Welcome to Choteau, Montana, in 2018. What was once only a small city focused on fossils, has now started to turn into an equestrian mecca. Everyone still knows everyone, so the question remains, what will you become?
06/04 - Site opened 18/04 - Update log #01 including new features! 27/04 - A New skin has been released!
The trailer that pulled into Rusty Bucket's lot stuck out like a sore thumb. It was shiny with crisp cursive lettering and a stylized jumping horse logo. FLEETWOOD FARMS, Maryanne Donahue. A short man with messy black hair jammed underneath a worn cap sat in the driver's seat. And waited. And waited. The trailer sat there for over a half hour before the driver stepped out. He unloaded the single horse, a lanky two year old bay warmblood with rabicano and chrome markings. Even after the long drive from California, the horse stayed calm and almost bored with the new surroundings. However, there was still no one to claim the horse. The man walked the mare around to let her stretch her legs and even gave her a chance to graze nearby. His patience wore thin as the time ticked by even though this was his only stop.
The mare continued to be placid and unconcerned, though she was nothing like a Quarter horse or Paint that dominated the western world. The driver was Alejandro, a stablehand at Fleetwood Farms. The owner, Maryanne, was friends with Gail and the horse was meant for her. A training project, really, but the mare was practically born for jumping. She was a Dutch Warmblood named Syrah that had never been backed before. And after being assured that Gail took punctuality seriously, his frustration with her absence only grew.
It was nearing 11:30, over an hour since he first arrived, when a new SUV pulled up near the trailer. The woman who stepped out was livid as she approached the trailer.
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne peered out of her stall to look at the trailer that was parked outside of the barn. It looked nothing like any of the other trailers around the ranch. A little more fancy than the ones this ranch had. Though, there were nice trailers around Rusty Bucket, there weren't any that looked like this one did. She raised her eyebrow in questioning, curious as to why it was parked outside. She decided to ignore it for the time being, and continued to brush out her Rocky Mountain Horse.
Once Dream was brushed out, Cheyenne looked back outside the barn. There was now a Dutch Warmblood standing outside of the trailer. That horse definitely didn't belong at this ranch. Rusty Bucket was a western specialty barn. And generally, Dutch Warmbloods weren't made for western riding. She stroked Dream's forelock as a soft goodbye, and decided to head towards the trailer.
"That horse doesn't belong here," she said, outright. She wasn't trying to be rude, she just wasn't sure what else to say. It was the truth. As another vehicle pulled in, Cheyenne watched as an angry-looking lady stepped out of the cab. "Yeah, definitely doesn't belong here," she said, gesturing towards the woman.
The driver said nothing, only scowling even harder. He'd done his job--driven all the way to the middle of nowhere Montana to deliver a horse because his employer said to. He even got the directions off MapQuest and followed them to a T. Gail, on the other hand, was considerably less than impressed with his navigation. She'd known Maryanne since high school when Gail was still catch riding. When Gail opened her own place, Maryanne sent students her way, and the two maintained a good friendship in the years after Roderick's accident.
"You said last night that you'd be at Corner Meadows at 11:30. And then I get a text from Maryanne asking where I am because you can't find me anywhere and that you'd been waiting an hour. Please. Explain."
Syrah tried vainly to reach some rather tasty looking grass just out of reach. And it didn't help that someone who actually belonged at Rusty Bucket was now taking an interest in the goings on. Alejandro stumbled as the mare plowed her way to the patch of grass and nearly yanked his arm out of his socket in the process. He jerked hard on the lead rope startling the mare and sending her head flying upwards where she promptly hit the end of the lead rope again and started backing up in panic. Mixed with the overall tense air between Alejandro and Gail, Syrah was understandably worried.
"Ma'am, I'm only doing my job. Ms. Donahue gave me the address, and here I am. I texted you when I was a half hour away."
Alejandro vainly tried to explain his side of the story while hauling Syrah back towards the trailer. Not that she was particularly interested in getting back in when there was so much to eat outside. It played out like a game of tug of war with Syrah pulling in one direction and Alejandro in the other. Gail bit her tongue and turned towards the lone onlooker.
"Hi, sorry about this. Would it be alright if I kept the horse here a couple hours? I need to call for one of Corner Meadows' trailers, but most everyone is at a show an hour away. Again, really sorry about the commotion."
Gail looked genuinely apologetic before turning her attention back to the horse who had won the little contest and was now happily grazing and flicking away curious flies.
"You can go now. I'll stay with Syrah. And Maryanne would appreciate you not hauling on her horses' heads either. Have a nice drive back."
A few minutes later, a very red-faced Alejandro drove off with the trailer leaving Gail holding Syrah's lead rope and trying to keep the mare calm.
Post by Cheyenne Mayfield on May 25, 2018 0:53:08 GMT
[attr="class","box2"]Cheyenne watched as the pair had it out. She figured keeping quiet was her best option here. She was still curious as to what happened, though, so she stuck around to hear the conversation. Nosy? Maybe. But curiosity often got the best of her, and she couldn't help it. It sounded like the driver had brought the horse to the wrong ranch, which made sense as to why the horse was here. She knew there had to be some logical explanation for it. Because most certainly, that horse did not belong at Rusty Bucket.
Cheyenne pulled herself from her thoughts as the woman began to talk to her. "Uhm, yeah, I guess that's probably okay. There's plenty of stalls," she said. Honestly, she didn't know. She wasn't in charge of the stable. She just boarded her horse there. She could call one of the trainers, but she figured a text would suffice. "Let me just text someone real quick and make sure it's okay." She sent out a quick text, and luckily Rylee responded fast. She was given the okay for it to happen. Yeah, it's okay. The lead trainer here said it should be fine," she said, smiling at the woman.
"I'm Cheyenne," she said, offering out her hand. "I just board my horse here, so I don't know much about how the ranch is run. But I can definitely show you to an empty stall." She figured it wouldn't hurt to give a minute of her time. Hell, she had planned to spend the afternoon at the ranch with Dream. A little of her time away from the horse would do no harm.