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Tommy's forearms leaned against the corral, his cigarette in hand, as he watched his new horse huff in the corner. It was a black thoroughbred that he had won in a bet with Johnny Dogs. It had a certain air that made people not want to get close to it. Tommy's eyes stayed fixed on it as it moved around the corral, lightly pawing at the ground.
Tommy heard someone walk up behind him, but he didn’t turn. He could tell from the way Johnny Dogs walked who it was.
“The bloody thing looks insane, Johnny. How am I supposed to use her in any races?”
Tommy’s question made Johnny laugh.
“She’s fast, Tommy. And she’ll only listen to your boys,” Johnny stopped for a minute, making sure Tommy was listening before continuing. “She don’t like it when people speak English at her. She only knows Romani. Keeps her from being stolen.” Anyone with sense would be uneasy by the gleam in Johnny Dog’s eyes as he looked at the horse with pride. “Her name’s Morga.”
Tommy nodded slightly. “Death, eh?”. He took a drag of his cigarette, his eyes not leaving the horse in front of him.
“Why the hell would you name a horse 'Death', Johnny?"
Johnny smiled, leaning forward slightly.
"Ah, well, Tommy, she looks like death, don’t she? Fast, mean, and doesn’t give a damn. Comes for you like a storm, and if you ain’t careful, you’ll find yourself flat on your arse real quick."
Tommy raised his eyebrows, before turning towards Johnny.
“Thoroughbred,” Tommy said. “How did you get your hands on a horse like that?”
Johnny laughed loudly. “Nah, Tommy, that’s a story for later. After she is off my property.”
Tommy smiled. That was the thing with Johnny. He chose this place for his caravans because of the abandoned corral he found, but as long as he was here, it was his property.
The rest of Tommy’s questions died as Arthur and John walked over. John and Arthur had been drinking with some of the Lees, and judging from how loud they were, they had had too much. The Lee’s looked the same as always, but Arthur and John’s eyes were slightly glassy.
Tommy watched as Arthur smacked his hand down on John’s shoulder, slightly leaning into him. John swayed backwards, but then straightened again.
“What’s the matter, eh? You scared of a little pony?” Arthur asked. Tommy pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the headache starting to form. Beside him, Johnny Dog’s was starting to grin.
“I’m not scared of no fucking pony ,” John said.
“Y’know what,” Arthur’s voice lowered with the challenge, “I bet ya a week’s wages you won’t get on that beast.”
John’s eyes flicked towards Morga standing in the corner. She was standing tall, watching the group of men. There was no fear in her stance, but Tommy knew a horse of Johnny’s should be treated with a level of respect that was bordering fear. His horses were never quite sane. It made them great racehorses, if the rider had their head on right. And John fucking didn’t.
John’s eyes narrowed, before he took the toothpick out of his mouth and threw it on the ground. He started for the entrance of the corral, staggering slightly as he walked. Tommy could hear him rambling under his breath, maybe trying to up his confidence.
Tommy moved towards him and Arthur.
“John–” Tommy started.
Arthur chuckled and hit Tommy in the chest, probably harder than he intended. “Let him fucking try, Tommy. He won’t even catch it.”
The horse stood in the corner, eyeing John as he walked towards it. Johnny Dogs had taken off the horse’s saddle, leaving just the halter and reins. As John walked towards it, Johnny leaned over to Tommy.
“You gonna let him find out the hard way that the horse only takes orders in Romani, eh, Tommy?” Johnny Dog grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. Tommy took another drag of his cigarette.
///
As John walked forward, his breath caught in his throat.
The horse looked insane.
He considered for half a second turning around and forgetting about the dare all together. But he knew that if he did that, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. So he did what any reasonable Shelby would do, and kept walking towards it, keeping a cocky smile and a confident walk.
As he approached the horse, he could feel the tension rising on the back of his neck. He could hear Arthur still laughing, egging him on even more. He took another step and was close enough to touch it.
