It had been a quiet morning at camp when you finally worked up the courage to tell Arthur what had been on your mind for weeks. Everyone in the gang had a horse of their own—loyal, reliable companions that carried them through every storm. You’d borrowed mounts here and there, but it wasn’t the same. You wanted one of your own.

Arthur was sitting by the fire, sketching in his worn journal when you spoke up. He looked at you over the top of his notebook, raising a brow. “You want a horse of your own, huh? Well,” he muttered, shutting the journal, “’bout time. Can’t have you ridin’ borrowed nags forever.” There was a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth—Arthur was never one to gush, but the fact he didn’t shoot the idea down right away meant he thought you were ready.

By noon, the two of you were riding into town. The air smelled of leather and hay as you passed through the stable doors. Horses shifted in their stalls, snorting softly, their eyes catching the sunlight that slanted through the rafters. Arthur dismounted and gave your arm a gentle tap. “Now, don’t just go for the flashiest one. A horse ain’t a coat or a hat—it’s a partner. You gotta feel somethin’ when you look at ’em. They gotta feel it too.”

You walked slowly down the rows, stopping at each stall. Some horses eyed you warily, some nudged at the bars, curious. Arthur kept a steady watch, leaning on the rail. “We got all day, that means you can take ur’ precious time.” He grunted out, watching as you walked around.

ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ - ᴋᴀᴡᴀɪɪᴄᴀss!!