|
|
Post by desired on Jun 29, 2012 22:22:41 GMT -6
The road is long that leads us nowhere
985
OUTFITS OPEN. So, I know cows aren’t normally in the barn, but I had too.
The Sawyer brothers hadn’t gone riding together in ages. The last time was the day before the summer season had started. After that, they’d been busy working on summer homework and working through problems their Uncle wanted them to. Spies, he said, never had time to relax. Cole and Logan took the responsibility seriously, even though that sometimes seemed to surprise people. Cole wanted the action and the glory of saving the world, Logan wanted to help make the world his brother saved a better place by stopping the bad things.
The one other thing they had in common, other than big hearts, the desire to be a part of espionage, and an intense hatred of pickles, was horses. From the first day the brothers had laid eyes on an equine, they had forged ahead as two brothers would. Cole chose crazier and crazier events before he finally found his niche in cutting and penning. Logan was gentle and yet firm enough to get superb reactions from the toughest cow horse. Together, they made a hell of a roping team. Of course, it was just the two of them, something they did in such perfect unison that they’d never thought of competing.
It was just something the two of them did. Cole was sitting atop his red mare, Devastation. She lived up to her name and her owner. Logan was astride Hothead, a relationship that still baffled Cole. In his mind, Cole and Devastation were alike, so he understood everything she did, why she mostly fought instead of running, which was most definitely against her instincts. What he didn’t understand was how a hot-tempered, irritable stallion turned into a beautiful machine when his brother was riding.
But none of that mattered. What mattered was how well they worked together. Once the calf went, and Logan had only persuaded their Uncle to part with one, Cole corralled the bawling thing into the chute and held the rope in his hand. When he pulled it, that’s when the action began. The calf would charge, aiming to run from these terrifying men and back to the trailer, to safety.
And Hothead and Devastation went to work. In Logan’s mind, he wasn't the leader, the horses were. While Cole and Dev tore up the ground after the calf, Hothead and he started for its’ head. Rope in hand, Logan would trust Hothead, the grumpy and young stallion, to know what to do. He swung the lasso true, the coiled rope snapping around the calf’s head.
At the same time, Cole and Devastation were right behind them, herding the calf towards the black stallion and Logan’s waiting rope. Once the calf was caught around the head, Cole had split seconds to unfurl his lasso and snap it around the calf’s tiny, flailing hooves. This was a good run, as most of theirs were, and his rope stretched the calf’s legs back as he pulled Dev to a stop. Logan made Hothead step forward, which wasn't what they always did. For team roping, the calf had to endure a few moments of stretching, but they wanted to keep this calf fresh for a few more runs.
Cole slid off his mare, a bright smile on his face. He grabbed the calf’s back legs in a firm grip. He wasn’t letting go. He slipped off his lasso and with Logan’s help, half-dragged, half-carried the calf back to the chute, where the tiny thing received a small piece of hay from Logan.
Cole pretended not to notice. By now, he was used to his younger brother’s affectionate ways and knew better than to mention them. That was just what made him Logan. He glanced at his stopwatch and whistled, instead. He slapped his taller brother on the shoulder,
“Damn, that was good.” He tossed Logan the stopwatch.
Logan read it and laughed, a head-tilted backwards laugh. That was something rare, the complete relaxation of Logan Sawyer. At school, people always questioned Cole just how come Logan was so quiet and ‘scary’. Cole couldn’t explain that Logan just wasn’t a talker and the only thing scary about him was that he didn’t know he could be. Cole still had a lot of bruises from their Jiu Jitsu lessons.
Logan shook his head, “Didn’t think we still had it in us.”
Cole snorted, “Shoot, little brother, we’ll always have it in us. This little poke had no chance.”
Hothead snuffled Logan’s hip in search of apple crisps while Devastation ignored all of Cole’s attempts to call her. The elder brother rolled his eyes and huffed, but his grin kept him from appearing too angry. He finally reached the stubborn mare and patted her shoulder as he rubbed her nose. It was the only thing she’d accept as an award. Cole understood.
Logan didn’t. Devastation was as much a mystery as, he felt sometimes, his brother was. How could such a tough and definitely going to excel spy student and all around partier and prankster, care and understand that much about a horse? Devastation had been rescued from an abusive owner. And it had been Cole that had rehabilitated her and taught her cutting and penning. It was the only thing Cole did competitively, on a horse that is. But it was something Devastation seemed to made for and Cole had uncovered that. If anyone had doubted the two were related, seeing that and knowing that both of them had huge hearts behind a tough façade and a melancholy one, would leave no doubts.
The two of them turned and smiled at each other. Cole grabbed the gate rope in his hand and offered his brother a smile. Logan smiled back and nodded. The calf started out the gate. The horses took off. Even if they were training to be spies, this was the peace both needed after a long day of hard work.
But I'm strong enough to carry him. He ain't heavy, he's my brother [/size][/color][/blockquote] |
|
