tell me why *{open

[Clara Baker]

It was a beautiful afternoon as Clara placed a red saddle pad upon her stallion's back. She hoisted up the saddle and cinched it snugly. Clara slipped his bridle on after feeding him a carrot, and then made sure his breast plate wasn't too tight. "All right, bud, let's head out," she said, pulling her blond hair up with a blue and white checked ribbon. She readjusted her hat before swinging up into the saddle. With a nudge from her heels, the stallion started out walking down the dirt road that leads to the main trail to get to the Sunshine Springs.

When they reached the road, Clara cued with one leg for a canter. Dakota sprung into the three-beated gait with ease and eagerness. "Good boy," Clara said with a slight smile. The sun was shining brightly and there were few clouds in the sky. The smell of wildflowers and pure air sparked her senses as they cantered through the tall grasses. She slowed him to a trot as they came upon more precarious footing. Dakota had the smoothest trot of any horse Clara had ever ridden. He picked through the rocks slowly but surely until they were clear of the unlevel terrain.

As they came upon the springs, Clara hopped off her stallion and walked to the edge of the spring. Dakota followed as he always did. She stopped and took the canteen off of her saddle horn and dipped it into the spring. After it filled she took a few gulps, refilled it, and then put it back on her saddle horn. The blue roan stallion lowered his head to drink from the springs as well. Clara sighed with a smile and sat down in the grass as Dakota began to graze. He had a hackmore as he didn't really need a bit. Clara leaned back and laid down, closing her eyes. She could feel the sunlight on her skin, warming it pleasantly. She had quite the life...

[Trevor Hurrington]

It had been only a few days since Trevor Hurrington... known only as Trey by the people he had met, had had arrived in Whispering Springs, and he had made quite the entrance if I do say so myself. Showing up in the heat of the day from the wilderness with a pullet lodged in his shoulder, half dead, with a second horse and a dog trailing along beside him, all four of them suffering from heat stroke. He certainly knew how to make an interesting first impression on people, though he couldn't exactly say that he had intended to. All he'd done was pull himself up onto his horse and let the animal wander at his own free will, and he was lucky enough that the mustang was smart enough to seek out people and water.

So far, Trevor was liking what he had seen of this small town. Indy had helped him when he had first arrived, for which he was quite grateful and had determined that he was now in debt to her. He hadn't quite regained his full strength after losing so much blood, but he was 100 times better today than he had been when he first arrived. At this point in time, Trevor had figured that no one knew of the infamous Trevor Hurrington from Oklahoma here, and that was a very good thing, and he was thinking that if he could find himself a job, he just might settle here and make a better name for himself than his family had made for him. So he figured if he was going to live here, it would probably be a good idea to explore the area a bit.

It was a relatively simple choice between Nevada, the aging quarter horse, and Mustang, the spry little mustang he'd trained himself. Nevada was a good horse, but he was getting old, and Trevor didn't want to risk coming to a steep incline that the horse couldn't make it up. Mustang could literally go anywhere you wanted him to go, so naturally the smaller horse was Trevor's choice of mount. He saddle up the bay with the sort of quickness he'd learned when he'd been among the lawless of the land, and headed out into the surrounding area, leaving Trip there to keep Nevada company while they were away.

Everything around here was simply beautiful, he'd never seen a place quite like it, and considering he had traveled all this way from Oklahoma on horse back, that was saying a lot. He had covered a lot of country in those few years. From the mountains to the valleys, everything just seemed so peaceful inviting, almost like this state was just telling him that he should live here and it would treat him well. They had been out for some time, moving no faster than a walk just so they could take in the country, and Mustang was starting to get his own ideas about where they should go, and Trevor knew why.

The little bay horse was an extremely intelligent animal, considering most of his life had been spent surviving in the wilderness with the other wild horses, and he knew what he wanted and where to get it. Right now, Trevor was guessing that Mustang was getting thirsty and there was water nearby that he wanted to get at, so he gave the horse a free rein, and let him go on his own way. Just as the water and the cliff wall that was rather nearby came into view, Mustang stopped in his tracks and stood with his nostrils flared, ears pricked, and eyes wide. Trevor followed the horse's line of view and noticed the girl and her horse near the spring.

She appeared to have her eyes closed... perhaps sleeping, and the last thing Trevor wanted was to surprise her and give her a heart attack, so he tightened up on the reins, just to make sure Mustang wouldn't go down there. He was unsure if he should make his way to the spring and let Mustang have his drink, or if they should just go on back to town and let the horse drink at the livery... so in his indecision, he just kept the horse standing where he was, hoping that somehow his decision would be made a little easier in the next moment or two.

