#PLEASE RETURN MY COWBOY MARSHAL MAN TO ME I MISS HIM SO MUCH

[cobbbvanth]

COBB VANTH: THE MARSHAL OF MOS PELGO

@pscentral event 14: your url // @lgbtqcreators event 11: team colours + bingo: animation // insp [x]

[marjaystuff]

Elise Cooper Interviews Melissa Senate

In The Cowboy Comeback, Amanda Jenkins and Holt Dalton's met at camp ten years ago. He was a poor 18-year-old who was only working in the kitchen of the camp because he was ordered to work there by a judge. Holt wasn't necessarily a criminal, but he did some very dumb things in his past. Amanda wasn't extremely rich by any means, but she was from a comfortable background. When camp ended, they parted. Life took them into two different directions where Amanda was leery of love, and Holt was left with a son whose Mother wanted nothing to do with the child. When they meet up again at an animal refuge/shelter they reconnected, in part because of his son. Amanda agrees to tutor him to help improve his reading.  As time goes by Amanda and Holt realize that they might want to rekindle their relationship.

The other book released this summer is A Family For A Week. Axel Dawson, Daisy’s brother is hailed as a hero after he found the heroine, Sadie's toddler son, who wandered off in the mountains. Sadie’s family decided to have a reunion at the Dawson Family Dude Ranch. After hearing her sister is now engaged, Sadie shares the news with her great grandmother. Having misheard, she thinks it's Sadie who's now engaged to Axel, who's already made clear that he's not interested in any such commitment. Too bad Sadie's dream to find the right man for herself and her son isn't going to happen with Axel, in spite of her hopes. But having been forced together Axel might be having second thoughts.

Elise Cooper: Children seem to play a large role in each book?

Melissa Senate: I love to write romances that feature babies and children and how they affect the hero and/or heroine. I’m particularly drawn to exploring how children change the characters’ outlooks on themselves, on life, and on their relationships.

EC:  In The Cowboy Comeback Robbie stole the story?

MS: It takes a village to raise Robbie with all of Holt’s family and Amanda. I’m touched to hear that Robbie stole the story even though he probably shouldn’t have! I felt so close to that little boy and his issues and troubles and triumphs. And I loved the idea of showing that Holt, his father, would need to actually let people close to him in order for Robbie to have the support he needed. This includes his family, even the ones Holt didn’t particularly get along with, like his father. I loved exploring how Robbie’s character helped facilitate the changes in their relationship.

EC: Please describe Robbie?

MS: A chatterbox, energetic, felt the loss of his absentee-mother.

EC: He is not a good reader-how many remember not being in the high reading group?

MS: Robbie’s mother left when he was very young and he grew up aware that his mother wasn’t in his life. I think Holt tried to compensate for that best he could, trying to be everything to Robbie. I really loved writing his devotion to his son—letting Robbie be the whirlwind he is while giving him guidance and protecting him from his gruff grandfather and from the way Robbie felt at school with his reading level. I remember when my son was in kindergarten and first grade and wasn’t learning to read as quickly as some kids in his class; he was so aware of it—that letter on the spine that told everyone what level he was. One thing I love so much about writing fiction is that you can fix anything that bothers you, and I gave Robbie back his confidence.

EC: How would you describe Holt?

MS: A good father, stubborn, the past affects his decisions. Definitely stubborn, a devoted father, but a man who can’t let go of his past and is letting it define him too much. Part of that is helped along because his father serves to remind Holt of who he used to be. And when he runs into Amanda, the girl from ten years ago, he let believe he was a different guy altogether. He never let on he was someone in trouble with the law or assigned to their summer camp by court order. She also reminds him of that guy he was and he gets stuck. Coupled with Robbie’s issues, Holt feels like he’s not getting life right. But Amanda—and his son’s love—helps him see he absolutely is.

EC: How would you describe Amanda?

MS: A bookworm, shy, someone who wants a child. Amanda is guarded because of a past heartbreak and I love how her concern for Holt’s son is at the forefront of her trying to ignore her fear of getting her heart broken by Holt again. She really cares about Robbie—and Holt. I like that she’s independent and knows what she wants, but there’s a lonely aspect to her characterization, and I was very happy when she gave into her love for Holt.

