Tickin' Me Off {Mary}

[clilmonkey]

]

Arielle sighed thinking of the fight her and the horse she was handling where about to experience. Not that she cared all that much it’s just she didn’t feel like dealing with the shit that her horses dished out to her. Maybe it’s because she hadn’t been able to ride them for awhile. It was just irritating and very stupid. But she loved the Tobiano gelding all the same. She slid the thick black pad onto the geldings back before picking up an over pad with a rebel flag on it. She smiled setting it on the black pad, she pulled the large leather saddle off the ground and silently swung it on his back situating it so it fit the gelding comfortably. She ran a hand over the rich tan leather before brushing the dust off of the cream colored seat. The metal emblem sat embedded in the saddle near the horn. It read in shining silver letters, ‘Buffalo Saddler’. She pulled her red breast collar off the stall door situating on the rings it was meant to be on, snapping the other clip onto the girth. She then grabbed her blue sport boots quickly strapping them tightly to Tuckers legs. She slid the blue and red headstall over his ears he took the bit without a fuss, he had learned to take it quick seeing as before Arielle owned him he was abused, he learned to take it quick or be smacked if he refused but Ari used different tactics. She then lead him with her black reins to the outdoor arenas.

She threw the reins over his blocky head sliding her foot into the raw hide stirrup and swinging her other leg over. She walked him around the arena, the barrel pattern had already been set up but she could care less at the moment she was just trying to make him stop acting like the douche that he was. It was no excuse that he had been gelded late he could still mind his manners. Tucker lunged forward into a canter, his upbeat pace was one that made you keep on your guard or else you might find yourself on the ground. Tucker didn’t play games he only screwed with you. He was very picky about who rode him and he didn’t appreciate men very much. He had great cutting bloodlines but that wasn’t Arielle’s discipline of choice so he was easily changed into a barrel horse. He was a bit crazed seeing as he didn’t like to focus on anything but running.

She stopped Tuck Tuck in front of the barrels in line with the third barrel she nudged him pulling her reins for him to back up so she could gain control of the jerk. He did something that made Arielle want to strangle him. He reared straight up, she leaned up holding onto his sorrel mane. “Fucker Tucker! Your such a douche!” she yelled the horses feet coming back in contact with the ground before they where back up again this time he hopped up off his back legs almost standing in mid air. He stopped immediately when she popped him on the shoulder with her barrel whip. He was always like this and their was no excuse for it this time. He wasn’t blown up but he seemed to just not be able to express his emotions without rearing or taking off. And it was beginning to piss Arielle off.
tagged. Salem
outfit. click.
notes. Pretty crappy
credits. carolyn's sweet blasphemy *

[m4ry23]

hold tight with a leather fist;

<sub>A whistle echoed throughout the barn, to the tune of a Josh Turner song "Eye Candy", with every step he took a ring of spur rowels followed. He walked up to the stall of a stocky gray Quarter Horse, the mare definitely built to work. She was about fifteen-two hands high, muscled out and lean. She was a power house roper, and Lane loved to ride her and rope off her. He had won many titles on her, and he ususally kept her off as much as he could, not wanting to work her too hard. She had proven herself enough times to know that she was reliable enough for anything. He grabbed the halter that was rested on a hook outside the door, his boots sinking into the deep, fresh shavings in the stall. His hand raised up to her darker muzzle, the mare dropping it in and allowing him to put on the halter. She was one of those horses that loved to be doted over, and she loved to work even more. She was an all around package.

Lane walked out of the stall, the black lead rope in his hand and Senorita Duster, or Dusty, following behind at a slow walk. He walked her into the cross ties, not even bothering to hook her up to the ties, just throwing the lead rope over her neck. She knew better then to walk away; she was ranch raised and bred afterall. Lane grabbed a soft brush, brushing it over her dappled coat and letting it shine. He liked his horses to look like perfection, show sheening them and braiding their manes and tails before they went out. Not to mention the braids had other purposes, like not dalying her mane in his rope and ripping it out. He braided her black mane quickly, making sure it would not get caught in his dally while they were practicing, and then he braided her tail, just so it would stay full and beautiful.

Lane walked to the tack room, grabbing his Professional's Choice Air Ride pad and throwing it over her back, following it by roping saddle that said "Champioin Heeler, Wayne Brooks Invitational" on the fender. He cinched up the mare, bringing his thick leather breast collar around her stocky chest and buckling it on the D-ring and onto the girth. He did up his back cinch, leaving a little room just because he liked them looser. He grabbed his headstall and tie-down, throwing them onto the big saddle horn and then reaching to grab his bell boots and SMB2's that were velcrowed onto his stirrup. He squated down, wrapping the black Professional Choice No Turns around his horses pasturns, and then followed with the SMB2's. He was sponsored by Professional Choice, so that was all he wore, not to mention he got it all for free which was totally a bonus. As he stood back up, his calloused hand gently patted the mares round haunches. He really did love this horse with a passion, she was just such a great all-around mare. He calf-roped and team roped off of her, and she tolerated everything he threw her way. Not to mention she was not very mareish at all, only when he gave her over a week off with NO work would she attempt to buck at all, except when he suprred her very hard, though that was also rare. She did not need much discipline.

