The Stables

Roleplay (Started 4/15/23, ended 4/16/23)

Blue text written by LostMyLeeches, the owner of Valentino

Takes place at the stables, where Samuel, a year into his parole, is looking to make an escape from Silent Run.

~~~

It was dark now, about 11:00 or so at night. It was quiet too, the only sounds being the babbling of the brook just behind the stable pasture and the crickets chirping in the grass. There was a slight drizzle as well, the kind that did nothing more than give your cheeks a cold tickle. Nothing that could soak a fellow's jeans.

Well, all of the peaceful night sounds plus the fast clopping of horse hooves on the dirt road that led to the stable barn. The hoovebeats slowed as the rider got closer to the entrance of the barn.

Valentino had just returned from a rather atypical mail delivery, these days he never really left the town district when delivering mail. However this time, the man at the post office promised a rather pretty penny to whoever was willing to travel about a state over to give someone a package.

Valentino agreed to do it, recently, he had been missing the carefree lifestyle he had lived back in the Southwest. A lifestyle where there wasn't much else but him, a galloping horse, and the open desserts. This delivery was a nice little adventure to the past for him.

Now though, he was back to the present. The horse came to a hault, and he got off from the saddle, removed it's tack, and led it back to it's stall.

He didn't go up to his house immediately though, he walked out the door on the other end of the stable and stood outside for a brief moment with a cigarette. He listened to the sounds of the night and stared off into the currently empty pasture.

~~~

The pasture was empty, alright, aside from a lone figure. It was a man, and he was heading right for the stables, glancing around to make sure nobody was following him. He was a bit of a chubby guy dressed in a black coat and a hat which was rimmed with white studs that reflected the moonlight. All things considered, he'd seem fairly unassuming.

At least, aside from the fact he was sneaking around so late.

Samuel knew he wasn't supposed to be here. Heck, he might get refitted into stripes if he even looked at a horse. That's exactly why he planned this out so carefully, even avoiding any drinks the past few nights so he could be as alert as possible. Usually that might make things worse on his mind, but the prospect of escaping the town kept him focused.

All he needed was a horse. Thinking about horses made him think about Sandy, and thinking about her made him sad. But without any guards on his tail, just about any horse would do.

Eventually he made it to whom he easily guessed to be one of the owners, a little thankful that he wouldn't have to go all the way to the house. The climb up to the stable left him exhausted enough, but he tried to hide it as he wiped off his sweat with a sleeve.

"Howdy there," He spoke with a friendly tip of his hat, although glancing around again to make sure there was nobody else around, "What's it take to borrow a horse 'round here? I'm just looking to do a quick test ride." His face was a little fat aside from a pronounced nose and chin, and it wrinkled as a smile grew on his face. He was trying his very best to seem confident and not suspicious at all.

~~~

They took a long draw from their cigarette as the man approached and spoke to them. They were taken aback to say the least, they checked their watch for the time. It was much too late for the stables to be open for test-rides, he thought that would have been a well-known fact. They looked the man up and down, and proceeded with some caution.

"What it takes is a reasonable hour, it's nearly midnight." He spoke, smoke escaping his lips into a thick cloud into the sky.

"I just got back from Wyoming, that's the only reason I'm up. The stables have been closed since about 6:00pm I'd say. You'll have to come back tomorrow morning, amigo." He took another draw from the cigarette as he finished speaking and began to close the large stable door.

~~~

As Samuel listened to the owner, his smile slowly fell from his face. He hadn't wanted to seem desperate, fearing it might lead to suspicion. When the stable door began to close, however, his heart skipped a beat. He couldn't help himself and rushed forward, raising his voice.

"Now hold it!" He blurted out as he put his hand on the door, "I'm afraid I- uh... won't have time tomorrow. I'll be very fast. Just one small test run."

Trying to hide his anxiety, he smiled again. In his mind, tomorrow morning, or any time in the day for that matter, would be no good. The town would be awake and he'd risk himself getting seen while headed for the stables.

Plus, judging by what the owner said about getting back from Wyoming, this may be his only chance of getting one of those horses at night. He couldn't let it slip anyway. He needed that horse.

~~~

Valentino went from taken aback to straight up on edge now. He became more suspicious of the stranger by the minute. Why would someone need to just "test-ride" a horse at this hour? He held the cigarette between their teeth and lightly placed her hand on the gun in her belt holster, just to be safe of course.

"I told you amigo, we're closed. I'm sorry you won't have time tomorrow but I'm not about to let a stranger ride one of my horses at 12:00 in the morning." They removed the man's hand from the door, still keeping their hosltered pistol withing reach with the other hand.

"And besides that, I don't let my test-riders go off on their own. Oh no, I follow right behind or beside them. I haven't had any troubles with a test-rider before but I like to keep my lasso in reach too. So if you're planning any funny business senor, I suggest you be on your way. He began to attempt closing the doors a second time, hopefully without issue.