EC:  How would you describe the relationship in each book?

MS: “I’m you and you’re me” comes right from my love of the novel Wuthering Heights, which I read for the first time at 12. To be honest, my love of that book is all because of Heathcliff’s and Cathy’s relationship UNTIL he runs away and turns horrid. He overhears her supposedly disparaging him and runs off, missing the part where she says: “I am Heathcliff.” For Holt and Amanda, as 20 year olds, that was how they felt about each other. I’m you and you’re me. But now, ten years later, heartbreak and life do a number on them—avoidance, running away—until they find themselves so they can then find their way back to each other.

EC:  The Cowboy’s Comeback theme is about learning who you are and what are your strengths/weaknesses?

MS: I’d say the book’s heart is about self-acceptance and redemption and how, sometimes, the hardest person to prove everything to is yourself.

EC: Favorite things in both books-how much are yours and are real?

MS: I love this question. I love what a close reader you are and that you pick up on these elements!

EC; Happy Heart Animal Sanctuary real or based on something-are you a dog or cat person?

MS: There are real animal sanctuaries, quite a few in Maine. I love the idea of them. I’m both a dog and a cat person—I have one of each. A shepherd mix named Flash and a black and white cat named Cleo. The cat likes the dog more than the dog likes the cat; he’s a little afraid of her and doesn’t seem to understand what she is.

EC: Here are the topics and you can provide a quick answer?

MS: Wild West Ghosts Legends: I love adding legends to my books

Turkey and Provolone sandwich with French fries: I do a love a turkey and cheese on baguette with a side of fries. I wish I had that right now.

Western movies: Love all things western.

Marvel and DC movies: If my son, from the age of 6, hadn’t begged me to take him to see all these superhero movies, I would have never known how much I love them.

Orange color: I do love the color orange.

Favorite season: My favorite season is really fall, even though it becomes winter, and winter in Maine is only fun in December for the first few beautiful snowfalls, then it becomes unbearable until mid-April.

The Love Game: I’m pretty sure these types of games with probing personal questions for couples exist but I’m not sure!

EC: Do you like writing about single moms?

MS: I really do. I’ve been a single mom since my son was 4, and he just turned 18, so it’s a world I know well! There’s just a lot to probe about both a single mom with a lot on her plate, emotionally, financially, etc., and a hero who doesn’t think he has what it takes to be a good dad. I like changing his mind. ☺

EC: How would you describe Axel, Mcgorgeous?

MS: Ha, did I refer to him as McGorgeous? I don’t remember that! But I used to be a big Grey’s Anatomy watcher, so I’m sure I did. I’d describe Axel as feeling like he’s between lives, not quite comfortable in his new role on the family ranch, rocked by how much this single mother and her toddler son, who thinks of him as a hero, are coming to mean to him. They completely crack open his heart and world.

EC: How would you describe Sadie?

MS: Independent, sweet, kind, knows what she wants of life, forthright. Definitely independent, a single mother protective of her little boy and of her heart. I love how close she is with her family, the generations of strong women rallying around her.

EC: What role does Sadie’s family play and how would you describe them?

MS: I loved creating her family and that pushy, noisy, well-intended busybody type aunt and grandmother and great-grandmother are ones I know well! They’re in your face but when you’re upset or hurt, they’re the best people in the world to have around you.

EC: What role does Daisy play in the story?

MS: I love Daisy Dawson; she was a big part of the first book in the “Dawson Family Guest Ranch series” (For The Twins’ Sake), then had her own book in “Wyoming Special Delivery Series,” and maybe because she’s the only sister of six siblings, I give her a big presence in each book. She’s the glue of the Dawson family, demanding get-togethers and family dinners.

EC: Can you give a shout out about your next book in each series?

