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The sun rose slowly yet steadily over the horizon, as if it too would’ve preferred a sleep in but knew it had a duty to perform, and Shepherd sat with his hands folded on the horn of Red’s saddle as he watched the daylight crest over the mountain peaks.
Beside him, Gideon was practically giddy as he rubbed his hand across the cool metal of Pork Chop’s flank, the massive metallic beast gleaming almost blindingly under the rising sun. Shepherd doubted that the man-made steed could feel Gideon’s touch, but what else could he do other than copy what he had seen Shepherd do to his own steed for most of his life? He could only follow the example that Shepherd himself had already set.
Early this morning, when it was dark outside and he was still feeling some of the aches and pains from the fight against Grinning Jack, Shepherd had climbed out of bed and crossed the landing to Gideon’s room. Downstairs, Portia Bella and Quibbly were sleeping curled up together on the couch, and in his own room, Rett was snoring deeply. He pushed his way into Gideon’s room without bothering to knock and nudged him in the shoulder.
“Gideon,” Shepherd almost had to shout to be heard over his brother's earth-shaking snores. “Gid, come on, wake up.”
“Wha’?” Gideon wiped drool from his face and twisted to blink blearily up at Shepherd. “The hell - ?”
“Come on, I’ve got a surprise for you,” Shepherd sat on the edge of Gideon’s bed to lace up his boots. “We’ve got to get out early ‘fore it gets too hot. Don’t know how long we’re gonna be.”
Grumbling, Gideon sat up and ran a hand through his unruly bedhead. “What the fuck could be so important that you’re waking me up early after the day we just had? You know, I was planning on sleeping for two days at least. This better be good, Shep.”
“You tell me,” Shepherd said. “You wanna go riding with me on Pork Chop, or you wanna sleep?”
Gideon was silent, so quiet that he probably wasn’t even breathing, and Shepherd knew that he had him, knew that he had his brother wrapped right around his finger. “Tell me you’re not fucking with me, Shepherd, or I swear to the Deep Mother…”
“I’m not fucking with you,” Shepherd laughed as he clambered to his feet, stretching his arms above his head until something in his back popped and released. “I’m going out riding on Red this morning. You want a real lesson on Pork Chop, then you’d better get up and get dressed ‘cause I’m not hanging around out there in the heat for longer than I have to.”
Shepherd left the room and heard the heavy thudding sounds of Gideon scrambling out of bed and wrestling with his boots. He worried that all the noise would wake the Goones’s, but a quick peek proved that they were both still fast asleep, dead to the world.
Now, Shepherd watched as Gideon finally remounted Pork Chop, slinging his leg over the massive back of the metal beast the way he had seen Shepherd do countless times. Beneath him, Pork Chop went from empty and dull to glowing that same blue-gold of ather that Gideon’s third eye shared. With a whirring and the crunching of warming metal, the steed stood to its full height, stomped its feet, and rumbled.
Grinning, pleased as punch, Gideon turned to Shepherd. “Well? We doing this thing or not?”
“Hold your horses – or your bore,” Shepherd replied, just for the way that it made Gideon guffaw like it was the funniest thing in the world. “You sure you’re ready for this, big guy? It’s pretty complicated stuff.”
“Am I ready?” Gideon scoffed. “Shep, I’ve been ready for this since you first got up on a horse and left me behind while you rode off into the sunset.”
“Alright, alright,” Shepherd grinned, taking hold of the reins and wrapping them around his wrist. And Gideon did the same. The reins to Pork Chop were thicker, longer, less like reins and more like the heavy-duty belts they used with conveyors in the mines. “You pay attention now, you hear? I’m not gonna be the one to explain to Rett why you’re coming home with a concussion or a broken bone or something just as bad.”
“You’re such a worrywart,” Gideon said. “Hurry up already. I’m not getting any younger.”
Shepherd adjusted his stance, sat straighter in the saddle, and put his boots more securely in the stirrups. Gideon, watching intently, did the same. “Keep all your weight in the middle of the saddle, alright? Not too far forward, not too far back.”
He had no idea if the mechanical hog would react and respond the same way that a flesh-and-blood steed would, but Gideon still shuffled around until he was sitting exactly how Shepherd told him. “Got’cha.”
“Hold the reins gently, like this,” Shepherd showed Gideon how he was holding the reins between his hands, and Gideon fidgeted with his own reins until the positions matched. “Don’t pull back too hard.”
“Uh-huh,” Gideon was watching intently, with more focused concentration than he had ever paid to anything. It was somewhat disconcerting to be the subject of his three-eyed gaze, watching his every move, replicating his every shift right down to the depth of his breathing. “And then?”
“Don’t look at the horse – uh, the hog. Don’t worry about where its head is pointing,” Shepherd said sternly. This was exactly the kind of thing that Gideon would forget and end up paying for. “Look at where you want to go, at the path you’re on. You hear me, Gid? Do not look at the hog’s head.”
“Fuck me, I hear you, I hear you,” Gideon rolled his eyes. “Then what?”
“Stay calm.”
“I’m always calm.”
