Date: Tue, 13 Jun 2006 18:44:34 -0700
From: qwb <qwb@san.rr.com>
Subject: Stonegate Stable, Ch 2

Stonegate Stables

Chapter 2

Early June...

I'll be somewhere down in Texas if you're lookin' for me,
Drinkin' in that great wide-open, soakin' up the summer breeze.
Kickin' back an' settled in with my family.
I'll be somewhere down in Texas if you're lookin' for me.
- Somewhere Down In Texas, George Straight


    "Sean, that new mare's got thrush, the skinny grey one that came in
yesterday."

     "What?" I scowled at Tommy as he passed me in the barn aisle with a
huge wheel barrow full of dirty bedding. We have 2-wheel carts that are a
hell of a lot easier to keep upright when piled high with horse shit but
Tommy likes the old single-wheeled ones for the workout it gives his arms
and shoulders. "That wasn't in the vet check."

     "Yeah, well, she's got it. Right rear." As he headed out the door and
across the lot, I walked down a few stalls and went in with the new horse.
She was well built, mostly Warmblood with a little Thoroughbred in there
somewhere, which partly accounted for her current ribby appearance. She had
her right rear hoof cocked and picked it up quickly when I ran my hand down
her leg. As I pressed a thumb into her frog, the black ooze combined with
the tell-tale odor made the diagnosis simple.

     "God damn," I muttered as I headed for Sam's office but stopped as a
thought occurred to me. Danny (think Keanu Reeves with a few more muscles,
but, unfortunately, straight as the proverbial arrow), our farrier, was
coming tomorrow; he could trim her and see how bad it was. I went back and
picked the mare's foot as deeply as I could, made sure her shavings were
dry, then blanketed her for the night. One less for Tommy and Alejandro to
do.

     I'm Sean Flanagan, head trainer and general manager of a stable for a
variety of horsey sports - hunter/jumper, dressage, eventing, the odd
pleasure horse, with a couple reining cowhorse types thrown in to keep it
interesting. At any given time we have 25-35 horses, each with its owner,
rider, groom, etc. I train many of the horses and keep track of the big
picture. We have stabling for 54 horses in a total of 4 barns but have
never been at capacity since I've been running the place. That many animals
require more support staff than I'm interested in keeping track of.

     During the off season it's pretty mellow but once the shows start up,
it can be a madhouse - horses shipping out and arriving, riders throwing
hissy fits, grooms braiding manes and tails for the jumping arena when the
horse is headed for the dressage ring. But the fringe benefits are great.
If you want to see some hot male bodies, hie thee to a horse show. Damn
near the entire body is used in riding a horse, and a rider at the level we
consort with has had a lifetime of training, hours a day in the saddle (not
that saddle), more hours at the gym, and it shows in lean, hard,
beautifully muscled bodies. There aren't a lot of men that into horses, but
the ones who are - God, are they built.

     Over the years, we've garnered a reputation as a top notch,
alternative lifestyle friendly barn and had more than our share of wealthy
homos whose horses called Stonegate Stables home. Tommy and Alejandro met
here seven years ago when I took over, bringing my groom and occasional bed
warmer Tommy with me, and they'd been partners since. The minute we set
foot on the place, Alejandro stalked Tommy up one barn aisle and down the
other, finally cornering him in the hay shed and staking his claim, so to
speak, over a bale of alfalfa. Tommy runs the fleet of stableboys required
to keep a place the size of Stonegate going every day. Do you have any idea
how much manure 35 horses produce? He also monitors our inventory of
alfalfa, grass hay, grain, supplements, stall shavings, etc, and tells
Teresa when we're getting low. Alejandro is the head groundskeeper,
responsible for maintaining the buildings, fences, equipment, etc, that
keeps Stonegate functioning. They live in the roomy apartment directly
above my head and are responsible for the daily welfare of the ridiculously
expensive, overly pampered equine athletes lounging, eating and shitting in
the rows of stalls in our barns.

     Teresa, our CPA, keeps the books, invoicing and paying the bills. Tall
and willowy, her brown hair cut into short spikes, she is devoted to her
other half, Sam (don't fucking call me Samantha). Sam is our vet. She
worked for a large animal clinic outside Boston after she graduated, which
is where she met Teresa. But Sam got tired of treating torn cow udders and
impacted pig rectums so they looked for someplace as different from Boston
as it could be and wound up here, in East Texas. I'd been at Stonegate for
about a year at that point and had been toying with the idea of hiring our
own vet. With so many horses on the payroll, one of them was always needing
shots, getting kicked, or developing colic, and I was tired of begging the
local vets to fit us into their schedule yet again. When I saw Sam's ad in
Equine Daily, the local horse paper, I called her. She wanted more than we
could afford but the offer of living rent-free in the cute little stone
cottage by the creek at the back of the property clinched the deal and they
moved in the following week.

