For Sale -> Doc Piston

[piston]

The trailer he arrived in was well maintained; the truck.. not so much. It was an older gentleman who shuffled around to the back and popped the latch open, swinging the doors wide and patting the wide bay rump with a fond whistle. Obediently, the dark haunches curled and the stud shuffled out, reaching out with one socked foot first; finding solid ground and then hopping out altogether. Halterless save for a cribbing collar, Piston glanced around quietly; ears heavenward and face mildly unconcerned. His handler grabbed the headcollar and led him toward an available pen, Piston following behind him placidly.

Returning to the trailer once the stud was settled; a laminate was posted on the nearest railing.

Doc Piston
Registered Paint Stallion
10 years
16.2hh
Cutter/Reiner
Requires experienced owner/rider/handler
--+ very!!! challenging +--

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt wsa back up at the auction barn, his second home basically. He was gazing about the usual isles, horses leaving and arriving. He walked through the maze of people. Today, the place was packed unlike last time when he bought the paint mare, Cheyenne.

He arranged the ball cap on his head and when he looked up, he saw an elderly man taping up an information sheet infront of a big bay horse's stall. He stepped up to the pipes and observed the stallion. A well built horse, with an amazing conformation. He gazed over at the paper and read about him. A challenge? He smiled, a challenge was good. He moved over to the man that posted the sign and simply asked,

How much for the stallion?

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He pointed over his shoulder at the horse. There was rarely a limit on expenses when it comes to a horse. This one would be one of those to prove his point.
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[piston]

The elderly gentleman smiled and tipped his wide brimmed white straw hat, glancing back at Piston quietly for a second in mild contemplation. Well now.. I've been asking ten thousand, he's an accomplished cutter. But that attitude of his gets the better of me every time, and I can't stand to get thrown any longer.. these bones don't take it as well as they used to. Say.. $5,500? Negotiable. Make me an offer. He sat back on his heels and chirped at the big stud.

Piston lifted his head, ears flicking forward as he meandered over to the fence. A fond whuffle blew through his large white nostrils and he nudged the gentleman politely, recieving a soft pat in response. He was a sweetheart on the ground - he just tended to throw tantrums under saddle and given as much grit as he had when chasing cattle, he didn't appreciate being told how to do the job he was bred, born, and raised to do. It took a sensitive handler to crack his thick skull. Rubbing his cheek against the rough palm, Piston snorted and sneezed out a mouthful of dust, black tendrils flicking over his haunches in mild annoyance at the vast amount of flies visiting the auction pens. Dark eyes focused on the newcomer with mild curiosity, head thrust forward through the panels to visit.

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt listened contently, thinking about the offer and his own offer. The deal couldn't be beat, honestly. He ripped out that infamous check book in his wallet, and pulled the trusty ol' black pen from his front pocket of starched cinch jeans. He borrowed a pipe to write on and made the check out to be $5,500 and handed him the filled out check - well, minus the name who it was made out to.

Fifty-five hundred is hard to beat, man. I'll take him.

He grinned as the horse was being nosey amongst the two men. He was almost jittery with excitement, like a little boy again. The idea of him being a good challenge just rang his bell. He gazed around the fence and the man looking for a halter and lead rope..

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[piston]

The gentleman reached back to tap on Piston's chest lightly and the stud backed to the center of the corral. Quietly and reassuringly, his now ex-owner folded the check and pocketed it, smiling cheerfully at the young man and moving to retrieve a leader halter and leadline from the back of the trailer.

Now.. one thing to remember. Piston's very well trained and extremely obediently, but he resents being ordered around. Ya gotta ask. He thrust the leadline into Colt's hands and clasped both arthritic palms around the younger man's fist. Take care o'em. He's been mine for a long while, I had his mama and his daddy both. I could handle a horse like him at 70 - but 80 is pushing it. He clapped Colt on the shoulder and nodded to Piston with a sad smile, trudging back to the truck.

Piston watched his old master leave with mild trepidation. He was fairly well socialized, but watching the only familiar person he knew leave was a little more than even a well socialized stallion could handle unflappably. A piercing whinny tore off after the truck as it bounced out of sight, and his face deadpanning back to Colt. He ambled toward the gate, head low, curious as to what exactly was going to happen next. This was all new to him.

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt nodded like he was being told the orders of his life. The stallion would be in good hands - if only the man could be positive about that fact. he took grasp of the tack that was handed to him and felt the warmth of the worn out hands on his. He looked at the bundle and then back at him as he spoke again.

I understand, very much.

He tried to memorize what he said about Piston being very picky of his commands. The horse was damn smart evidently. Colt couldn't ask for more. He reached over to the stall cautiously as the big horse beckoned a shrill cry. He always felt bad for the horses that were left behind like this, he knew what it felt like to be left behind. He went for the latch on the gate to the little pen and stuck his hand out for the horse that now hung his head.

