on a steel horse I ride

He could hardly help the fashion in which his gaze....lingered in the wake of his mate. Even as he moved beside her. An eternal shadow to her graceful presence. Her feminine figure seemed to embrace her clothing, even despite its vastly different style to the outfits of Syn. Darcy assured that nothing existed in which Risque could manage to appear anything short of...flawless. Tonight, perhaps, if she was pleased with what he had done. If that dinner appealed to her. He might yet be permitted to enjoy her figure in those ways he alone was allowed. Those very thoughts had a habit of making his mind near hazy. That very want he possessed for his lover seeming to occupy him entirely. At least until they strode outside and toward the waiting horses. The ranch hand was quick to make himself scarce as Darcy had instructed. The vampiric cowboy loath to entertain the foolish minds of humans tonight. That those horses were ready was all that mattered. A handsome blue roan gelding having been hitched beside his own grullo colt. Seth, in all his irritation, pinned his ears at the perceived interloper. The grullo was not inclined to share his space. His temperament had always been a little prone to hotness. Yet- a little heat made a horse quick. Smart. Useful. That ranch had no place for anything unable to earn its keep. Darcy, on that land, near as cutthroat as Risque within the depths of her nightclub. The useless had no place, no purpose- and no right to life.

The cowboy's query on his mate's ability to ride was met with a scoff, her hypnotic gaze cutting sharply sideward at his near implied suggestion that this might be a task at which she did not excel. Darcy simply inclined to dip his head- that obedience inclined to remain even if this was fr more his own domain. If Risque insisted she knew how to ride then so be it. He had suspected as much, after all. He had seen those pictures in the books written from her time. They spoke of ladies and riding and carriages and all manner of things Darcy was damn well assured did a society no good and yet he so hardly dared to speak on. Risque's past, after all, was a topic she was ill inclined to share. The vampiric cowboy had resided by her side long enough to know that some things were better not questioned. Still- that she could sit a horse well enough was all that was needed for tonight. Even if it lacked that saddle of her time. Still- today's saddles were surely an easier model. How anyone rode a horse sitting on the damn side he hardly knew. Risque seemed to consider that very thing, her blue gaze eyeing that western sadly critically before insisting that it had once been expected that women of her time rode only in a side saddle. Her preference for riding 'like a man' having irritated a great many men- her father most potently.

"Dun even know 'ow ya got a a 'orse wit all dem skirts you women was wearin' back den."

That, Darcy had noticed, had been equally prominent in the pictures that accompanied the books he had read. The women were not dressed....in a riding way. Not the way they had been in his day. Sure, they had stillworn skirts or dresses- but not like the ones in the book. Layers upon layers of skirts and corsets and hats- all manner of things that would see a woman get hung up on a saddle as far as he was concerned. Pretty or not some things weren't all sensible.

"Reckon you'll find it a lot more comfortable den any other saddle ya been in. Day make 'em so yar can sit all day. Da 'orn at da front is for 'anging ya rope off or tyin a beast to when ya lassoed 'im."

The sudden flicker of movement upon the verandah prompted the vampire's gaze upward as Risque's tiger loped forward with every intention of joining them. The roan gelding instantly tensed, Seth's own ears pinning once more, a singular foreleg striking out at the ground in both display of warning and discontent. Risque, however, so readily seemed to sense the horse's irritation, a singular command sending the cat away to its place on the porch. Darcy was content to eye the email with disdain in much the same fashion as the horses. Damn cats. Still- their presence seemed to please his mistress. Darcy unwilling, in turn, to have her anything less than satisfied. The roan gelding was told off in turn for his foolishness as Risque moved to mount the creature, Darcy reaching to hold the reins in that gentlemanly fashion before swinging up and onto his own horse. The cowboy offered some explanation for that choice in mounts. His words, this time, seeming to leave his lover near baffled. His drawling accent purposely slowed as he offered that explanation. One the vampiric queen seemed to seize astutely upon. Seth, she insisted, was typical of any male. A soft snort of amusement easily parted Darcy's own lips.

"Reckon yar right. Ain't our fault. All dat blood runs down instead of up. We ain't got none left for thinkin' right."

A distinctly rare chuckle hummed within the vampire's throat then, Darcy moving to swing Seth around before his mate's query saw him pause once more as she asked after the roan beneath her.

"Dat's 'Dark Fang Blue Jean's' we call 'im Denim. He's one o'me colts from 'bout for years ago. Nearly sold him at da auctions but he was quiet like wit a good way o'going. Been a good ranchin' 'orse. Nice pedigree too, but ain't stud quality."