~~~

Samuel was growing more frustrated by the minute as he watched his plan start to grow wings and fly away right in front of him. It was visible from the way his eyes twitched and his brow began to tighten. Admittedly, he didn't consider that the owner would be this difficult to persuade. Usually he'd solve this issue with a gun by now, but he didn't have a gun.

He lowered his gaze as they went on, only half-listening as he wracked his brain for some other solution. He was the Night Falcon, for God's sake. Looting a horse from a stable should be so much easier than looting gold from a town.

Just then, however, he suddenly got an idea. "Hey, wait," He spoke up quietly this time, refraining from using any force, "Why don't you come out here? I promise there's no funny business. Why, I'll even keep my hands up, and I give you full permission to pat me down if you have to. I don't even have a butter knife on me."

He spoke more calmly this time around as he raised his arms, a slight, closed smile on his face. This was just about his last resort, but he was beginning to feel confident again.

~~~

He squinted at the stranger skeptically and didn't reply to his offer for about a good minute. He took the cigarette from his mouth and sighed out another puff of smoke, making sure to blow it outside. She did not trust this man, not one bit. However he figured that he likely wouldn't be able to fall asleep so quickly just yet anyways, so might as well just deal with this guy before he tries to bother him again. He put the cigarette back into his lips to take another draw.

"Alright," She began with another smoke filled sigh. "My hand is on my gun, if you try anything you're head is going to turn into target practice. Got it?" They put the cigarette back between their teeth and opened the stable door back up fully, their hand still on their gun as promised.

~~~

As soon as the stable owner started to leave the door, Samuel bolted for it. He had so much confidence in himself that he didn't even think twice about how the owner, unlike him, had a gun. The bullet hole through his hat was proof that he was the fastest man in the west.

He immediately made for the nearest stall, the whole time shouting to himself GO, FALCON, GO! Yet, he might as well have been running with five big barrels of whiskey tied around his back. His shortened stride slowed him down and it felt like the stalls kept getting further and further away. Only a few seconds in and he was already beginning to feel out of breath.

It suddenly struck him that he couldn't really remember the last time he had run. He was in a prison cell for three years, and then he might've gained a few pounds while on parole... But did it really affect him that much?

Well, he did know one thing. He couldn't just quit while he was ahead. So he continued running anyhow, straight for one horse in particular. There was no going back.

~~~

Slightly unsurprised by the stranger making a run for it, Valentino pulled his gun from its holster and began to dart after the man.

"AYYY!! What did I say???! Are you trying to become a bullseye?!!" She yelled, trying to not trip over the various items that were probably laying on the floor in the dark.

She fired a few warning shoots at the ground, honestly really not wanting to kill someone tonight; too much explaining to do to the sheriff and deputy.

Suddenly, he had a better idea than just shooting him.

They reached for the lasso attached to their chaps, and began to swing it once he thought he was at a pretty good distance from the thief. Unfortunately for him though, he didn't catch anything with that lasso but air. They grunted in frustration as the coiled the rope back up and tried swinging again.

"I'm telling you asshole, this is your final warning. Get on one of those horses and I'm getting that gun out again!"

~~~

The warning shots, unfortunately for the stable owner, did nothing but drive Samuel on. Miraculously he didn't trip even once which was probably his only saving grace. Despite how much his jog-paced run was wearing him out, he still felt confident enough to crow in his forgotten outlaw voice.

"You'll never take me alive! Hahahaha!"

Eventually he reached the stall and scrambled to pull out the lock. As soon as the door swung open he practically jumped at the horse mid-run. For just a little while he was transported back to his outlaw days. His capture, prison time, and parole were all but tiny memories in the fringes of his mind.

Now he was a free man. His loyal mare Sandy was waiting for him, and like he'd done a thousand times, he leaped to her saddle. As large as she was, he could always, without fail, mount that horse in just a single bound.

He could see it already. The town disappearing behind him as he rode the horse into the night, his triumphant laughter echoing across the plains as he left that place behind. So you could probably imagine his surprise when he fell short this time. His arms hardly reached over the horse's back and he immediately slid right off.

Not willing to give up so easily, he tried again. And then again. He loudly grunted, both with the effort and in frustration. The horse had to be smaller than Sandy. Yet when he finally seemed like he had a good grasp, his leg simply couldn't get over. He lost his grip and landed heavily on his back, sending up a cloud of dust.

