Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be cowboys. (Open to Eudora)
Trekking all the way up to New York from South Carolina hadn't been one of the more fun experiences of Johnny's life, especially considering the fact that he was part of a veritable caravan, hauling horses up to Xavier's School For The Gifted. He'd thought it was a joke when he'd first heard the offer, that someone that far away wanted to buy roughly fifteen horses from the Carolina's herd, especially with what they were offering to pay to cover the inconvenience. But his father had spoken to Xavier himself, and then Johnny was called in to meet the school's headmaster, and he learned the other reasons for the interest.

It wasn't just a normal boarding school. It was a mutant school.

He realized that he recognized the name, after that. It had been in the news recently, since those mutant attacks on the cities. Some of the people there had been involved with it, even, although it had also come out that they'd been controlled at the time. Xavier didn't lie to him about the number of strange events at the school, how they were targeted at times because of what they were, how accidents happened at other times for the same reason. It was one of the reasons he wanted horses there again -- their counselor had suggested starting up a program designed to help some of the students and residents cope better, using the animals. And Xavier wanted to offer Johnny a job in conjunction with that, helping the kids learn to ride and take care of the horses, while taking care of the horses himself. He needed someone in the stables who could help the animals, if traumatic things happened to them. And he could help Johnny with his powers, to boot.

So Johnny had agreed, and now he was finding himself finally pulling up to the school along with the other trucks and trailers bringing the rest of the horses. They went around to the back, unloading the animals and getting them into their stalls, settling them with fresh hay and water and such. He really wanted to take his own out on the grounds, out to the fields you could get to via a path in the forest, see what there was to see and where the horses would be spending a lot of their time. But he still had things to do here, not to mention getting his own bags out of his truck to store up in the room he'd been given. He tipped his hat up a bit, glancing back outside to the sun, which was just starting to hang low in the afternoon sky. ...He could go out real quick.

He went over to the stall that housed his own horse -- a palomino quarterhorse named Chopper, thanks -- and got him saddled up before leading him out, talking to him as he went. They'd both been too many days in the car, a run was definitely needed. For all the horses, really, but that would probably have to wait until tomorrow. He moved up onto the horse's back with practiced ease, guiding him out and breathing in the warm air. Maybe this state wouldn't be so bad after all.


(Open to Eudora)