One Horse 2 Guys [patched] Page

Then Marcus swung into the saddle, touched two fingers to his temple, and rode east into the rising sun. Elias stood watching until the white coat dissolved into the white sky.

The horse’s name was Coal, which was ironic, because he was the color of fresh snow. He stood in the center of the clearing, breath pluming in the cold dawn like a slow, thoughtful signal. On either side of him stood the two men who owned him—or rather, who shared him. one horse 2 guys

“Then we figure it out,” Marcus had said. Then Marcus swung into the saddle, touched two

Elias, on the left, had raised Coal from a foal. His hands were calloused from brushing that white coat until it shone like moonlight on a pond. He knew the way Coal’s left ear twitched before a storm, and the exact pressure the horse liked when scratching his withers. To Elias, Coal was memory made flesh: the ghost of a farm lost to debt, the last good thing from a life that had since turned to gravel and cheap whiskey. He stood in the center of the clearing,

Marcus could have shot him. Could have spurred Coal into the dusk and disappeared. Instead, he’d poured two cups of coffee.

Next week, it would be his turn again.