The entire time the horse whinnied and stamped about in the stall, clearly not enjoying this one bit. While Samuel laid there dazed, it wasted no time in kicking him right in the gut, a bit lightly for horse standards, but enough to keep him down for a bit longer. He let out a shout of pain and doubled over. For now the shock was enough to distract from the embarrassment he was definitely going to feel in a minute.

~~~

After another failed swing of his lasso, Valentino placed the rope back onto their chaps and pulled the gun back out of the belt holster. It didn't take him very long to figure out which stall the thief had wandered into, the sounds of someone falling off a horse being painfully obvious.

He laughed, realizing that this "thief" couldn't even mount a bareback horse. There were a lot of things that he found peculiar for a thief about this man, but this just was the icing on top. She walked over to the opened stall and squinted a bit to see the outline of a figure huddled over and a panicked horse stamping about. They giggled to themselves again once they connected the dots and realized that the man had probably been kicked. They walked calmly into the stall (gun still in hand) and began to "shhhhh" at the horse and pat it to calm it down so that it too wouldn't be planning a daring escape anytime soon.

His entertainment was interrupted when he finally realized that the horse was none other than his own personal and most treasured mustang, the appropriately named Cabrón. He cooed at the horse, making it very apparent that he cared more about its well-being rather than that of the man who had just toppled over several times and been kicked.

"Oh, pobrecito! Ese hombre te asusto? Lo siento..." They rubbed its nose a final time before turning his attention back to the man, pointing the pistol directly at him.

"'Right then, get up, put your hands on your head, and tell me who you are while you're at it, dickhead. I'm sure the sheriff will be happy to see both our smiling faces at this hour."

~~~

With a groan, Samuel slowly staggered to his feet, his hat left on the ground. His stomach felt bruised where the horse had kicked him, but what hurt all the more was what he heard from the stable owner. Not so much the stern talking-to, but the laughter. Nobody laughed in the face of The Night Falcon. But after his awkward run and pitiful attempt at mounting that horse, he admittedly felt a little more like a Night Turkey in the back of his mind.

The world tilting a little as he stood, it took Samuel a moment to process what the stable owner had just said. Half-instinctually, he put his hands up. He wasn't kidding when he said he didn't even have a butter knife, after all.

"Ugh, alright, alright..." he mumbled, "Tilley. S-Samuel Tilley." Eventually he realized that last bit of what they said, and panic took a hold of him. His eyes, naturally relaxed even in the face of a gun, widened as big as an owl's. "Now wait- Don't you take this to the sheriff! I'm really sorry about your horse- I-I'll do anything to make it up. Please."

It embarrassed him all the more to be pleading with the stable owner after all that, but nothing else frightened him like the sheriff finding out about this did. He was willing to lose whatever pride he had left at this point if it meant he wouldn't have yet another restriction placed on him. Or worse, he'd go all the way back to square one: stuck in a cramped prison cell without even whiskey to keep him company.

His heart sank even lower as it dawned on him more and more just how wrong this had all gone. He was bucked, humiliated, exhausted... and worst yet- his whole perfect plan of finally getting out of here? It hadn't just crumbled away. It was sliding down a deep, dark hole and dragging him back along with it. It was worse than a failure. It was an utter catastrophe that he only had himself to blame for. Oh, the misery. And damn it all to hell.

~~~

They scrunched their eyebrows in thought once the man finally reviled his name. They weren't actually sure why they even asked, they hardly knew anyone by name in this town anyway so it's not like he'd recognize it. Either way, they raised an eyebrow when Samuel apologized and begged for him to not tell on him to the sheriff.

"Well, Mr. Tilley, I can't say I really forgive you, I think the sheriff and or deputy should really get involved, shouldn't they?" He paused for a brief moment to gesture for Samuel to get out of the stall and start walking with him, the pistol still directly facing the man's head.

"You tried stealing one of my fastest, healthiest, and quite frankly my favorite horse. I caught him myself, you know? Down south in New Mexico. It's hard to find a one of a kind mustang like that, and you're giving me a suspicion that perhaps your plan here was to try and take him for yourself and sell him off. But clearly, you couldn't even mount the damn thing so I really don't think you thought this through in the slightest." He scoffed, rolling his eyes slightly at the last few words.

~~~

Slowly beginning to realize there was little arguing himself out of this one, Samuel hung his head low as he walked out of the stall. He let the stable owner lead the way, not even having the energy now to run away again even if they didn't have a gun. He was spent both physically and mentally. The words utter catastrophe kept spinning around his head like a flock of nuisance birds.

The stable owner continuing to scold him certainly didn't help, either. He was beginning to grow annoyed at the incessant judgement when one thing he said in particular struck a nerve.

