Title: The Edge of Neight, aka StallionCrest 3/8
Rating: PG-13/All Audiences (if you watch TV soaps, you're good)
Summary: Things are peaceful at the ranch until a good-for-nothing show horse joins the herd and destroys the plans already laid in place. Or is he there to free an untamed heart? *whinny*
Feedback: Yes, please! It's like a nosebag full of delicious oats and a good rub down after a hard ride. [/implication to your inference].
Warnings: DID I MENTION THIS WAS A (clean) SOAP OPERA ABOUT HORSES? There will be: comas! Deserted Islands! Evil twins! Cold, cruel stares as the camera fades to black! Intense looks! Burros! Thesaurus abuse! Loads of adjectives! Also: I do not support use of Premarin or abusing circus horses or stereotyping burros. Carry on. :D
Chapters: One Two
The Edge Of Neight
click the title to listen to the theme song!
Fancy rolled in the straw and dirt of her pen, utterly forlorn. It seemed that Stormy had wrapped her bit and bridle around the dashing and mysterious Skidoodle, and there was nothing for her now, nothing! She cared not that her punctiliously manicured hooves slammed against the rail of her stall chipping them, nor did she give a whit about her meticulously braided tail and mane getting covered in hay and muck. She would be forced into marrying the cruel and barbarous Ransom Paycheck, and her mother would win. And what would Fancy get? Nothing but a nosebag of oats and a baby from a loveless marriage, that's what. It was a worse fate than being sent to the Premarin factory.
It was almost too much to bear. She lay on her side panting, her sharp exhales creating eddies in the dirt. She had never spoken to Skidoodle, had barely even caught a complete look at him, but there was one thing Fancy Face Von Linestock knew to the depths of her heart: she was utterly and completely in love with him. She knew that if she couldn't have him, life wasn't worth living. Fancy hoped her mother didn't back her into a corner. She didn't want to do anything drastic, but she'd be damned if anyone was going to keep her from her dreams! And now, her dreams were Skidoodle. Skidoodle, Skidoodle, that blessedly handsome dappled-grey Skidoodle...
Justin Time kicked a stone at the split-rail fence that bordered the Star W Double T Walking F Rocking U Flying C Circle K Ranch. He bared his teeth and whickered in anger. If only that blasted nag of a mare Stormy would come to reason! He scratched his chin on the rail, deep in thought. He had to make her see the light. He had to do something to get her away from that circus freak, Skidoodle! But how? He looked out at the rippling wheat in the green crop pasture, pitiable and woebegone.
Clover the silly-faced pony rubbed her cheek on the barn door to pull her nose bag off. She could see Justin Time at the entrance to the ranch kicking stones. He was so handsome and strong and tawny. His withers were proud, his fetlocks long and supple; she let out a dreamy sigh at the mere sight of him. If only she could get him to notice her! But how? She stuck her lower lip out and blew up to get her forelock out of her eyes. She knew it made her look silly, always falling in her face, but she had heard Hank mention to another ranch hand that it made her look sweet and innocent. If only that was what attracted a stud like Justin! What did attract him? Dirty sluts like Stormy, she thought. She berated herself for calling Stormy a slut. That wasn't how ponies behaved!
...maybe that was the problem. Maybe she shouldn't behave like a pony! Maybe she should try and act like Stormy - that might turn a few heads! She made a mental note of all the supplies she'd need. Black leather halter, the smaller English riding saddle, also in black leather... She might ask Hank to put some studs on it to give it some oomph. She rubbed her hooves together. She had a plan, and she would make Justin Time hers, all hers!
Ransom Paycheck rolled off Stormy and whickered slow and seductive. "That was... just what I needed."
Stormy adjusted her lead and shook her glossy black mane back into place. "Me, too. Damn, that Skidoodle!" She snorted in anger.
Ransom Paycheck chuckled low and long. "I've told you to let that damned circus horse go. You're too delectable and bewitching for a simpleton like that dappled bastard."
She whirled, her eyes flashing and hooves threatening. "Don't you call him a bastard! He's more horse than you'll ever be!"
Ransom rubbed his sides against the stall door as if he had a deep itch that needed scratching. "You keep telling yourself that, kid." He advanced on her, blowing softly through his nose, his head bobbing up and down in an enticing manner. "Meanwhile, why don't you let me show you what a real horse can do?"
She maintained her haughty manner until he nuzzled her throat latch and exhaled hotly. Her haunches trembled and she threw herself at the stallion. A mare has needs, too, she thought. There would be time enough for her plans to win that rascally scoundrel, Skidoodle, later.
Top O'The Line checked the padlock on the door to the ramshackle building, holding someone, or some thing, hostage. She checked to make sure no one had seen her and moved off, back to the comfort of her luxury stall and hand-crafted dinner of oats and special grains to keep her chestnut skin glossy. As she approached the tumble-down stone wall, she paused. Top O'The Line listened, head down and back at her leg. She bit her lip, then straightened up, shook her mane and whinnied. She was being a sentimental old nag, and that would never do! No one could ever know, or she'd be finished! Over!
She reared back, pawed at the air and took off like a shot racing against the devil, it would seem. She was a champion mare, dammit, not some flea-bitten nag like Clover, and she would act like it! She held her head high as she entered the paddock; she wouldn't condescend to look at any of the lesser horses that didn't have her ribbons, her accomplishments to brag and boast about. She allowed herself to be put in the cross-ties for brushing and sweat scraping. Her groomer used the finest supplies and got her coat gleaming after her long run from the secret shed. Her stall had been mucked and fresh hay and spring water awaited her. She buried her nose into her feed, hoping no one would see the abject fear in her eyes...
Random Paycheck sauntered out of his stall. Everything he wanted, he got. This damn Fancy Pants had almost ruined his perfect track record. But after tomorrow, that would be a thing of the past. Their union would happen at sunset, and she'd be up to her stifle in bedding hay by nightfall. He preened and pranced on his powerful hooves as a voice over the stables' intercom system announced the wedding. He'd make sure his groomer put out his best tuxedo collar. He spotted Skidoodle on the other side of the stable; he thundered over to him.
"Make sure you have a front row seat, circus boy. I don't want you to miss Fancy's face when she says, 'I do.'"
"You're out of line, Boyo!" Skidoodle's eye flashed green menace.
"No, I'm in line. And that fine filly will produce a worthy heir to my bloodline, in fact, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it."
"Och, we’ll see about that, ye minging bogtrotter!" and he hot-hooved it away from the cruel black stallion.
"You'll see, my polka-dotted friend," he laughed at the word "friend." He moseyed back to his stall to get his hooves polished and his tail braided in a manner befitting his station. "I can't wait to see you lose." His eyes narrowed, watching the disappearing figure in the distance. "She's mine."
(end title music, aka, Y&R theme song, ahaha)