Darcy's head shook softly as he eyed that gelding near critically. That veritable rush of words, once more, seemingly lost upon the vampire. Darcy was near oblivious to how much thicker his accent became in those moments when he might be given that chance to talk about his ranching work. The vampiric cowboy moved to settle himself once more, his heels pressing to Seth's side, sending the horse forward for several steps before abruptly halting once more. One-handed riding, it seemed, was an anomaly to his mate. Along with the idea of neck reining. That, admittedly, he had not stopped to read about within those books and yet none of those horses had been wearing western tack. How readily he should have considered it. The cowboy monetarily irritated at his own lack of thought.

"Reckon it's a lot easier den two hands. Out 'ere ya need yar other 'and for ropin' or shootin'. 'Orse needs to be able to listen to ya with just one and. Use yar right, let yar left jus rest beside ya. Leave dem reins loose. We dun do tight reins out 'ere unless we needin' a real fast stop. Dem fancy 'orses ya got in France, day ain't trained no good. Ain't nothin' lighter on da reins den a good cow pony."

Darcy moved to press his heels to Seth once more, the grullo effortlessly stepping up beside the roan, Darcy eyeing Risque's hand to assure she held the reins right before taping his heels to his mount again. Denim effortlessly falling into place beside him. Both horses, as they should, walking with loose and easy strides, their heads and necks low. Darcy took that moment to hold up his hand once more.

"Ya dun need no contact see? Ain't touchin' 'is mouth none. When yar wanna go left jus touch da reins to the right of his neck."

Darcy moved to simply guide his hand to the left, those reins pressing into the right side of Seth's neck and immediately prompting the equine to turn. Darcy, for now, kept that rein their, the stallion turning a tight circle only for Darcy to lift that rein away. The horse stopped obediently where he had begun.

"Like dat. Same for goin' right. When ya wanna stop just move ya 'and back to yar middle. He'll stop before ya need to do any pullin. Better den dem French 'orses eh? Real obedient like."

One eye rose teasingly upward then, the vampire near inviting Risque to argue before his heels sent Seth forward once more. The pair of horses easily made their way into the forest and up the side of the ridge with far more ease then any car surely would have. Darcy distinctly...content within that rural environment. The normally tense vampire distinctly more...at ease. Even if those predatory senses remained distinctly sharp in every sense. Still, it was damn near nice to be away from Syn, even just for a little. That utter lack of other vampires, of other males, if nothing else, seeming to soothe the southerner. Seth's hooves easily lifted upward and onto that ridge-offering them both a near birds eye view of the ranch below as Darcy brought the stallion to a halt. Affording Risque that chance to look down over the valet beneath them. Even within the dark, the light of the moon above afforded a near limitless view of that sweeping land as far as the eye could see.

"See da ranch down dere? Reckon when you was 'ere last I only had dat land and a bit to da south of it. Now ya see dat peak way off in da distance and dat river to da left, right out dare, looks kinda shiny in da moonlight. I got all dat land now. From dare to dare. Biggest ranch in dis part o da country. Bought it all over da years, or took it. Couple old men owned some of it. Sitting round waitin' to die was all day was doin'. Reckon I helped 'em along."

That momentary simper seemed to find the vampire's features then. Those pointed fangs briefly glinting in the moonlight as Darcy tongue traced his lips in mere consideration of just how that blood had tasted. His mismatched gaze, however, shifted back toward his mate. Land, after all, was money. Land as wealth- and power. In any language or country or culture. Darcy having amassed more of it than any other in that entire part of the state. That, he was certain, was an impressive feat and one worthy of Risque. It would be...shameful to stand as her mate without holding his own. Without raising an empire to rival hers. Even if his own was land and cattle compared to real-estate and liquor. Darcy's hand lifted then to point to a clearing within the trees. Their very species affording them that near superior night vision aided by the moon above.

"See dem beasts in dat clearing down dare? Pure Hereford cattle. Real good eatin' beef. Dat's me breedin' herd. Dem over dare, down dat canyon, dem is mostly steers gettin' ready for market, nearly all Hereford, couple of crossbreeds. Beef prices is real good dis year. Imma get a lot for 'dem More den five dollars a pound at da moment. Most of dem is near on fourteen hundred pounds too....what you reckon, darling? Do ya like what I got for...us?"

The ranch, after all, with all its land and animals and assets was not designed for him alone. It never had been. Darcy having amassed that veritable fortune with that very intention of sharing it with his mate- of further securing that wealth they already held. His mismatched gaze cast sideways, watching Risque in that moment for how that very offering might be perceived. It wasn't right, after all, for a woman to bring everything to a relationship. Syn and everything in it was Risque's own. A kingdom she shared with him, to an extent. The southern cowboy was determined to offer that same in return. Those decades of hard work on that land so designed for them both. Darcy content to do what their kind so desperately struggled to and share his own empire with the only being he was damn well sure was worthy of it.

Darcy

I'm wanted, Dead or Alive