"Sell him off?" He echoed, grumbling, "I wasn't going to sell him off. I was going to escape, dammit. You think I don't know what it's like to love one of those animals? I had a favorite horse, too, once. A mare. She was probably faster than yours. I could mount her with one jump like nobody's business. Why, if she were here right now, I'd prove it to you, and- and-"

Suddenly he stopped and made a pained face, his eyes shutting tight as he grimaced. "My hat," he glanced back in the direction of the stall. If he could still have at least one thing out of all this, then it'd be that hat. He wasn't about to leave his only prized possession in this place.

~~~

"Oh escape??" They said with a slight hint of surprise in their voice.

"Well that's either a peculiar way to put "I'm moving and leaving town" or you just outed yourself as a runaway prisoner! My my, now the sheriff and deputy will be even more excited to see you! What are you in for, Mr. Tilley? Murder, bank robbery....horse theft....?" He smirked at that last line, implying that if he wasn't in for that, he certainly would be now.

"Well, since your mare isn't here I think we'll just assume my mustang is faster. I don't think you'll be seeing her again anytime soon."

Still holding the gun to face him, he removed the lasso from his chaps yet again and walked behind Samuel. They quietly put the gun back in their belt holster and grabbed both of his hands, tying them up behind his back with the lasso rope. Once they finished, they pulled their gun out again.

"Hat?" They mumbled turning back to the stall and squinting. There was in fact a hat sitting on the floor, and he figured "Oh why not," and walked back into the stall, retrieving the hat and shutting and locking the door behind him. They placed the hat on Samuel's head (rather poorly.)

"There, I don't want your dingy old hat, amigo. You can take that to jail with you."

~~~

When Samuel realized that he might've let a little too much slip out in his moment of anger, it was like that blasted horse kicked him in the gut a second time. Remembering what was at stake frightened him again. He also groaned in exasperation at himself, wondering how he could possibly be so stupid or make this any worse.

"I'm no prisoner. I'm on parole." He replied after the stable owner put his hat back on as if the two things were apples and oranges, "I was reckless back then, and it's all in the past. I really don't know what got into me this time."

As tempted as he was to instead gloat about what he did, lots and lots more than just stealing some bird-legged colt, he thought better of it. Of course, he already must've looked silly with the way the owner put his hat back on all twisted. He felt all the more helpless with his wrists now tied up.

"I promise it wouldn't make much difference, anyway. The sheriff knows me well," Samuel went on to plead, "Why don't we both save ourselves the trouble and keep this between the two of us? I'll never show my face 'round here again. We can each go home and forget the whole thing."

Struggling to look over at the stable owner with one eye covered by his hat, he nervously grinned, trying not to think about their gun.

~~~

"Oh yes, because parole is all that different. And yeah, hate to break it to you but you're certainly still reckless, just without as much success so it seems."

He rolled his eyes at the incessant pleading, not really caring or being persuaded in the slightest at this point. They figured that once he was turned into the police again, that it wouldn't be a problem of his anymore. So, that is what they were going to do.

"Oh please, won't show your face 'round here again? Well I highly doubt that, considering earlier you said you were just "looking for a test ride and wouldn't be available tomorrow." You ever heard of the boy who cried wolf? That's what you sound like to me right now- I can't trust a word that comes out of your mouth."

At last, the two at reached the the of the stable at the main entrance. Once outside, the rain proved to have picked up a bit. It was slightly stronger than the initial drizzle, and it meant that the two were going to have to walk on a cold Montana night with even colder rain drizzling down on them. Valentino groaned, but continued on towards the police station anyways. He wasn't really sure if anyone would be in there, but god he hoped there would be. It would be a good 5 or so minute walk to get there nonetheless, and he didn't want to walk even further to either of the officer's houses.

~~~

Samuel's smile quickly fell as he realized that nothing was going to phase this guy. Words were useless, his hands were bound up, and based on how well his horse theft went, trying to run now wouldn't do him much good, either.

And to think he used to be nicknamed the Falcon. Now he looked at himself and wondered why he thought he could ever make that jump, suddenly feeling more like he must've gained around fifty pounds or more during his parole. The least he could've done was have a backup plan. But he'd put so much faith in himself that the idea hardly even crossed his mind.

Finally going quiet, Samuel just glowered at the stable owner the whole rest of the trip. Directing his anger towards them didn't help much, though, as he was still being dragged to the sheriff either way.

Worst yet, it just had to be raining. He wondered if nature was feeling sorry for him or simply mocking him. He quickly decided it must be the latter. The rain forced the rim of his hat down over his face and his clothes started to get soggy. His hands twitched uncomfortably in their rope and he shivered a little.

How the stable owner put up with it, he had no idea. But it just showed all the more how adamant he was about taking Samuel in. There was obviously nothing he could do to change their mind the more the two of them went on.

Soon enough, the police station started to come into view. And, just his luck, light shown through the windows.