A Horse Called Danger - Part 1

Good Morning Friday Fiction Fans!
How are you enjoying the lovely fall weather? It's gotten cooler here and I'm loving getting to wear long sleeves and sweaters. The moon last night was really pretty. Did any of you see it? Since tonight is a full moon, it was large last evening especially when it was on the horizon.

Last evening in class was a lot of fun! I wish you all could have been there. I think my highlight of the night was getting to touch and experience history. :) Perhaps my love of history had something to do with the feeling, but it was just really neat. You'll have to come back on Wednesday to see what I did. :) (Oh, and I took lots of pictures!)

This week was kind of strange as far as writing goes. Since TCR - 2 is written and sent off to my illustrator, I wasn't quite sure what to write. I knew I needed something because I didn't have anything to post. I decided to use a true story I had heard last class from one of the class members and fictionalize it for you. I was hoping to get 1 week, maybe 2, instead I was able to make it long enough for 3 weeks. Then I was debating with myself about what I should write next. Should it be the Graham Quartet or Dr. Morgan or a Thanksgiving story or something else? Well, I think I'll just put a place to vote up on the side bar and you can tell me what you would like. :)

I won't be writing tonight or tomorrow because we are babysitting Pickle Puss, Goofball, Funny Boy and Doodle Bug until Sunday afternoon. It will be fun and who knows what funny things we'll hear them say.

So, here's the first part of the new short story. I hope you enjoy it!

A Horse Called Danger

Part 1

    Let’s gather around the fire, folks. I’ll just add a few more logs. There’s nothing quite like a bonfire on a brisk night out on a ranch, is there? Some of you know me already, but for those of you who don’t, my name is MacArthur Lee Washington Stuart, but most folks call me Art. If it hadn’t been for my Dad putting his foot down, I might have ended up with a dozen general’s names. Dad told Mom that a four star general was high enough in rank, and that no one ought to have to carry more than four names. When I was a boy my friends used to call me General, but I hated it.
    Now, as you folks know, when we cowboys gather around the fire like this, we like to tell stories. Most of the stories are just tall tales, but I’ve got a story for you that’s true. Most people won’t believe it, but nevertheless, I’d like to tell it to you.

    I remember very well the summer I met Danger. My little sister, Ivy, and I had gone to spend the summer with Uncle George and Aunt Julia on the ranch. Dad had some business to do over in Europe and Mom wanted to go with him. She’d always wanted to see Paris, though I never could figure out why, and since Ivy was going to be ten and I was thirteen, I guess they figured we’d be all right without them for the summer. Besides, Grandma lived right down the road from the ranch. We might have stayed with her, but she had such a tiny house and only a speck of a yard, so to the ranch we were going. Uncle George is Grandma’s brother and Dad said he used to spend every summer on the ranch with his cousins since Grandpa was a doctor in a large city. We didn’t have any cousins, but we always had fun on the ranch. Usually when we went it was only for a week or two and Mom and Dad were there with us. This was our first time spending the summer out there and I was delighted. There was just something about horses and cattle and western things that appealed to me, and still does. Perhaps that explains why, ten years later, I’m working on a dude ranch here in Montana. But back to the story.
    Mom and Dad flew us out before they left, and Uncle George and Grandma met us at the airport. I couldn’t wait to get out there. I was looking forward to riding the horses and helping with all the work. The difference between city life and ranch life is night and day and the wide open spaces just called me.
    Our adventure started when we left the airport because Dad, Ivy and I had to ride in the back of the old pickup truck with the luggage.
    “I could have brought the car,” Uncle George said, swinging a suitcase over the side to me. “But I figured if I did, someone would have to walk or we’d have to leave the luggage behind.” He winked at me as he spoke, so I wasn’t sure if that was quite true or not.
    When we arrived, Aunt Julia came out to meet us.
    After we unloaded all the luggage, and since it still wasn’t time for supper, Dad suggested we go out and see the horses.
    I had already changed into my jeans and boots, so I snatched up my hat. “Let’s go. You coming, Ivy?” I called. She usually tagged along with me the first few days until she grew tired of “boy things” as she called it.
    “Yes, wait for me! I’ve got to get my boots on!”
    “Doesn’t she always way she has to get her boots on when we’re going out to see the horses, Art?” Dad asked me with a grin.
    It was true. Ivy never wore her boots around the house and always kept them in her room, so whenever she wanted to go out, she had to run to her room and put them on. At least it didn’t take her long and soon we headed out into the fresh air of the ranch. Uncle George came with us.
    As we came up to the the corral fence, Dad asked, “Hey, isn’t that dark horse over there a new one?”
    “Yep,” Uncle George nodded. The horse was a six-year-old stallion. He was really pretty and came over to say hello.
    Ivy and I had climbed up on the fence to see better. “What’s his name?” I asked, rubbing his face as we admired him.
    “Dandy Boy.”
    “He looks like a spirited fellow,” Dad remarked, patting the horse’s neck. “How long have you had him?”
    “About two months,” Uncle George answered. “If you were staying longer, I’d tell you to take him out for a try.”
    Dad grinned. “I’d like to, but—”
    I knew what he meant. His and Mom’s plane left quite early in the morning and they had to get out there in plenty of time and all that stuff. There wouldn’t be any time for me to ride with Dad before he left unless . . . “Hey, Dad,” I suggested eagerly. “Why don’t we ride this evening?” As he began to shake his head doubtfully, I coaxed, “We could go right after supper, couldn’t we? Please!”
    Dad wouldn’t commit to it and seemed doubtful that we’d be able to, but I hoped until the last minute. It didn’t work. I think Dad must have seen how disappointed I was, for he promised that we’d go riding together when they got back, before we went home.

    The days of summer began to pass by. For a while Ivy tagged along after me, but as usual she eventually grew tired of always ending up at the barn or the corrals, so she stayed at the house more and helped Aunt Julia.

What do you think of the start?

Any ideas of what might happen?