Shepherd decided not to answer such a stupid comment. “You might want to fight against the hog, might want to stop it from going someplace you don’t like. Don’t fight it – relax your body, lean into it, follow its motion.”
“Why are there so many steps?” Gideon complained, overwhelmed. “It doesn’t look like there are so many steps when you ride. Why are you giving me so many things to think about?”
There was more to teach him, of course. But really, there would always be more to teach him, and Shepherd would never run out of knowledge to share, but he also knew his brother better than anyone else in the world and knew when Gideon had reached his limit. His brother was a lot of things, but a sponge for information was not one of them. So instead, he sighed and resigned himself to the possibility of picking up the pieces and explaining himself to Rett. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s get on then. You want me to teach you the difference between a trot, a canter, and a gallop?”
Gideon fixed him with a look so displeased that Shepherd could feel it burning into him through the side of his hat. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”
“Fine, fine,” Shepherd relented. “Let’s go. But take it slow, alright, you hear me, Gid?”
“I got it!” Gideon was too excited to bite back at him, restrained energy tense in his muscles that almost made him vibrate with anticipation. “Come on, Shep!”
“I’ll follow you,” Shepherd told him, getting ready. Red stomped at the ground beneath him, kicking up crimson dirt. “Go on.”
He had expected Gideon to take off at top speed and bolt off into the distance, leaving Shepherd to urge Red into an immediate gallop just to catch up. But Gideon urged Pork Chop onward gently, as if savouring the moment, all three of his eyes wide and wild with enthusiasm. Red and Shepherd followed behind at a sedate pace, keeping up with them. When Gideon dug his heels in and Pork Chop shook its head, Shepherd was ready, and when they took off at a wild sprint, Shepherd was ready for that, too.
Gideon let out of whoop of pure delight, swallowed by the wind and carried across the Drylands, the thundering sound of the mighty metal beast beneath him thudding into the dry earth seeming to shake even the mountains, and Gideon’s voice, his shouting and hollering and screaming out, was enough to make Shepherd grin, a smile curling across his face before he could stop it. This was what he always wanted, wasn’t it? He and Gideon, riding together across the plains, working hard to keep up with each other’s steeds as they spent this precious time together. Not many people could keep up with Shepherd when he was really going for it, and in time, when he got a little more hang of it, he doubted that many people would be able to keep up with Gideon either, shying away from the shiny iron beast that glinted blindingly in the sunlight and made these growling-grunting-roaring noises that would’ve scared the shit out of Shepherd if he didn’t know where they were coming from, like a real boar, the metal grinding and shifting, the gears whirring and spinning.
This was one of the things that Gideon had always wanted but could never have. He’d never admit it out loud, of course, but Shepherd knew that he was silently jealous as boys when Shepherd got to ride off on Red to go help out around town, scouting the area or fetching supplies, or just riding with the other cowboys. Gideon was too big and heavy to ride a regular horse without breaking it into pieces before he was ten years old, and he’d had no choice but to stay behind and watch Shepherd ride away. Shepherd had always wanted Gideon to join him, but, well, that just wasn’t possible. But Gideon had made up for it in lots of different ways – he’d helped the rebuilding efforts, had carried the heaviest of equipment and helped built houses, had pulled carts filled with supplies when the horses couldn’t do it, had broken up the rocks to make the well and had helped get a head start on Glitterdeep when the mine was still just an idea.
But that was different. Helping and building and working with your hands was nothing compared to the feel of a horse between your legs and the wind whipping against your skin and your breath being stolen by the speed at which you gallop, the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears as your cries of joy were left behind and silenced. He’d never been able to explain it to Gideon when he’d asked. Gideon probably assumed he was trying to keep it a secret, trying to prevent him from knowing what it was like, but the truth was that he truly just couldn’t explain it. But now, Gideon was learning it all on his own, and he hoped that he didn’t mind it being a decade too late.
The sun rose high in the sky above them, a warning of how long they’d really been out here when they lost track of time so quickly. The Gones’ would probably be awake by now, and Rett was probably wondering where they were. Maybe Shepherd should’ve left a note. But once he saw Red out of the stable and Pork Chop out of the garage, he’d probably figure it out.
Gideon slowed Pork Chop down just enough to ride side-by-side with Shepherd and Red. His skin was sunburnt, and his face was probably hurting from how big he was smiling, windburned and breathing heavy. Pork Chop was unaffected by the hard ride, being made of metal and all. He grinned over at Shepherd, looking more like the young boy from years ago than he had looked in a very, very long time. Free in a way that he never was, childish in a way that he was never allowed to be.
“Race you back to Eden!” Gideon shouted to be heard over the wind and the heartbeat in their ears, the sounds of their steeds working hard beneath him. And then he took off, his laughter snatched from his mouth to reach Shepherd, where he was left in the dust, smiling at his brother’s broad back.
Well, what else could Shepherd really say to that? He spurred Red onwards as he chased after Gideon, and though Shepherd was the best rider in the Drylands with the fastest steed in Eden, just this once, maybe he doesn’t win the race.
It was worth it to let Gideon win his first ever horserace.