MS: My next book is the fifth book in the “Dawson Family Ranch series,” The Long-Awaited Christmas Wish, featuring Rex Dawson. He’s a burned out US Marshal who finds an message-in-a-bottle in containing a foster child’s fifteen-year old Christmas wish, and he has to know if her wish—to be adopted by a family—ever came true. He finds struggling single mother Maisey Clark much closer than he ever expected—working right on his family ranch, the last place he expected to return to. The other series, “Montana Mavericks: What Happened To Beatrix? Series,” which this book, The Cowboy’s Comeback is part of, continues on every month with a new book by a different author through December.

THANK YOU!!

[hellsangelsheavensrejects]

The Purgatory Files: You Move Me (Into the Dark): Chapter 1

CW: Child endangerment.

When Wynonna stepped into the BBD office at the precinct at an hour far, far too early for a Saturday morning after a long, sleepless night, and set two Styrofoam cups of tar-like coffee on the conference table, she was surprised to find a very large powdered-sugar doughnut pushed at her by a certain wizard.

Wynonna peered down at the doughnut, then at Harry. “What’s this?”

Harry blinked a few times, then looked down at the doughnut with an exaggerated expression, as if to make sure it really was a doughnut. “It’s a doughnut, Wy. Unless I really need to get my eyes checked.”

A little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she accepted the proffered confection. “No eye exam necessary. Just wondering why the hands-on service.” She took a bite out of the doughnut and made a pleased sound, eyelashes fluttering. “Not that I’m complaining about hands-on service. I like hands to be on.” A piece of the doughnut got caught in her throat right about the time she became aware of the accidental innuendo she had made. She coughed and waved a finger for clarification. “In service, I mean.” Right. Not much better. She sighed. “Okay, yeah. Fine. Embrace the innuendo, Wynonna. Become one with the innuendo.”

Harry, the asshole, was standing there snickering at her. “Good to know you appreciate the many and varied things these hands can do.”

She had to clear her throat one more time– dammit, why did he have to look so smug? And tall? And with those gorgeous eyes and an ass that– CHRIST, Wynonna. She managed a smile, as if her brain hadn’t started mentally undressing him of its own accord a mere second and a half ago, and picked up one of the Styrofoam cups, holding it out to him. “Coffee? See, I can do hands-on service too.”

Harry waggled his eyebrows at her. “Most impressive,” he said, drawing the words out with a terrible faux-European accent as if he were a cheesy TV villain.

“You need a bad mustache if you’re going to keep doing that accent.”

He tilted his head towards the steaming cups of coffee on the table. “Two cups? All for me? Good call. I turn into a pumpkin at midnight if I don’t get my daily I.V. drip of caffeine. And believe me, you wouldn’t want that. I met a pumpkin guy once. Wasn’t fun.”

Wynonna raised an eyebrow, that look of wry amusement that showed up whenever Harry was around slipping back onto her features. She could never quite tell if he was bullshitting or not. Probably was this time, though. Seriously, a pumpkin guy? Obviously bullshitting. “Two cups, yeah. But one’s for me. A girl’s got to have a good wake up, you know.” She picked up one of the cups and offered it to him.

“Well, damn,” He said, shaking his head as he accepted the cup. “And here I thought you were just being extra generous. You know, ‘cause you like me so much.” He reached for one of the cups. “Guess one will have to do.”

“I was being generous. One cup of Nedley’s brew could pass for unlawful punishment. It’s because I care, Harry.” The words were said sarcastically, but only on the surface. Because it was true, Wynonna did care for him.

Quite a lot more than she would ever be willing to admit. Not when things seem to be going so smoothly between them. It had been nearly a month to the day when he had dropped into her life from out of the blue, and she had almost hit him with her truck. Well, she hadn’t precisely almost hit him, but she could have hit him, if she hadn’t seen him and stopped.

Of course that would be how she would meet a man. Not that there was anything between them, of course. But he was a man. And she met him. Therefore the statement was accurate.

Lifting the steaming beverage to his lips, Harry took a sip of the bitter, black liquid and grimaced at the taste. Wynonna watched him, one corner of her mouth twitching. Nedley’s coffee was… interesting, to say the least. But a look of satisfaction passed over Harry’s face, and his head tilted in a slight nod.

“I would’ve gotten you two cups,” he mumbled, clearly trying to hide his smirk behind the Styrofoam. Really, that seemed to be his default expression around her.