His hand rest on her forehead, his large fingers tangled in her thin black forelock. That seemed to be the only place her hair would not grow thick and lush, it was kind of funny to Lane. He grabbed his leathe tie-down and leather headstall, pulling them over Dusty's head, the mare eagerly accepting the curb that was on the headstall. He pulled his tie-down through a loop in his breastcollar and then buckled it between her front legs on the girth, fixing the lime green Steer Gear rope that was on the saddle, unbuckling one side of his cottom roping reins and throwing the halter onto the ground to the side and walking down barn aisle to the outdoor arena.

Once outside the barn, he brought the reins over her head again, clipping the reins back to the shank of the bit. He put his Justin Boot into the left stirrup, pulling himself up with ease, swinging his right leg over and landing gently into the Billy Cook trophy saddle, taking his right stirrup. He let the mare walk out to the arena as he settled into the saddle, his dark brown Cinch jeans hugged around his waist and a tooled leather belt kept them in place around his hips, a shiny silver belt buckle buckled them together. A long sleeved white Cinch tee-shirt hugged his muscular arms, and a straw hat topped his head.

His green eyes glanced around as he entered the arena, seeing barrels set up, but the roping dummy at the end of the arena near the roping boxes. He picked up his reins, asking the mare to go into a gentle trot, the mare did as she was told, the trot so smooth Lane barely even moved. His hand dropped down her neck, making sure he didn't have too much contact. Lane knew how to ride, he was not just one of those cowboys that hung out long enough to rope. He was born and raise on a ranch, and he had been breaking colts since he was 12. It came naturally to him, the whole horsemen ship thing, there was just a connection there that was hard to doubt. Lane smirked a bit, remembering his first little rope pony that was a fuzz ball from hell. The little shit never used to cooperate, rearing and bucking and refusing to go through the barrier, or just running full blast so Lane missed the calve. He laughed a big to himself as he trotted around the arena, engulfed in thoughts of younger days.

Lanes thoughts were soon interupted by the sound of a girlish yell, saying something about fucker. Lane shook his head, lifting the reins slightly and barely pulling back. The mare slid to a halt, her head plunging towards her chest as she backed up a few steps. His right leg gently bumped her with his spur as he brought the reins towards the left, the mare obedietly spinning on her haunches to face where the noise came from. He kissed, the mare taking off into a rocking horse lope towards the girl who's horse was rearing up. He saw it all too much with barrel horses, his sisters barrel horses do the same damn thing sometimes. He broke the mare to her gentle trot as he approached, his eyes meeting the blondes. "You alright ma'am?" he asked, his southern Texas accent beaming when he spoke. Dusty stopped when asked, standing quietly as Lane dropped the reins and leaned onto his saddle horn with his elbow to rest it there.</sub>

watch out when he starts to twist!

[clilmonkey]

]

Arielle was relieved that she had not been wearing her spurs seeing as that only made the sorrel painted gelding more jumpy. If Tucker wasn’t so damn good at his job he would have been sold awhile ago. He wasn’t all that tall but he could sure move, if you thought size mattered for speed then you haven’t met Tuck. The fourteen three hand jerk of a horse was an ideal mount for barrel racing. He made it to the big leagues once or twice in the four years Arielle had owned him. He could haul it when he needed too, little encouragement was needed to get the gelding to run full out. He would run balls to the wall, only to slide stop on a dime at the end of the arena. Arielle wasn’t really one to stick to one riding discipline she rode western most of the time as it was like a second nature to her. She only rode English when she was trying to get a break from riding western. The thing she liked most about her horses was that their legs where solid enough to where they could be ridden multiple times a week without going lame. See Danny, Arielle’s younger, sister had a quarter horse, Arabian mare named Dixie which the little mare of thirteen three hands tall had some problems. She went gimpy if she was ridden too much every week, or if her legs where stretched with the saddle on. She is such an odd horse. But all in all the small horses they had proved themselves money earners all the same even with their attitudes, with how much money they earned the girls had learned to tolerate their jerk nature. She slid her hand onto the top of her saddle horn. Picking at the leather that surrounded the silver emblem. For some reason it irritated her that the leather around the rim of the horn had started to split. She held the pitch black barrel reins in her left hand, moving her right hand from the top of the horn to on the geldings white mane lacing her fingers into it, she un weaved her fingers freeing her hand from the geldings thick mane.. The horse had so many issues whatever was done his attitude never really change. Although he did start to act better after she took him to the chiropractor. They had found that he had some problems with the right side of his hind end. When she had sent him to the trainers they had apparently worked him to hard sending it out of whack. Of course that might be his problem now. Then again she had checked him over the day before, and he couldn’t do all that much to himself while he’s in his stall. She never really understood the reason why he had such an attitude problem but if it kept going on she wasn’t going to tolerate it. Tucker backed up head tucked until he was almost touching the fence. She had to say at least he even backed up she had to give him that. She watched as some blonde kid on a drop dead gorgeous grey mare ride over, Tucker was still moving uncontrollably. Well maybe she shouldn’t refer to everybody as a kid cause he was probably her age or maybe a little older. She looked over at him stormy grey eyes glimmered with a hint of curiosity. Tucker thought about lunging forward but Arielle was already ahead of the game. She slid her hand down on the rein pulling his head to the side, and nailing him in the side with the heel of her boot. She gritted her teeth. “Just fine.” she stated sarcasm filled her voice. She stopped him turning to look at the blonde boy who was probably still watching her, giving Tuck just enough time to rear up leaping forward and unseating Arielle. She slid off the back landing on her backside. Letting out a deep breaths, Tucker had walked a few steps away and was now craning his neck to look at the girl he had just dropped. She glared at him Tucker turning back around pupils getting bigger. “Well that’s a great first impression isn’t it? Having a flippin’ short ass paint horse throw me. I have never understood why I fall off my mare and my gelding but never off my studs.” she looked up at the blonde haired boy before whistling. Tucker lowered his head and cautiously walked toward her. She held her hand out, his pink muzzles sniffing it before she rubbed his face. “At least you love.” She smiled. She brushed her hands off on her pants before running a hand through her bleach blonde hair."I'm Arielle, you?"
tagged. MARY! & Lane
outfit. click.
notes. Pretty crappy
credits. carolyn's sweet blasphemy *