[Clara Baker]

The heat of the direct sun was making her almost uncomfortable, so she sat up quietly and rolled up her white sleeves. She gazed at her stallion who was contentedly grazing. With a smile she scanned the horizon to her left, seeing nothing but the beautiful landscape. Her green eyes returned to Dakota, and he was looking towards the right. Slightly alarmed, Clara stood and brushed the dry grass off her jeans. She turned to where her horse was looking and saw a small bay animal carrying a man.

Clara wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but this unfamiliar team did make her wary. She walked cautiously to Dakota and took a hold of the leather split reins. When she was sure that the other person wasn't going to make any threatening moves, she placed a foot in the stirrup and walked Dakota closer to them and up the small hill. "Hey there, stranger," she said carefully in a friendly, though not exceptionally so, tone. Her eyes wandered over him and his horse. The small bay looked very sturdy and sound, which most of the time pointed towards a knowledgable rider. So her thoughts told her that he probably wasn't some backwoods bum that wandered aimlessly around.

Clara had been in Whispering Oaks for four years now, and all of them had been pleasant. But lately the local Indians were threatening to start a conflict. Clara wanted no part in it and just wanted her father's ranch to remain a sort of safe zone for both parties. The stupid thing was that they hadn't presented a reason for wanting to fight with the residents. So you can see how Clara was slightly nervous when a stranger on horseback had appeared on the hill. "Are you from this area?" she asked. Because she was from Boston, her speech still held the more refined sound, but other than that, someone wouldn't be able to tell her origins. Montana had changed her for the better, and Clara thoroughly enjoyed it.

[Trevor Hurrington]

Trevor was sometimes just a bit too stealthy for his own good. He wasn't trying to be, it was just how he naturally was. He grew up having to be stealthy, either to get around unfriendly Indians or to sneak up on their next victims. Outlaws were a lot like a winter wind. They came and went leaving no traces behind on the unmarred landscape. They were quiet and quick, did their work and disappeared... at least that's how the outlaws he'd been with did it. They weren't into destroying things too often but on occasion they would roll into a town and cause a lot of havoc and then leave, perhaps taking a few women with them to do the unspeakable to.

Trevor had never really been into all that. He had a bit more respect for people, especially women, than most people of the outlaw world did... that was why he left, or was trying to leave anyway. He'd finally decided at 17 that the life of an outlaw wasn't what he wanted, so he up and left, putting as much distance between himself and the people he called his family as he possibly could. It was three years since he left now, and he had definitely accomplished the goal of getting far away from Oklahoma, a fact of which he was well pleased. He wasn't going back to that life, even if every society shunned him and pushed him away.

He couldn't help but take note of her caution, although he didn't blame her for it. There were probably a lot of dangerous people around that a lone woman wouldn't want to run into out this far from town. Trevor definitely had no bad intentions though... just getting to know the lay of the land and coming in to let his horse get a drink. She couldn't know that though, so again, he didn't blame her for her caution. Hell, he was a guy and he was cautious of strangers that came on him all of a sudden... but considering he'd been shot not too long ago by someone he'd never seen in his life, he supposed he had good reason to be wary of strangers.

Truth be told... Trevor had sort of been a "backwoods bum that wandered aimlessly around" recently. For about the past year he had been living off the wild lands, avoiding people, and never staying in one place too long. It was dangerous, yes, considering a lone man with two good horses could be seen as a target by either outlaws or Indians that took interest in him, but he didn't really have a choice. Although "bum" wouldn't exactly describe him... he was a hard worker and a good hunter, everything he did he gave his all and never held back from doing his best. He definitely wasn't a bum.

He nodded slightly when the girl greeted him, as usual, only saying something when he had to. Of course he responded to her next question. No, not really, He said honestly, I just got here a few days ago... I guess I've been in Montana for a while though. Mustang was shifting a little uneasily under him, never comfortable around strangers or other stallions because of his wild instincts, but he was still listening to what Trevor was telling him, which was to stay there and not go anywhere. He might still have been a bit of a pain to handle, but he was a good horse, and he would listen. He'd had a good year or so of training and he was very willing to do as Trevor told him.