She took a sip of her own coffee, sans the grimace that Harry displayed.  Her own lips pulled up into an amused smile at that particular thought, dimples appearing as she did so. “Aw. That’s sweet. A little wasteful since it’s even worse cold. But sweet.”

That’s close to admitting I like him. Isn’t it?

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said. “I think it makes a nice contrast to this tall, dark, and dour thing I’ve got going here.” He arched a brow and gave Wynonna a studied, somewhat inscrutable look, one corner of his mouth turned up.  “I have layers. Like an onion.” A broad grin flashed across his long, angular features, and he wagged his eyebrows at her, Tom Selleck style. “You just gotta unpeel me a bit first.”

“The first two are accurate, but I can’t think of you as dour when I’ve seen you in a pair of pink sweatpants and a Celine Dion shirt��” Sometimes the lost and found of the Purgatory Sheriff’s station gave her unexpected enjoyment. “–with your cowboy boots and that jacket.”

“C’mon,” Harry complained. “You’re killin’ my grimdark superhero vibe here. I work hard on that shit.”

“What superhero talks to a skull?”

You just gotta unpeel me a bit first, she thought. I bet that wouldn’t be a bad looking sight.

The somewhat delayed replay of that statement in her mind and the thought that followed it veered towards a visual that was decidedly not that of an onion, surprising Wynonna so suddenly that she had a small coughing fit.

Harry stepped beside her and gave her a good, solid slap on the back.  “Careful there, Trouble. Coffee is for drinking, not inhaling.” A quick glance at his face told her that he was wearing an infuriatingly smug smile, and she suddenly had the uncanny certainty that he knew she’d been thinking about him and… peeling.

Heh. Asshole.

She gave one last cough before gracefully moving out of arm’s length to grab up the right case file. And to get out from under his touch. Not that it was a bad one. It wasn’t in the least.  But nothing good could come from casual touches and innuendo.

Not when they were dealing with a…something or other from hell that liked to snatch kids.

Innuendos could wait.

Missing kids couldn’t.

Harry took the folder from her and began rifling through its contents.  “So, what’ve we got? More bad juju in Purgatory?” His voice pitched to a flat, sardonic drawl. “I just can’t believe it.”

“Purgatory is pretty much saturated with bad juju,” she told him once she stopped coughing. “But this one is…” the Heir shook her head, sobering immediately. “It’s taking kids.”

All amusement deserted Harry’s expression when Wynonna divulged that particular detail. His lips compressed into a thin line and a muscle jumped in his jaw. “Kids,” he echoed. His voice was pitched low, a dangerous edge sharpening the lone syllable.

People who hurt women and children always set him off. She wasn’t sure of the reasons. Maybe he was just old fashioned, maybe he was chivalrous, or maybe, like far too many men she had encountered, he was just a chauvinist pig who hid his sexism behind a benevolent facade, but the reaction did seem to be deeply ingrained and reflexive. He took a slow, deep breath, and Wynonna knew he was trying to rein in his emotions before his magic went wild and caused a power outage– though the lights flickered erratically for a few seconds.

“Okay,” he said finally. “Give me the details.”

She perched herself on the edge of the table. “Nedley and Haught have gotten a handful of missing persons cases. In each report it’s been a kid that just…disappeared. No note, no ransom calls, no reason. Every family member in every case is revoltingly squeaky clean too.”

Harry paged through the file as Wynonna spoke, frowning at the photographs of the children with their families. Sunny photographs of ball games, days in the park, horseback riding, Christmas mornings in the snow.

The sort of childhood Wynonna knew he had been denied. She tried not to notice the sadness in his eyes as he perused the photos, but she did anyway. Was he wishing he’d had what they’d had? Or was he just hoping that they had been happy while they had been alive to experience that?

“Seven kids,” he mused. “All firstborn.”

“There some occult significance to that number?” a new voice from the doorway asked in a rumbling baritone.

Harry glanced up and nodded curtly. “Dolls.”