[m4ry23]

hold tight with a leather fist;

<sub>People usually hated mares because of their bitchy attitudes, but Lane adored them because of their work ethic. He didn't mind when they had mood swings and decided to be pissy and try to buck; he loved the way that they did whatever he wanted, no matter how tired they were. He was pretty sure his mares would die before they quit, just like Lane would. He had a little colt and a reining stud, but they just never seemed to want to work as much as his two mares. No doubt his colt had a good work ethic and was coming along as a fine rope horse, and his stallion was a magnificant reiner that did a great job in the arena, but his mare were the super stars, the super athletes.

He had one mare, Thug Nasty aka G, whom was the biggest bitch on the planet. She often bucked in the warm up, and if she had not been roped off of in a week before a rodeo, she would jump the barrier or brake it on purpose. She was snarky, but when Lane kept her on a good program, she was a prefect roper that hated people. She was one of those horses who would rather work and not be doted over and pet on. She hated it, and would often bite at you when you tried to just groom her and love on her. No doubt Lane loved the mare, he just knew better than to do anything like flailing over how amazing she was. He knew to treat her like a work animal that he cared about. G was the polar oppisite of the gray mare he was riding currently, Dusty.

Dusty was a mare that was super athletic and built to work. She was bred to be a cutter, but she never took the arena BS. She instead enjoyed roping, and her short yet stock stature helped out Lane a lot. She was easy to get off of, quick, cowy, and engaged off her back end like no other. Lane called her bootylicious sometimes. He adored the mare, she was one of his first rope horses that he bought himself, and he had won many titles on her through out their career together. He only took her to PRCA rodeo's, not bothering to take her to any of the smaller ones becuase it was a waste of her talent. He was picky about the mare, but anyone who was around them knew they had a freaky bond.

Lane's green eyes watched the blond girl on the little paint horse fighting. It reminded him of G, only G knew better then act a complete ass hole. She always just told her opinon of Lane, but never acted that bad. He let out a small sigh, his sister did barrels too, but she didn't like the little horses. She was one for the tall, appendix bred Quarter Horses who had the speed of a Thoroughbred, but the build of a Quarter Horse and ability to turn tight. It seemed to work for his sister, because she was College Rodeoing and winning a lot of titles and money. Being from a successful rodeo family also put on added pressure to do your absolute best and nothing but it.

Lane listened as the girl answered his question, noticing the sarcasm and lifting his right eyebraw. "I see," he replied, his eyes falling to the small paint infront of him. Dusty was only a little bit taller, she stood about 15.0 herself. Lane watched the action unfront infront of him, Dusty not moving as the girl slid to the ground onto her ass. Lane was ready to get off and help, but when the girl got up and seemed okay, he couldn't help but laugh silently to himself. He laughed at himself when he fell off too, he hoped the girl wouldn't take offense to the small chuckle. He listened to her, his shoulders shrugging when she spoke of first impressoins. "Meh, first impressions can tell lies. And I don't think gender has anything to do with it. I can put little children on my stud, but I wouldn't dare put one on one of my mares. Its all in training, not saying anything against your training, but thats where it all comes down too. Unless your horse is a basket case and he doesn't seem that crazy," he replied.

He wasn't a fan of Barrel horses in particular, just because he thought the sport was useless. His sister did it, but he never really understood the thrill of running three metal cans. He wouldn't dare say anything about it to a barrel racer, his mom and sister were quick to grab his tounge when he tried to say something bad. So he just kept his opinions to himself about the sport. He smiled and gently tipped his hat as she introduced herself, Arielle. "Pleasure to meet you, Arielle. I'm Lane Brooks," he replied. He was used to announcing his whole name, because usually he was talking to customers or clients or fans.</sub>

watch out when he starts to twist!