Chapter Text
Late nights on the prairie were never that unusual for Yellow, being a cowboy and all. He was certainly no stranger to workin’ in the field, even if it was somethin’ as boring as tracking the weather– though he was good at it. Well, as good as a man stickin’ his thumb in the air and guesstimatin’ the rain could get, at least.
Though when he wasn’t performing his duty as the town’s sheriff, he quite liked the simple pleasures of sightseeing, watching the pretty sun set over the vast grasslands as well as the rare, occasional opportunity to stargaze.
He never really got to do it particularly often, ‘specially not in these summer months. Real shame, but lord knows a man needs to get his work done, lest his gun grows dull. Whatever that meant, Yellow didn’t really know, quite honestly. Somethin’ he’d heard from a real passionate feller up east– the local sheriff of that town, he assumed.
“What was his name again… Stall-oh?” he mumbled to himself, tugging gently at the reins to guide his spotted steed around and shifting his boots to nudge his spurs against the mare’s stomach, moving ahead steadily whilst he scratched at his chin. He’d never been great at names’n faces, ‘cept for a few of his old buddies– and a few ladies– at the saloon back in town.
What could he say? Yellow was a little air-headed, but by sweet tarnation, he was certainly a charmer.
“Ah, whatever, it don’t matter… sun’s plenty beautiful tonight, ain’it Lucky?” he asked with a shrug, patting his horse on the neck as she walked and grinning to himself. “I say, a sight like this calls for a treat… soon as we’re back home, I’ll getcha some sugar shavin’s– once’ve written my field report, that is.”
Lucky simply snorted, ears flickering with visible interest. Not a subtle bone in her body, that one…
“Atta girl…” he said gently, nudging his spurs again to urge her into a trot.
·₊ ⊹ . ݁ 𓃗✮𐚁𓂃🖋𝄞♫♪ ꫂ❁ ݁. ⊹ ₊·
“...and no signs of rain, no siree.”
Yellow scribbled the last few notes as he mumbled, dipping his pen into the ink holder before signing his name at the bottom with messy cursive like most of his reports. Ain’t no time for pretty letters for men in the field, that’s them writers job.
Despite that, he still made sure to draw a little six-point star next to his name, putting shaky lil’ dots on the ends like his sheriff’s badge. What, it was part of his signature, he ain’t a hypocrite. Mostlys.
He put the pen back in its holder and popped the cork lid back on the ink. He almost subconsciously went to wipe his face, but paused at the glance of smudges all over his hands.
“Eeyikes…” he muttered with a light grimace, rubbing his palm on the front of his vest to ‘clean’ it– as if that was any better than just plain smearin’ it on his face. No, he’d need a shower either way, ‘less he wanted to start bein’ the ‘brown’ sheriff.
“...wait, that’s problematic, in’it?” he mumbled to himself as he froze, feeling a mild and vague form of guilt. Yellow wasn’t actually sure why that was a bad thing to say, but boy did he know how to feel bad about it. “...oh, fiddlesticks, I don't's want to be problematic, how'll I take care of my sweet girl if they fire me for bein’ a problem…?”
Quickly shaking his head, Yellow slapped his stubbled cheeks with his palms and grabbed the brim of his hat with his fingers to toss it on the edge of his chair.
“I ain’t’s got time to worry like this, I haven’t even given Lucky her shavin’s yet,” he said as he walked, spurs jingling as he stomped out of his office and towards the private stall next to the building.
Upon entering said stall, Yellow decidedly hurdled himself over the fencing and used his horse to not fall right on his behind.
“Alrighty now starshine, ‘m’here to give ya yer treat, like I told ya,” he grinned, shrugging his vest off his shoulders to toss it over the edge of the stall. In the same movement, he leaned on the ball of his foot to reach for the dandy brush hanging on the wall. “I’ll just brush ya real quick first, getcha nice and purdy again… and then I promise I ain’t delayin’ it any longer, ‘kay?”
Lucky flicked her tail with a huff– a displeased but tolerant sound– as she turned her head away. Yellow didn’t waste the opportunity, bracing his free hand on her flank and brushing her coarse fur. “...how in tarnation didja gets so dirty withouts me noticin’...?” he mumbled with amused disbelief.
Given the time, Yellow would’ve certainly liked to give her a proper dusting, but it was gettin’ far too late to do much of anything, and he had a hunch a certain lady ain’t exactly content with waitin’ much longer. Whatever, as long as he could still see her pretty brown spots, he didn’t mind rushing the job a little for her comfort.
He worked quite efficiently, getting her right side in a flash and already moving to work on the other side. He was a professional, after all… But as he reached the point of her left hip, he suddenly paused, his own ears metaphorically flickering as he heard the wind carrying an impossibly beautiful voice from up town.
“...ya hear that, Lucky?” he whispered, not wanting to overpower the sound of that sweet song, most likely from the saloon. Must be a new performer in town, Yellow would’ve certainly remembered hearin’ a voice like that before, without a doubt in his mind.
And what a voice it was… smooth and deep but carryin’ a powerful tone like nobody’s business. Though it was a bit faint from all the way out here, Yellow could still hear their pretty accent– somethin’ transatlantic with a sweet southern lilt.
Like the moonlit nights on the prairie made sound… oh, of course he just had to be busy with chores tonight, he felt like he was missin’ out big time. Maybe if he left right now, he could still make it ‘fore curtain call and–
Lucky snorted suddenly and scared Yellow, making him stumble forward and nearly bump his nose into the stall. Fortunately, he managed to catch himself before any real damage happened, but boy, was it close.
He quickly fixed himself upright and brushed down his shirt, letting out a mildly flustered chuckle as he playfully knocked his forearm into his horse. “Alright, alright, you wants me finishin’ my job so youse can get yer sugar shavin’s, I get it… I wadn’t gonna leave ya high and dry, starshine.”
The mare snorted again, her inflection almost… peeved? Well, at the very least some sorts of upset about having to wait even a little longer for her treat. Regardless, he brushed her fur again, getting the last bit of dust he’d missed off of her back.
With a quick tap of the brush and a pat on her shoulder, Yellow pulled back to wipe his forehead with his dirty sleeve, likely leaving a smudge of grime on his face as he sighed.
“I’ll’s make time for it tomorrow,” he said with a hum, rubbing the brush against the wall to clear off the hairs. Lucky let out another impatient snort, flicking her tail and nudging her muzzle at the vest.
Yellow simply laughed and set aside his tool, pushing the mare away by her neck as he reached for his pocket. “Yes, yes, I know! I’m bein’ too slow, I know!”