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“Sometimes I wish I were a horse.” Mary Beth says, dropping to sit beside Tilly and Karen as she takes up some mending.
“What? Why?” Tilly stares over at her like she’s grown a second head.
“I can guess.” Karen smirks, glances to the other side of camp where their horses are tethered. Arthur’s there, patiently brushing and plaiting the mane of his newest mount, a tall dappled grey thoroughbred. She drops her voice into an imitation of masculinity. “Who’s my good girl? Ain’t you the prettiest lady ever?”
Mary Beth flushes and buries her head in her hands.
“Oh my god I was trying to write over at the edge of camp and he just kept… talking to her.”
Tilly busts out laughing at the other girl’s red face.
“I know what you mean. That voice does not belong outside of a bedroom.” She agrees. The three of them turn to watch the man in question.
Arthur is leaned over his horse, a soft look on his face while his big hands pet down her neck.
“No reason we can’t… move ourselves over there a bit while we work.” Karen suggests.
“What are you three doing over here?” Abigail frowns down at the group of women that have for some reason taken to doing their chores right beside the camp’s hitching posts. They’re being suspiciously quiet and Mary Beth is an interesting shade of red. Abigail wonders if the girl is coming down with something.
“Shhh!” Tilly waves a hand at her, motioning her to sit beside them.
Abigail frowns but does as she’s bid, accepting a sock in need of darning from Karen.
“Hey now, girl… you’re okay.” A soft purring, oh-so-deep voice comes from nearby and Abigail feels her eyes widen. “There you are… my girl. My pretty girl.”
She leans forward to peek through the trees to where Arthur is brushing out his horse.
“Yeah… you know you’re my best girl, dontcha?” He murmurs, voice low and seductive. “Always so good for me, doing everything I ask so well.”
Abigail looks back to the other girls, mouth open in a surprised Oh.
“There now… let's get you all cleaned up, sweet thing.”
She swallows and settles in with her sock.
John watches the girls suspiciously. They’ve just moved camps and the lot of them have seemed to decide that the absolute best place to sit during the evenings is in a little alcove right next to the horse pen. It wouldn’t be that strange, except they don’t ever seem to be talking to one another – just sitting there, way too attentive to their mending.
“What are you ladies up to?” He demands, after several days of watching the same bizarre display.
“Shh!” Tilly shushes him and Abigail drags him down to sit next to her, slapping a hand over his mouth before he can ask why the hell they’re acting like this.
“Arthur has a new horse.” Karen whispers to him as if that explains it, which it definitely don’t.
He stares at them all, sure that they’ve lost their minds.
“Good boy…” Arthur’s voice is a familiar rumble just on the other side of the trees. “Yeah… you’re gonna be a good boy for me, ain’t ya?”
John can feel his eyes widen, staring at the women in mild horror.
“Once I get you broken in… gonna be like you was made for me, ain’t ya?” The other man continues, oblivious to his audience. “My sweet good boy.”
John pries Abigail’s hand from his mouth.
“Oh my god, are you serious?!” Almost before he’s finished speaking, he has four angry women on top of him, trying to get him to shut up but it’s too late and he hears more than sees that Arthur’s been distracted by the commotion when no more distinctly lewd cooing comes from nearby.
A moment later the big man’s stepped around the copse of trees and into the girl’s little hidey-hole. Between the look on Arthur’s face and the fact that John’s pinned down by four obviously flushed and flustered women, he has a pretty good idea what this must look like.
“Hello ladies.” Arthur greets, sounding amused. “And… John.”
“Hi… Arthur.” Karen tries, sounding a little weak. The others mumble some variation on the same greeting. Mary Beth looks especially mortified.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He apologizes, tips his hat all gentlemanly-like. “Seems like ya’ll are having a real good time here so I’ll leave you to it.” He backs back towards camp, whistling a bit as he goes.
“Goddamn it, John!” Karen hits him upside the head once Arthur’s out of earshot, climbing off of him. “That were the best bit of fun we’ve had in months and you done ruined it for us.”
There’s a chorus of agreement and dirty looks and then the ladies have left him there in the grass and dirt and John thinks he may actually die from embarrassment, and it weren’t even his fault for once.
“I hate you.” John tells Arthur later, when they’ve ridden out of earshot of the camp the next day.
“Aw, Johnny, don’t be like that. You got four lovely ladies all on you at once!” Arthur’s grin splits his face, bright and amused.
“They were listening to you.” He hisses.
“Oh, I know.”
“You knew? And you were going on… like… like…” John thinks his brain might be misfiring.
“Like what?” And Arthur’s voice has dropped to that low gentle octave again, coaxing and seductive. John decides the flush he can feel rising in his cheeks is entirely because he’s angry at the man… angry and... appalled. “I was just talking to my sweet boy here.”
“Oh my god.”
Arthur brings his horse right alongside John’s, close enough their legs brush.
“Gotta make sure he knows that I’ll take good care of him.”
“I hate you so much.” John repeats, spurring his own horse into a canter.
Arthur just laughs and follows him.