The Deputy Marshall didn’t nod in return, but eyed Harry carefully before stepping into the room. “Dresden.” Dolls turned his head, and he did nod to Wynonna, his expression softening minutely as he did so, and there may have even been a hint of a smile touching the grim line of his mouth. “Earp.”

Wynonna smiled reflexively, greeting Dolls with a nod in return. Her gaze moved from a just-arrived Dolls then to Harry.

A muscle twitching in his jaw, Harry studiously continued flipping through the file, eyes flitting through the notes, letting the question hang in the air for a few seconds more than was probably strictly necessary. You could taste the sudden overabundance of testosterone in the air. Jesus. We seriously don’t have time for this, she thought.

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the table, moving from between the two to where she’d set down her coffee.

“Now that we’ve got a refresher on last names could we cut the intense looks and concentrate on this?” The word this was punctuated by Wynonna holding up the flyer of a little girl that couldn’t have been more than twelve. Though it was not an exact mirror of the incident when the seven (another seven, unlucky number) revenants invaded the Earp Homestead all those years ago, it still tore at that raw, never healing wound that was Willa’s disappearance and death.

“We’ve got missing kids, a whole lot of things coming up unlucky seven, and we’re in the Ghost River Triangle. Thanks to what Harry just said, I don’t think that’s a coincidence. And I really don’t want an apocalypse because I just got these boots last week so let’s do what we do best.”

To their credit, both men looked suitably chastised. They exchanged the briefest of glances, and then set to work.

“You could say there’s some significance, yeah,” the wizard said finally. “Just a bit. It’s vitally important in Biblical numerology. The number of spiritual perfection. Or… completion. The seven days of creation. Resting on the seventh day. Sacrificial animals had to be seven days old. Seven stems on the original menorah. Seven days of atonement for the altar. List goes on and on. It’s big mojo in Bibleland.” He flicked his eyes up at Dolls, then to Wynonna, lingering on her for a few seconds before dropping his gaze back down to the file. “Also linked to the Apocalypse. Seven seals. Seven trumpets. Seven bowls of wrath. Seven partridges in seven pear trees.”

Wynonna frowned; the detail about each child being a firstborn wasn’t something she’d thought about taking note of. Which was a little ironic, all things considered. She held a copy of the MISSING flyer for the most recent case, willing herself to think of any other details she could have possibly missed.

When she couldn’t she sighed heavily, shaking her head at herself. She should have noticed something. Anything. Then, “We need to figure out how they’re all connected. It’s Purgatory. There has to be some sort of common thread… ”

Harry frowned deeply, his brow furrowing in concentration. “Purgatory. Hm. Small town. Limited number of people. Limited options for… procreation.”

“Yeah, yeah. Limited dating options. Preaching to the choir here.”

Harry looked at Wynonna. “How many people in this town are related, even distantly? What major family lines live here?”

Wynonna made a face at Harry’s question. “I never tracked it but there’s probably a shitton. Us, definitely.” She veered away from the fact that the Earp firstborn was already dead. No use lingering there. “Cryderman. Hardy…It’s a tangled web.”

“Okay. First things first. I’m going to do a tracking spell, but I need something connected with the kids. Biological material is better– hair, fingernail clippings, things like that. Dolls, you’re the one who’s been interacting with the families so far. Can you get hold of those things?”

The Deputy Marshal narrowed his eyes at Harry, but after a moment he gave a curt, silent nod. Harry returned with a nod of his own and turned to Wynonna.

“Wy, while he’s doing that, let’s go look for family connections. Bloodline connections. Would that sort of thing be catalogued in the library?” He arched an eyebrow. “There is a library in Purgatory, isn’t there?”

Dolls saved Wynonna from responding how she wanted to by answering Harry before she could. “Yes. Should hold the genealogical records.” He levelled his eyes on Harry. “What’re you thinking?”

“Working on the details. But if there’s a connection in the bloodline, that’s probably the deciding factor.” He looked up from where he had been scanning the police reports. “These reports have been sanitized. I’ve seen it before. Something weird or unexplainable shows up in a case, it gets glossed over. BBD isn’t going to grab up some random child kidnapping case; you’re on this for a reason. What’s being withheld here?”