[Clara Baker]

Clara glanced down at her horse's neck, and she ran her fingers through his black mane. The other horse had a similar mane, maybe slightly shorter. She liked the look of the other stallion, and his rider wasn't too bad himself. Clara wondered why he had wandered upon the springs. They weren't exactly a land mark, and there weren't any wagon paths anywhere near. Then again, he could be thinking exactly the same thing. Not many women of her age and status would go around on horseback, not tot mention alone and without a gun. She had a small knife, but that could only do so much in certain situations.

The unknown person in front of her nodded in acknowledgement when she gave a simple greeting. At least he had some sense of politeness, or so it seemed at the moment. "Oh?" she said flatly. "You've been wandering, I suppose..." she said, trailing off at the end. Clara had never known that sensation to not really have a home. Even when she and her aunt and uncle were in the wagon coming here from Boston, she still had a sense of home. The wagon had been unusually comfortable, bedded down with down quilts and pillows. And lucky for Clara, her aunt, Virginia, had taught her how to cook. That was a talent she was still thankful for having today.

"Well, I'm Clara Baker, and this here is Dakota," she said with a tinge of that western accent. She offered a tanned hand out to him to shake, clutching the saddle horn with her free hand so as not to lose her balance. It's not that she was an unskilled horseman, but in case this stranger decided to pull something, she wanted to stay with Dakota when she gave him his nudge. The stallion was incredibly responsive to the slightest touch, so she had him well trained to respond from a left then right kick to, well, run like hell. It came in handy quite a few times. "Who might you be, stranger?"

[Trevor Hurrington]

Trevor was definitely starting to get the feeling that this girl didn't like him too much, and he was quiet ready to turn Mustang around and head back if she made any indication that she didn't want him to hang around. Trevor might not have been the most socially knowledgeable person in the whole world, but he did have manners by some miracle of nature, and he knew hot to be polite. Of course, he did have his parents to thank for that... they'd had virtually no manners or sense of politeness, and he mostly learned how to be polite just by recognizing that their behavior was not good and determining to do the opposite of what they did.

A few people in his travels, before they'd found out he had been an outlaw, had advised him that he needed to try to be a bit more sociable and friendly if he wanted people to like him... which of course was difficult for him, but he did try. Just trying to find a place to call home. He said as she commented that he had probably been wandering. That was his attempt at trying to make small talk, and come off as less of a vagabond than he probably appeared right now. He wasn't really just a wanderer, he was a guy just trying to find his place in the world, which was easier said than done.

I'm Trey... he said with a nod as she requested his name, and he doesn't really have a name, I've just always called him Mustang. He was, of course, hoping that moving on quickly to the fact that the horse didn't exactly have a name would distract her from the fact that he had given no last name. He didn't want to give his last name because... well he was rather ashamed of it. Being a Hurrington meant you were a dishonest pig with no objective in life but to steal, kill, destroy, ravage women, destroy lively hoods... he didn't want to be associated with them anymore, and not telling people his unshortened first name and avoiding his last name was just his way of staying away from them.

As he introduced himself he shifted his weight ever so slightly to balance himself out, and took her outreached hand in a firm grip, though it wasn't overly so as he knew that if you seemed to be attempting to squeeze the life out of someone's hand it could make the situation awkward, but if you took it like your hand was a dead limp fish, it would make it even more awkward... so he always went with an in between. After a quick shake that took hardly a moment, he let go of her hand, knowing all too well that a guy and a girl just meeting could be turned rather uncomfortable in an instant if the guy held onto the girl's hand too long. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea about him.

[Clara Baker]

A light, warm breeze blew across the plains, ruffling through Clara's blonde hair. She tucked a loose piece behind her ear, squinting in the sun at the man's face. He looked fairly genuine, but you never knew around there. Someone that looked nice enough to be a preacher could turn out to be your very worst enemy. Clara kept some open mindedness about this somewhat strange encounter, but she definitely had her guard up just in case something went wrong. Dakota could feel his rider's slight tenseness, and he shifted his weight uneasily.

She listened silently as he said that he was just trying to find home. With a half-smile, she nodded. It was a cautious expression, but not completely cold and unfeeling. He then introduced himself as Trey. Funny he shouldn't give a last name, but Clara really didn't pay much attention to that. She never was one for detail. The young woman much preferred looking at the larger, more general picture of things. A smile spread onto her face as he said that his young stallion didn't really have a decided name. "I like that, though," she said, a little bit more friendly this time. He seemed to have neutral intentions at worst, so she decided that Trey wasn't half bad. Even though she had spent the past four years of her life in Whispering Oaks, she hadn't met a whole lot of people that she could picture herself being good friends with. Trey seemed nice enough, and he apparently had at least an ounce of a sense of humor. Clara loved that in a person. As he took her hand, she was presented with one that felt the same as hers. A worn, leathery feeling after working days in the open.

