(Author’s Note: Slowly working on getting to writing more. The problem is that when you’re rebuilding life from scratch, there’s not much you can do. So enjoy the Fictioneers until I can get myself back into a full writing spread.)
by Miles H. Rost
The clopping of the horse’s hooves on the ground slowed up, from a gallop to a trot. Approaching the main gate of the compound on horseback was the best way to impress The Man, in the mind of the rider.
Pressing the button beside the gate, the rider waited. And waited. And waited further. Slowly, a speck of a man started walking closer to the gate. As he arrived, the rider dismounted the steed.
“Are you Bobby?”
The rider nodded.
“Are you ready to teach my boy how to rope and ride?”
“Bobby” took their hat off, a long train of hair falling down to about the waist.
“Sure am, hoss. Bobbi Ann Jacobs is always ready to train.”