SWAT Ed: Fox & Bull (Nothing Special 8)

“What’s he doing now?” a young girl asked, standing on the bottom rail of the fence.

“That’s the owner, Mr. Walker… but we call him Big Bull.” Scarlet widened her eyes, drawing some snickers. “Right now he’s soothing the horse by talking gently and petting his muzzle.”

“Wow. Will he bite him?” a tall, lanky boy asked, standing over most of his classmates.

“No, he won’t. Horses love treats, so that’s why he’s nuzzling around Bull’s pocket… he knows there’s carrots in there.” Scarlet’s voice was light and fun, and she made hilarious animal noises when she was teaching. The kids aww’d and wow’d as Bull climbed onto Mercy’s back with a bit more flourish than necessary and began to gallop across the large ring with Garvin riding alongside him on Pepper.

“Look at ’em go!” Scarlet yelled, getting the kids even more excited. “Did you all know that a horse can gallop at around thirty miles per hour?”

A boy gasped. “That’s like a car!”

“But they can run even faster. Who wants to see Big Bull ride fast?” Scarlet hollered, waving her red cowgirl hat in the air. “Come on, guys, Mercy loves to show off. Tell him to go fast!”

Bull groaned under his breath when the kids’ shouts quickly escalated, as if it was such a hassle, but he secretly loved it. Garvin chuckled as he broke away so Bull and Mercy could do their thing. He rode his Appaloosa out into the larger fields where some of the other trainers were working and joined in on the run. It didn’t take long before it became a spirited competition that had the kids and many of the visitors applauding and cheering them on.

Next thing he knew, Bull was smiling and enjoying his business like he did most days, until he saw Fox leaning against the barn watching him, and reality hit him hard enough to rock him in his saddle. Oh yeah. There was someone trying to take all of this away from him.

He tipped his hat at Scarlet and the energetic kids as he trotted past them, all of them staring at Mercy as if he were some magical creature. Bull stopped a few feet from Fox and stared down at him as he approached Mercy with caution. He held his hand out but hesitated just before he made contact with his muzzle. Fox appeared nervous, and a little surprised. Bull imagined not much frightened the SWAT soldier. But it bothered him that Fox was afraid of someone Bull loved and cherished very much.

He climbed down and stood beside his best friend, slowly stroking his jaw. “He’s really gentle,” Bull said, then cleared the roughness from his voice. “You can touch him… He won’t hurt you. I promise.”

“That’s some show you guys put on.” Fox inched closer and touched Mercy’s nose, causing him to lift his head into the contact. Fox smiled, all straight white teeth, his gray eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. Bull was sure he was several years older than him, but right then, Fox looked like a kid who’d found a new toy. “Man, he’s big. Why do you call him Mercy?”

Bull felt one side of his mouth lift even though a pang of sadness hit his heart. “My mother named him that. When Pop told my mom it was time I had my own horse, the first thing she said was, ‘Lord, have mercy.’ She gave him to me for my seventh birthday, and I was so excited to finally have my own horse, I didn’t care what she called him.” Bull patted Mercy’s flank. “He was only two when she bought him. And too much for me to keep up with… but I did.”

Fox smiled warmly, and Bull got lost in the tender way Fox stroked his animal and inquired about his life. “That’s a lot of responsibility for a seven-year-old. Were you ever scared of him?”

“Nah, he’s always been a softy,” Bull grumbled. “And seven ain’t young when you grow up on a ranch. I was mucking out stalls and baling hay when I was four.”

Fox laughed, and Bull found he liked that sound, a lot. It was one he could get used to hearing. “I know they make ’em tough in Texas and all, but you telling me you could haul hay when you were three-feet-tall?”

“Maybe I’m exaggerating a little. But not much.” Bull’s face felt strange as his mouth tilted into a smile with Fox watching him.

They were quiet for a moment, and Bull glanced around to see most of his staff’s attention was split between doing their jobs and being nosy asses. He and Fox were standing close, but they were having a private conversation, so that was warranted. Fox wanted to keep a low profile on the ranch until he had some conclusions, which meant Bull needed to make sure he stood extremely close to Fox so they could speak without being overheard. That was all Bull was doing—talking, nothing more.