John Marston (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
bornuntotrouble) wrote2012-08-15 01:23 pm
bornuntotrouble) wrote2012-08-15 01:23 pm
Women and Cattle
In retrospect, John really hadn’t known what he was getting himself into when he’d agreed to help Miss MacFarlane take the herd out to pasture.
Not that the landscape wasn’t something to behold (it was – scrub brush and trees dotted the plains under a clear blue sky) or that Miss MacFarlane was anything less than a pleasure to work with (she was – even if she was a bit insistent on being called ‘Bonnie’)…
…but by God the cows were difficult.
It’d taken over an hour in the mid-July sun for him, Miss MacFarlane, and the ranch hands to herd them out to the pasture out by the old oak tree, and John was sure that they’d yet to invent a word for just how foul he must have smelled. Beneath him, Kipper, the Cleveland Bay Miss MacFarlane had loaned him, whickered, swiping at the flies buzzing around his backside with his tail.
“Mister Marston.”
John looked up. Bonnie was sauntering over on her own horse. He tipped his hat.
“Miss MacFarlane.”
She groaned. “How many times do I have to say ‘call me Bonnie’ ‘fore it sticks, y’damn fool?”
He smiled. “Honestly, Miss MacFarlane, more times than you’ve got the patience for.”
She shook her head. “I don’t doubt it. How’s Kipper treatin’ you?”
John shrugged, leaning forward in the saddle to give him a scratch behind the ears. “Well, so far. He’s a fine animal, Miss MacFarlane.”
She nodded. “Raised him myself. He was a mean colt, but he’s calmed down some.”
“That he has, Miss MacFarlane, that he has.”
She nodded.
“So, how’s it going?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How’s what going?”
“Whatever it is you’re doing here.”
John leaned forward in the saddle. “Well, I think it’s going well. We got the herd out to pasture-”
“Not that. Williamson.”
Oh.
“I’m at a bit of an – impasse – on that.”
She nodded. “You think about goin’ to the Marshal?”
“The Marshal? Where?”
Now it was her turn to cock a brow. “In Armadillo. Leigh Johnson. You mean you didn’t see him?”
“To be honest, Miss MacFarlane, I was a little preoccupied.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Some eagle-eyed cowboy you are. Well, listen, why don’t you try going to him for help? I’ve heard he’s rather proficient at shootin’ folk. Maybe he could lend you a hand, you ever decide to try bein’ a hero again.”
He chuckled, tipped his hat. “I’ll bear that in mind, Miss MacFarlane.”
“Bonnie. B-O-N-N-I-E.”
Not that the landscape wasn’t something to behold (it was – scrub brush and trees dotted the plains under a clear blue sky) or that Miss MacFarlane was anything less than a pleasure to work with (she was – even if she was a bit insistent on being called ‘Bonnie’)…
…but by God the cows were difficult.
It’d taken over an hour in the mid-July sun for him, Miss MacFarlane, and the ranch hands to herd them out to the pasture out by the old oak tree, and John was sure that they’d yet to invent a word for just how foul he must have smelled. Beneath him, Kipper, the Cleveland Bay Miss MacFarlane had loaned him, whickered, swiping at the flies buzzing around his backside with his tail.
“Mister Marston.”
John looked up. Bonnie was sauntering over on her own horse. He tipped his hat.
“Miss MacFarlane.”
She groaned. “How many times do I have to say ‘call me Bonnie’ ‘fore it sticks, y’damn fool?”
He smiled. “Honestly, Miss MacFarlane, more times than you’ve got the patience for.”
She shook her head. “I don’t doubt it. How’s Kipper treatin’ you?”
John shrugged, leaning forward in the saddle to give him a scratch behind the ears. “Well, so far. He’s a fine animal, Miss MacFarlane.”
She nodded. “Raised him myself. He was a mean colt, but he’s calmed down some.”
“That he has, Miss MacFarlane, that he has.”
She nodded.
“So, how’s it going?”
He quirked an eyebrow. “How’s what going?”
“Whatever it is you’re doing here.”
John leaned forward in the saddle. “Well, I think it’s going well. We got the herd out to pasture-”
“Not that. Williamson.”
Oh.
“I’m at a bit of an – impasse – on that.”
She nodded. “You think about goin’ to the Marshal?”
“The Marshal? Where?”
Now it was her turn to cock a brow. “In Armadillo. Leigh Johnson. You mean you didn’t see him?”
“To be honest, Miss MacFarlane, I was a little preoccupied.”
She shook her head, smiling. “Some eagle-eyed cowboy you are. Well, listen, why don’t you try going to him for help? I’ve heard he’s rather proficient at shootin’ folk. Maybe he could lend you a hand, you ever decide to try bein’ a hero again.”
He chuckled, tipped his hat. “I’ll bear that in mind, Miss MacFarlane.”
“Bonnie. B-O-N-N-I-E.”