     They also handle all the transport stuff - health certificates, truck
and trailer booking, etc - required to get a horse from point A to point B,
and frequently on to points C, D, E and F, all on time and in good health.
Sam looks like a cheerleader, all tits, teeth and blond hair, but she takes
care of Teresa and our horses with a fierce competence that made her
invaluable to Stonegate and has me just slightly afraid of her.

     William Shepard, a very successful architect with a penchant for Gran
Prix riders, owns Stonegate but rarely makes an appearance, preferring
instead to travel with his rider du jour, at least until they tire of each
other, at which time he'll hang out at the stable for a week or two,
issuing half-assed orders no one follows, until another comely face sweeps
him off to Devon or Wellington or Aachen. He keeps a home out at the west
edge of the property, a large modern ranch, complete with pool, hot tub,
tennis courts, etc. It's a lovely place but empty for the most part as he
gallivants across the country in his little jet ferrying his current
boyfriend to the next stop on the circuit.

     So yours truly ran the place like it was my own, keeping the horses in
show condition and soothing the little tantrums that occurred between
owner, trainer, rider, and groom. I'd had an outstanding junior career,
winning rider of the year when I was 19, and at 22, appeared to be headed
for an equally illustrious domination of the pro circuit until an over
trained, under-talented 11 year old gelding refused a jump, a wide oxer,
pile-driving my left shoulder into the upright. Almost a year of my life
and three operations later, it worked okay but couldn't handle the stress
of competition, riding 8 hours a day, 7 days a week; so, at 23, I was
unemployed.

     I was William's flavor of the month at the time of the accident.
William came home with me and stayed close by until I was safely through
the first surgery, then eased his way out the door to romance my successor,
a blond twit named Royce, of all things. But he was good to me when we were
together and I appreciated his friendship and the freedom he gave me in
running Stonegate. I'd met Vincent only a few months before the accident;
he and my cousin Dylan kept me alive through the depression, worked out
with me through the physical therapy, and gave me the emotional support I
needed to get back to living after my life changed so abruptly.

     I'd been riding a Stonegate horse when I was hurt, one of several
owned by Amanda Colson, (yes, those Colsons) and when I was fit to work,
she presented me to William who was ecstatic to find someone he knew and
trusted to help him out of a distasteful situation. His then barn manager,
Tony, had just been caught in flagrante delicto in the tack room with the
barely 18 year old daughter of one of his major owners and he'd been
instructed to 'do something' about it immediately. He fired Tony at 7am,
hired me at 8 and I've been here since, finding the job challenging,
satisfying and, thanks to William's lingering affection for me, well
paying. I ride several hours every day, training and exercising the more
important of our residents when their usual riders are out of town.

     So here I am at 30, your basic gay white boy - 5'10", 165,
brown/brown, cut dick, decent body in good shape from a fast metabolism and
all those hours in the saddle. I have frequent, satisfying sex with a
small, close circle of friends, men I've known for years, and an occasional
temporary player who passes through, as in the case of the hunky Swedish
vet student from a couple years ago. I'm fairly content with my life,
though lately I'm feeling the urge for something more. Another horse? A new
car? A man of my own? Something.

     My parents live in a rambling old house at the edge of a neighboring
town and we see each other frequently. I came out to them when I was 16 and
heading off for my first full season of competition. They took the news
with aplomb, finding it no odder than the fact that I could make a living
dressing up in tight white breeches and riding horses that cost more than
their house. My mother welcomed my friends into her home with the same
warmth and affection that she showed the endless succession of stray
animals that my sister Bridget dragged home. She fed and loved them, one
and all, sending them on their way when they were well and able. My father
financed her soft heartedness by working hard and paying attention during
the dot com boom.

     Stonegate started life out in the boonies but civilization crept out
to meet us and now the 240 acres we occupy is surrounded on three sides by
country estates, 5 acres minimum, and by a huge open air mall across the
road. The folks who live in the nearest estates have to put up with the
smell of horses and their byproducts when the wind is right but Stonegate
is a beautiful stable with its stately rows of pines, imposing stone
buildings, and sleek, pricey horses dotting the pastures, and lends an air
of country gentrification to the neighborhood.

    I own one of the larger estates, 12 acres, purchased when they were
practically giving them away cause no one wanted to live a whole 30 minutes
from the nearest Starbucks. Now there's one across the road in the mall and
my place is worth 50 times what I paid for it. It's about 4 miles from my
little barn to Stonegate and I usually ride a horse back and forth. I own a
Quarter horse mare named Zena and the ride through the gathering dusk along
the bridle paths that wander around the estates is my favorite time of day.
I have a modest house by neighborhood standards, 15 rooms, 2 pools and a
hot tub, and I cavort about in it with various friends almost every night.
It really is a lovely place to live.