Wynonna shrugged a shoulder as she reached out for the papers that they’d just been going through. The sanitization was still somewhat out of her purview. Her gaze joined Harry’s as it moved towards Dolls.

The BBD Deputy Marshal folded his arms across his chest, eyes never really shifting away from their ‘Occult Consultant’–A slightly ironic moniker considering the fact that the whole division itself was occult based. He obviously still didn’t trust him. “It’s not the first case of first born children being taken. Overall.”

Harry arched an eyebrow. “Oh? Do tell.”

“We have cases dating all the way back to the nineteenth century. Usually just one or two at a time, all firstborn. A lot of the victims were related to the kids that were taken recently. Some distantly. Some directly.” The Deputy Marshall eyed Harry’s pentacle. “All of them were taken round about this time of year. Mid to late October. I understand that’s a pretty important time for you… people.”

The subtle barb– or accusation?– in Dolls’ words elicited a slight narrowing of Harry’s eyes, but nothing more. Wynonna drew a longsuffering breath and willed herself to keep from rolling her eyes at the two men. “Samhain. October 31,” Harry said. “It’s a time when the barriers between worlds are practically nonexistent. Good time for raising things that have no business being raised. I’d be interested in the local folklore surrounding Halloween– ghost stories, cryptids, weird phenomena in the sky, weather anomalies, things like that. If they were raising something, there were bound to be omens and incidents.” He glanced down at the photos still in his hand. When he spoke again, his voice was low and hard. “Did they ever find any of the kids?”

“There’s not exactly a difference between Halloween in Purgatory and…every other day in Purgatory,” Wynonna pointed out. “If there has been shit going down it was pretty under the radar until now.” So what changed?

Dolls’ subtle suspicion dropped a level or two. He stayed silent a beat before shaking his head. “Not alive. Not in one piece.”

“Right,” Harry said. “Then I suggest we get cracking on this. Wynonna, you and I can hit the library and see what bloodline connections we can find. You know more about the locals than I do, so you can watch for anything that could be relevant while we do our digging. Dolls, after you collect the samples from the families, you take the historic and paranormal angles– folklore, unexplained sightings, weird history, that kind of thing. And dig up those old case files. We’ll meet up back here tonight to compare notes and draw up the next step.”

Dolls listened to Harry’s whole spiel with raised eyebrows, then said, “Funny. I don’t recall you having rank over me, Dresden.”

“Hell’s bells.” Harry passed a hand over his face. “Can we just get past this pissing contest for five minutes so we can work together and find these kids while they might still be alive to find?”

“Who’s pissing? All I’m saying is that your credentials are… questionable. You show up out of the blue, conveniently a supposed partial amnesiac, insinuate yourself into our cases, and claim to be an expert in all things occult while calling yourself a ‘wizard,’ of all things. Yeah, you’ve proven that you have some kind of paranormal abilities, but you’ve given no solid indication as to where those abilities come from, how they work, or if they’re a threat to us, beyond just your word, which means all of nothing to me without evidence. So let’s get one thing straight, right now, Dresden. You’re here to work for us, not the other way around. That clear?”

Harry returned Dolls’ glare, but he nodded. “Crystal.” He couldn’t blame the guy, really. He’d be just as suspicious if the roles were reversed.

“Good,” Dolls said with a nod. “Earp, escort Dresden to the library and look through what records you can get your hands on.” The unspoken order to keep an eye on Harry was still clear. “I’ll reach out to contacts and see what I can come up with.”

Wynonna counted to ten in her head, wondering how the hell she’d become the most mature out of the three people in the room. Like that’s not a scary thought alone.

“Got it. Musty paper archeology. She canted her head slightly, a touch of annoyance on her features. “You’re getting dinner tonight,” the Heir informed Dolls as she walked out of the room.

[ravengirl94]

Angel in Blue Jeans

Summary: Dean falls in love with a cowgirl

Pairing: Dean x Cowgirl!Reader

Word Count: 1,700

Warnings: language

A/N: a little horse-y drabble I wrote recently. It’s sorta based on me (cringing as I wrote that) (I sort of hate myself for this) (gonna go hide) and my favorite horse. That’s why there are specifics like hair and eye color. Sorry. More parts, maybe? I have some ideas for it.

