrong impression, he offered his right hand up to her, trying to hide the tension that cut into the ease of his posture - horses were still not something he was truly comfortable around.