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[piston]

Nostrils wide, the stud stepped back to give Colt room to enter; surveying his new owner with the keen look of a child eyeballing a new swing set. How long until the chains broke on this one? How high could it go? When do we get to play? Flicking his tail, he thrust his muzzle out to meet Colt's hand, rubbing his neck - and cribbing collar - against the tall individual with quiet appreciation, heaving a great sigh. So this was the new situation. Lifting his face to Colt's, he blew warm air over his cheeks, lips peeling back to lip at his nose lightly as he tasted his new owner all over. Mouthy, yes. That was his repertoire.

Spotting his halter, he dropped his head and nudged the swinging leather lines, at first gently and then a bit more roughly, back foot stomping impatiently. He was eager to get away from the bugs, the crowd, and move on with life. Who could ask for a more willing animal?

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt laughed a bit as the horse was touchy - unlike most stallions he has ever came into contact with. Not to mention, he only has geldings and two mares. Piston would definitely get a side of the barn to himself.

He reached for the halter and untangled it from the lead line, and reached to the horse's bay head and strapped it on, working around the cribbing collar.

Alright boy, let's get you out of this hell hole.

He said with a smile, unlatching the gate aiming for his truck and trailer.

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[piston]

Piston ambled after his new master with quiet grace, large frame curving to accommodate the gate as he squeezed through after Colt. Dancing around at the end of his lead, he crab stepped - careful not to pull but still testing his limits as he flung his head up and looked this way and that. Spotting the trailer, he stopped dead, a fanning snort erupting from flared nostrils as he planted his feet and eyed the new vehicle suspiciously. After a half-second, he flattened his ears and danced forward again, skittering sideways and half-dragging Colt with him as he stretched his large nose out to nose the back of the trailer quietly. Bumping it, he startled himself, skittering backward violently and planting all four feet solidly, snorting throatily and trembling all over. Nu uh. Nope. Killer trailer.

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt was being pulled to one side of the isle to the other while the stud was prancing about. Once they arrived at the end of the trailer, the horse bumped it and started bouncing around then suddenly planted himself like a statue. He shook his head and wiped his face with his bare hand,

You, son, are a piece of work.

He laughed a bit and reached for the lock on the door of his Sundowner and swung it open slowly, attempting to keep him calm. Or, less strung than he already was. He stepped toward the trailer, in hopes of the stallion possibly loading, or possibly causing a scene. The ideas were spinning through his mind.

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[piston]

Another nervous snort as the trailer door swung open, jumping backward like a goofy yearling. Piston curved his neck to eyeball the inside of the trailer carefully, still not fully convinced it wasn't a killer trailer. It probably ate horses, you know. All the Sundowners did. Tugging slightly on the leadline to test Colt's determination, he sighed in resignation, staring down at the young man mildly. After a quiet moment, he unlocked his knees and took a step forward, taking a 360 in personality and meandering up to the trailer sedately, tromping up first one foreleg and then the other. Standing circus-pony style on the edge of the trailer, he glanced down at Colt and blew a heavy sigh in his direction, hefting himself the rest of the way in - meanwhile, dragging the leadrope out of Colt's hand if he hadn't yet let go - and sauntering to the front of the trailer.

His large mahogany nose swatted the hinged pleasure window at the front impatiently, demanding to hang his head out the window as he turned to glance over his shoulder through his peripherals. His hind left came up in park position as he stood on one curved hip, ears splayed to the side like an insufferable mule. He was ready to go now. Come on. Why weren't we moving yet? He smacked the window again, gnawing on the latch with pearly whites.

[S.LiNGSH0T]

Colt allowed the horse to load but followed in behind him carefully. He grabbed the free line and tied it to the loop by the window. He backed out and swung the slant closed slowly, securing it to a close. He watched as the stallion rested in the trailer, already. He couldn't help but smile. Colt spotted him fiddling with the window ahead of himself.

Colt walked out of the trailer and shut the door behind him, locking it shut. He stepped over to the side and unlatched the window and it popped into the hook that kept it from bouncing as they drove. He just slid the other windows open to circulate a breeze for the big horse.

Ready, boy?

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[piston]

Shoving his ginormous (it's a word, look it up) head through the port window as best he could; Piston flapped his chocolate lips in the breeze, cheesy riding as horses do best as the trailer rolled easily and gently down the drive and out toward the roadway. Flicking his tail idly and quickly growing board of the situation; the big stud decided a possibly reverse mid-transit, backing up until his hind-quarters hit the slant and jarring to a stop, rocking the trailer mildly as it cruised down the roadway. Finding that to be less than a pleasant experience, he splayed his legs, dropping his hind quarters in preparation to lie down. Oh, wait, damnit, he was tied. Throwing his head up, he huffed and hauled his back end up again, stomping his forelegs in indignation. This was why the old man had normally left him untied - he was a picky jerk, and he preferred to trailer in his own fashion, thank you very much. Returning to the port window, he shoved his head out again, squinting against the airy onslaught as he looked forward toward their destination.

[[00C- sorry for the bit o'powerplay, just figured I'd help move things along otherwise we'd have two second posts all afternoon. Where are we going from here? I can meet you on the next board.]]

[S.LiNGSH0T]

[[OOC: its cool, i'll post at Crooked Path and we can continue it there]]