Dean hauled himself out of the impala with a grunt, muscles still protesting from the werewolf hunt a few days ago. The long car ride likely hadn't helped much, but it sounded like a pretty nasty shifter case so he and Sam had high-tailed it across the country to Wyoming. The most recent lead had them pulling onto a large farm to speak with a victim's brother. It was mid-afternoon, the sky a brilliant blue and dotted with fluffy white clouds. The sun was strong, but it was only May, so it wasn't too hot yet. Their work boots kicked up dust as they made their way down a wide path flanked by fencing, heading towards the large barn.

A rapid beating sound was the first thing Dean noticed. It was like thunder, approaching quickly from behind, making him flinch away. A horse flew by on the other side of the fence, a blur of black and white, kicking up a cloud of dust and obscuring his view. When it finally settled enough for him to see, the horse was on the far side of the ring already, still running. But his eyes didn’t linger on that horse, its powerful muscles straining to go, to run, to practically fly over the ground.

The girl on its back caught his entire soul in one fleeting glance.

She had a wild grin on her face, her hair flying out behind her in the breeze. Where anyone else would be terrified by the speed and the possible danger, she was laughing. She maneuvered the horse around the ring easily, proving that despite their speed, she was the one in control. The horse obeyed her every thought, and she hardly had to move where she sat on its back even as it turned this way and that, clearly following unspoken directions. 

It was like time slowed down as Dean watched her, stared as the horse worked around the ring. He stood there, entranced by the partnership, the teamwork, the power of that girl up there getting such a large creature to bend to her will. But it was more than that. It wasn't done by sheer force of will. There was trust there between them, an incredible unbreakable trust that could only be developed between man and beast, girl and horse. Her golden hair shone in the afternoon light, the belt buckle at her waist sparkling in the sun. She performed a number of maneuvers that Dean didn't understand, but whatever the horse did pleased her and she grinned, calling out praise and thumping him on the neck. With another pat, she shook out the reins and had the horse slow down to an easy walk.

"Can I help you?" She called, aiming the horse towards where Sam and Dean stood leaning on the fence.

"Howdy, ma'am," Dean blurted out through a wide grin, unable to help himself. He could practically hear Sam rolling his eyes as he turned away, dropping his face into his hand. But to Dean's surprise and delight, the girl giggled, an amused smile crossing her face, though she shook her head a little like she was embarrassed for him.

"Agents Turner and Bachman," Sam interrupted before Dean could say anything else stupid, flipping open his badge, "federal marshals."

"The sheriff know you're here?" She asked, shifting slightly in the saddle and stopping the horse right next to the fence. Her head tilted a little to the side as she asked, blue eyes squinting in the sunlight beneath her hat.

"Yeah, we've been by the station already," Sam replied again, giving Dean a subtle what is wrong with you glance.

"What's going on?" She asked suspiciously. The horse seemed interested as well, turning his head and reaching out his nose to sniff at them. He was a large animal, primarily white with large black splotches across his body. His head was dark, with a white stripe down his nose, ears pricked forward as he looked right at Dean. "Texas," the girl scolded gently when he got too close. The horse immediately pulled away, clearly understanding the gentle reprimand.

"We're looking for Ray Walker," Sam said, since Dean was too busy leering.

"Ray?" She echoed, those lush pink lips turning down into a frown, "I don't think I've seen him today, but I'll take you up to the barn." Without any visible cue, she moved the horse forward, walking along the path on the other side of the fence. Sam practically shoved Dean along, a stern expression on his face that told Dean his brother was not pleased with him. The girl got there before them and dismounted up by the barn, boots sending up a cloud of dust as she landed with a soft thud. She paused briefly, patting her horse on the neck and leaning in to give him a quick kiss on the nose that made Dean's heart flutter in his chest. Then she took the reins and walked off, away from them towards the large open door. Her jeans glittered in the afternoon light, drawing Dean's gaze down to her back pockets. He froze when he saw the angel wings embroidered there in tiny rhinestones, like heaven was pointing her out as his very own angel in blue jeans.