He reached a hand out and lightly stroked the horse.
You better not break my fucking neck , he thought.
Without a second thought, he grabbed a hunk of mane and swung himself up on Morga’s back.
Dizziness muddled his vision for a moment, but the horse seemed to like him. She at least didn’t seem to mind him much.
When he was confident the horse wasn’t going to react poorly, a smirk slowly crept across John’s face. He threw his arms outward.
“I’m the fucking horse whisper!”
At his words, he saw Johnny Dog’s face fall. “John, no–” he yelled.
John didn’t get a chance to figure out what Johnny Dog’s was going to say. He had hardly finished boasting before he felt the horse tense underneath him, the white’s of Morga’s eyes showing. John instinctively grabbed the reins.
Any goodwill John had earned was gone. Morga bucked and twisted, fighting to get John off of her. In the corner of his vision, he saw Johnny Dogs and Tommy wrestling with the gate to get inside. John held on for a minute, but Morga yanked forward then reared. His grip slipped and he slid off her back. He landed on the packed ground hard.
The breath was knocked out of him, and he gasped on the ground fighting to catch his breath. He could hear Arthur and the Lee’s on the other side erupt into laughter.
John’s head leaned forward, glaring at the horse on the other side of the corral.
“You’d better stay over there ‘cause I’ll fucking kill you if I get my hands on you,” John muttered, before his head fell back on the ground.
He was still struggling to catch his breath when he heard the men who were previously laughing suddenly stop. Then Johnny Dogs and Tommy were yelling at him to move. John’s head shot back up, as he watched the horse racing towards him. John would later blame it on the alcohol tolerance of the Lee’s, as to why he struggled to get up fast enough.
The horse was already on him, trampling John under her hooves.
John covered his head, but a quick gasp left him when he felt the horse’s hoof leave a deep gash in his leg.
Johnny Dogs and Tommy were running at John. “Stāvi! Aso!”
The horse stopped immediately, then turned around and trotted over to the voice.
John, still curled up on the ground, clutched at his leg. He could feel blood coating his hands. His face was pulled into a grimace.
Death by a fucking horse. Just my luck.
John’s vision blackened around the edges, as he heard the sound of footsteps running towards him. He felt himself getting flipped on his back, pain shooting up from his leg as Tommy’s face came into view.
“John, you fucking idiot,” Tommy snapped. His eyes were wide with worry.
Tommy shook his head, and moved to John’s leg.
“Why the fuck did you get on the stupid beast, John?!” Arthur appeared above Tommy’s shoulder, his face filled with bewilderment.
John huffed, groaning as Tommy inspected the gash in his leg. “‘Cause you fucking dared me to, you stupid bastard.”
Arthur shook his head and muttered, “I didn’t think you would actually do it.”
Tommy’s voice cut through, demanding John’s attention.
“I’m going to have to stop the bleeding. This is going to hurt.” John did a quick nod, clamping his eyes shut.
“Arthur, give me your tie.” While Arthur was taking off his tie, Tommy took out a handkerchief and pressed it against the gash, trying to stop the bleeding. Arthur handed Tommy his tie, and Tommy quickly tied it around John’s leg and the handkerchief making a sort of bandage. Tommy then pulled his belt off, and tightened it around John’s leg. John’s breath came out ragged as Tommy tightened to the point of pain.
“Can you stand?” Tommy asked. John nodded weakly, grimacing as Tommy and Arthur lifted him.
John’s eyes drifted over to Morga and Johnny Dog who were standing in the corner. Johnny Dog was holding the horse’s reins, gently stroking the horse's face. He was speaking under his breath and not a fucking word of English.
“You think you could’ve told me the stupid thing spoke Romani before I got up there and made a fool of myself?” John called, glaring at the horse.
“You never needed help with that, John,” Tommy said. He looked like he was fighting the urge to laugh. Fucking bastard.
John turned his attention to Arthur. “You better pay up.”