     "Sean." I hear the Oklahoma drawl of my favorite cowboy and turned to
smile into his brown eyes, shadowed by the brim of his Stetson. "How they
hangin', bubba?" he inquired, giving my butt a friendly squeeze on his way
past. At 26, Cody is a good looking guy with a rangy build suitable to
lounging in the saddle all day. And he's the real deal, cowboy-wise, son of
a 3 time all around world champion cowboy and a national champion reiner in
his own right. We ride together frequently and my cow work is coming along
nicely. Zena's got the build and breeding for it and Cody is a patient
teacher. He grew up near Lawton on his daddy's huge ranch, I forget how
many acres, riding and roping his way through the daily life of a working
cattle ranch as soon as he could stay on a horse. He's an excellent
trainer, having that extra bit of horse savvy that separates the good from
the great. He rodeoed when he was young, taking the Youth title 2 years in
a row but quit to concentrate on reining and cow work.

    He lives with Wade, my money guy, in one of the estates on the far
side of the development from me. Wade bought it the same time his dad
advised me to buy my place. After I was hurt, I realized I needed to get
smarter about money, since I'd be earning less of it. Wade's father took my
winnings, rider contract fees, product endorsements, and insurance
settlement and turned them into a mid seven figure portfolio by the time I
was 28. He passed me along to Wade after Wade joined the firm. Wade played
college ball in Minnesota, quarterback, and still looks the part at 31, his
6'2" frame wide through the shoulders with muscular arms and powerful legs.
His short blond hair and green eyes make him damn near irresistible and for
a while I thought I wanted him for my own, but although we had a great time
in bed, the sparks weren't there and we became good friends. I introduced
him to Cody after luring Cody away from a stable on the other side of the
county four years ago. When Cody got out of his truck that first day and
realized we were a jumper and dressage barn, he almost drove away. I
convinced him to take a look around, introduced him to Tommy and Alejandro,
and showed him the south barn, which already housed Zena and Teresa's two
Quarter horse geldings. When I told him we'd be happy to keep a few steers
around the place, Sam sent our van for his horses the next day. He met Wade
a week later when Wade stopped by the barn to have me sign some papers.
They dated for a month, Cody moved in, and, as different as they are, they
are one of the strongest couples I know.

    The dressage riders were rude to Cody and made stupid cowboy jokes
until he told one of them if they thought it was so fuckin' easy, they
oughta try it. He dared one of them to ride his old cutting horse, a Doc
O'Lena grandson, on a cow. Word got around, we started a pool - rider vs
horse - and the event drew a good crowd. The horse did his thing and when
the silver medal winning dressage rider dismounted pale and shaking 5
minutes later, the pot went to the horse. The dressage rider soon added his
own Quarter horse to the south barn and rides with us regularly.

     "Hey. Shoer's coming tomorrow morning so don't come out till after
lunch. I'll have him do Queenie first." Who but a gay cowboy would name his
horse Queenie? The fact that she is a world caliber cutting horse and had
placed 3rd in the national finals in February only makes it funnier.

     "Yeah? Well, Ah may show up jista git a gander at Danny's ass," he
said with a wink and sauntered off across the yard to the south barn. A
minute later I heard Queenie's nicker as she greeted him. Horses know who
loves `em. I watched Cody work Queenie for a while, appreciating the
endless training it took to achieve those sliding stops and perfect roll
backs. When Cody rode off to work the steers, I stopped by the office to
check in with Teresa and make sure money matters were under control. She
was running her fingers through her hair in frustration and crossed her
eyes at me while she argued with the hay guy about the moldy bales.

     "I don't give a rat's ass what it looked like when it got delivered to
you - it's moldy now and I won't feed it. Get a truck out here by noon
Wednesday or I'm going to take out an ad in Equine Daily and you'll be
paying me to replace it!" She banged the phone down. "Fuck! That guy is
such a jerk. Is there no where else we can buy alfalfa?"

    "Probably. Call around and see what you can find. I got no problem
changing suppliers if you can get the same deal."

     "OK, cool. Thanks." She glanced at a note on her desk, then back up at
me. "Danny called and said he's sending a new guy tomorrow, PJ something. I
couldn't understand him. He was out at Baker's place and his cell was
breaking up."

     I looked at her in horror. "Jesus, he can't do that. This is the last
shoeing for Amanda's horses shipping to Westview. It needs to be right."

     "I know, I told him that and he swears this guy is good. He was
insulted that I thought he'd send someone who didn't know what they were
doing."

     "I don't give a shit if he's insulted or not." I thought for a moment.
"I'll let him do Queenie first. If he's ok with her, he can do the others."

       I walked back out to the barn shaking my head. It was always
something. And what the hell kind of name was PJ for a horse shoer?