Dean watched her walk into the barn, taking down the safety chain across the opening to allow the horse through. He glanced up when Sam made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. Sam was scowling, mouth turned down in a frown and that line between his eyebrows tipping Dean off to his brother's aggravation.

"Dude get it together," Sam muttered, shaking his head before following the girl inside. Dean was way too excited that they were on a horse ranch, and that meant cowboys - one of his secret obsessions. There had been a lot of old western movies on the television while he was growing up, especially at Bobby's. Late nights with John Wayne and Clint Eastwood had given him a love for all things western, and now he was on an actual horse ranch, talking to a real cowgirl.

He stepped into the barn, taking off his sunglasses quickly as his eyes struggled to adjust to the relative dimness inside. The girl was pulling off the horse's bridle, only to replace it with a navy blue halter, to which she clipped a couple ropes - one on each side. Those ropes were secured to each wall, keeping the horse in place in the middle of the aisle. Sam and Dean followed, giving the horse a safe distance and trying to stay out of the girl's way. With every step she took, there was a soft jingle, and Dean looked down to find a large pair of spurs attached to her dusty cowboy boots.

"Awesome," he whispered with a grin, elbowing Sam. His brother was not amused, and rolled his eyes yet again.

Dean was distracted from his inappropriate cowgirl thoughts when the horse reached his nose out towards him, turning his head slightly to stare at Dean. It was a big horse, solidly built; nothing like those tall spindly things that did racing. His dark eyes seemed kind and curious as he watched Dean, making him take a careful step forward.

"You can touch him, you know," the girl said, an amused smile on her face, "he won't bite. And if he does, feel free to swat him. He knows better." She said the last part sternly, making the horse's ears swivel towards her. It was obvious he understood at least some of what she said.

Dean wasn't quite so sure about putting his hand near something with such big teeth, but he had to impress the pretty girl. Not to mention he fought monsters for a living, a horse was nothing…

So he stepped closer, the horse watching him with interest and sticking his nose out again. Sam looked on skeptically from nearby where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. The girl raised an eyebrow but didn't comment, pulling the saddle from the horse's back before vanishing through a nearby door. Emboldened by her casual attitude, Dean inched even closer and held out his hand, ready to jerk back at any moment. The horse sniffed at his palm, huffing warm breath and then nudging him, making Dean grin and turn to look at Sam.

"Congratulations Dean, you're petting a horse," Sam dead-panned, "you want a trophy or something?"

"I don’t see you near the big scary animal," Dean muttered, turning back as the horse craned his nose towards Dean's jacket. The horse nudged at him, making Dean flinch. "What… dude buy a guy dinner first…"

"So I just checked with Charlie, the manager, and Ray isn't here today," the girl said, returning and moving to casually pick up one of the horse's feet, "He was supposed to be, but he didn't show up. Is everything okay?" She paused before moving to the next foot, looking at Sam and Dean with concern in her bright blue eyes.

"Ray's brother was found dead yesterday," Dean blurted, making Sam sigh. The girl's mouth dropped open, and her eyes widened.

"Holy shit…" she whispered, leaning to rest her forearm against her horse, "what happened?"

"It's currently an open investigation," Sam informed her, "we just had some routine questions for Ray. Do you happen to have his home address?"

"Um yeah, he lives down on Farmington. Big yellow house, you can't miss it."

"Thanks. We should be going," Sam said pointedly, giving Dean a look before heading back outside into the sunshine. The girl was watching Dean, studying him like she was trying to figure something out. Or maybe she was just waiting for him to say something.

"Listen, uh…" Dean began, reaching into his jacket to pull out a business card. Something made him flip it over and scrawl his cell number on it before holding it out to her. "If you think of something, or you need anything… give me a call."

"What if I don't think of anything?" She asked, eyes looking slightly mischievous.

"Call me," Dean repeated with a grin, "I'm Dean by the way."

"Y/N," she said, returning his smile and patting the horse on the side, "and this is Tex."

"It was nice meeting both of you. See you around," Dean said before hurrying off to catch up with Sam, who was halfway back to the car.

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