She pondered her next words for a moment, leaving silence in the air. Then she opened her mouth to speak. "If you need a home, well, a temporary one at least, you could stay at my - rather, my father's ranch. Help me with the cattle and you'd pay off board," she said carefully. Clara wanted no bad things to come of this, but she wanted to help Trey out. Plus, her cattle herd of forty-some head wasn't easy to handle on her own. Not to mention the sixty plus horses she kept around to work and sell. "I could lend you a stall or a pasture for Mustang too if you needed - the livery stable in town isn't quite ideal for those horses used to being able to walk around."

[Trevor Hurrington]

Trevor had first put his rope around Mustang's neck near two years ago now, and since he'd been just calling him Mustang ever since that day, odds were the compact bay horse would always be known as just Mustang. It did fit him though. He might have been trained to ride, and listened to Trevor well, but he was still a mustang, and was still unpredictable. While Trevor had been wandering, he rarely tied Mustang, and just let the horse wander. On occasion he'd be gone for a day or two without so much as a trace as to where he'd gone before returning. Although he did "run away," he always came back eventually. Trevor had never even so much as raised his voice towards Mustang, and had treated him well, so the horse had no reason to not return... plus, the young stallion had grown rather fond of the older gelding which Trevor had been riding all his life.

It seemed like Clara was warming up to him, at least a little bit, which was a good sign. Trevor wasn't the easiest person to trust since he was so mysterious and reluctant to give out details of his life, let alone talk all that much, and he knew it, but he also couldn't help it. It was the way he was raised... or else the way he had raised himself because of his parents lack of interest in raising him themselves. Being the youngest in the group, his opinion hadn't ever mattered, and no one ever listened when he said anything, so he just never said anything at all to them. He talked more to the horses than he did to people... at least they showed a little interest in him.

The slightest hint of a smile started to tug at the corners of his mouth when Clara declared that she liked the name Mustang for the horse. Needless to say, Trevor wasn't very creative with naming things. Nevada had been stolen as a foal from people moving from Nevada further east... so naturally he called the then young horse Nevada. Mustang had been a wild mustang when he caught him... so the name became Mustang. Trip... well, the dog was clumsy as hell and was always knocking into things and tripping people when he was a puppy, so he became Trip. If he ever had kids, the wife would have to do the naming, otherwise they just might end up being named "boy" or "girl."

It came hand in hand with not being very creative that Trevor really wasn't all that smart. He was clever... he knew how to work around things to get out of trouble, he knew how to avoid being caught, he knew how to use his surroundings to his advantage to just disappear without a trace... but when it came to anything requiring say, math or something like that, he was at a loss. He'd never gone to school, and so had never learned any sort of skill that children generally learned there. Surprisingly though, he was rather well spoken for someone who hadn't ever learned grammar. Sure, it definitely wasn't perfect, and his reading and writing was... well, less than you would expect someone of 20 years to be able to read and write... but despite that, the way he spoke didn't make him appear to be some uneducated bandit with bad intentions.

I appreciate the offer... He said with a nod, really legitimately thankful, I just might have to take you up on that. Of course, stall and/or pasture definitely wasn't required for the horse... he was perfectly content with just letting him wander, but he was sure townsfolk and locals wouldn't want a random mustang wandering through town... especially one that bore no brand. He'd be free game if anyone could get a rope around his neck. There was also the issue of Nevada. The horse would never wander out of sight of wherever Trevor was, but if he was to keep his horses on the ranch, he'd have to work to pay of board for himself and both of the horses.

It wasn't that he didn't think he was capable of doing so... he was plenty good at working with his hands and with cattle, and he was sure he could work enough that it would pay them back for it... he just wasn't sure they'd be willing to give up the space for two horses and a man... it was a lot to ask... but at the same time, this could be his one and only opportunity to start making a name for himself. Sure, it was way down on the rungs of the ladder, working as a ranch hand, but everyone had to start somewhere, and Trevor was quite sure that working only to pay off board was a huge step up from stealing things or wandering the wilderness... and it was definitely a start in the right direction.