#no one draws Lou from that angle and I learned why while drawing this

[starwingsgazer955]

I made these to match my (at the time) post in the avatar contest. I posted them on my Twitter, but I think they’re worth putting here too.

Little furry hats

Avatar image under break

[ikroah]

Whiskey river, take my mind, don't let her memory torture me. Whiskey river, don't run dry, you're all I got, take care of me. —“Whiskey River,” Shotgun Willie (1973)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #15 - Vegas Outskirts

Collaborative Issue! Guest Colorist: @malpaislegate​ / @socksual-innuendos​

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Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes:

MAN that’s gotta hurt!! Volume 2 kicks off with a bang, literally if you count the gunshot and honorifically if you count Socks’ knockout color job on this issue. Look at those lovingly rendered bullet wounds!! Muah!!!

It’s been a relief having a month off from the comic as I handled a bunch of other things but there’s a lot to look forward to in Volume 2, as you can probably tell from that very forboding fist clench at the end there. Will Agnes and Cass get the revenge they’re looking for? Can they make it big in Vegas? Will it keep right on a-hurtin’? Find out next ish as Cass leads Agnes to meet the first of their new “friends.”

Original Pencils:

The pencils for this issue are like an autopsy report of all the things that can go wrong with your art if you don’t plan ahead and pay attention. Listen, friend, to my tale of woe, and learn from my mistakes so they don’t become yours!

First, you can see a lot of places where there’s floating objects, empty backgrounds, and incomplete heads. Part of this is because I always intended to just copy and paste repeated elements across each panel instead of drawing them multiple times, but other times I was forced to just because of my lack of planning. The top three panels on page two, for example, required me to draw the background I’d use for them on a separate page.

Second, you can probably tell that I actually had to flip the two raiders around in the final lineart because I forgot to keep the hands their were holding their guns in consistent—and since I couldn’t flip the middle panel on the second page without ruining the composition, I decided to flip all of their other appearances so that they’d be lefties. I doubt you even can seamlessly wield those particular guns left-handed.

Third, the size of the cart that Agnes and Cass are kneeling behind changes CONSTANTLY and is dramatically oversized from the third page onward. After inking these pages, it took a lot of work to correct the inks and shrink that cart in each panel, but fortunately it came out looking good.

And finally, I completely redrew the second panel on the fifth page because it wasn’t until I had already handed he pages off to my colorist that I realized having a second profile shot of Cass so soon after a first one was just...redundant and lazy-looking. So I went back to my sketchbook and whipped up a much more unique, striking angle (I also just wasn’t satisfied with the quality of my art on that panel, so I’m very glad I redrew it). But again, my failure to plan ahead bit me in the ass and my redraw attempt wound up taking up a lot more space than I thought it would, so after inking it I had to basically surgically remove it from the other inks.

I’ll be honest with you folks: part of the reason that I work in such simple, thick, high-contrast lineart is because it’s very easy to make corrections and adjustments with stuff you could technically color in Microsoft Paint.

Transcript:

EXT. SOMEWHERE IN THE MOJAVE, morning. AGNES SANDS and ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY stand over the wreckage of a caravan, scattered over a dirt road.

CASS: Hell.

EXT. SOMEWHERE ELSE IN THE MOJAVE, midday. Looking over a second wrecked caravan, at the bottom of a ditch.

CASS: Fuck.

EXT. PRE-WAR HIGHWAY OUTSIDE OF VEGAS, mid-afternoon. AGNES and CASS survey a third wrecked caravan.

CASS: Shit. The proof is in the pudding. Or the pile of ash, rather. These attacks were done with Van Graff guns for Crimson Caravan caps. I'm sure of it.

As CASS explains her theory to AGNES, a short distance from the caravan two RAIDERS peer at the two of them from inside a barn at a ruined farmstead. They have snake-bite tattoos on the sides of their shaved heads and are holding rifles.

CASS: The scorchmarks and residue in the wreckages? That's energy weapon shit. Plasma and laser. Silver Rush special. Not like it'd be the Brotherhood. And Crimson Caravan must have bankrolled this fucked-up little hunting trip themselves.

The RAIDERS move out from the barn, sneaking up on two passers-by who’ve stopped at the caravan wreckage.

CASS: That explains why they bought me out...they needed the last loose end to saddle up back west with a tidy sum.

(NOTE: *Agnes delivered it and Cass signed it in IKROAH #7—Lou.)

CASS: It's a racket, Agnes: torch the local competition and it's win-win for both the f—

SFX: KRAK

A gunshot rips out from one of the RAIDERS’ rifles and sears across CASS’ shoulder.

CASS (gasping): —uckers.

CASS slumps down beneath the overturned caravan wagon on the road, clutching her shot shoulder.

CASS: —Aaggghghhhhhhh.

AGNES: Cass! Are you—

CASS: Fuck! Agnes, get down you moron!

AGNES ducks behind the cover of the wooden caravan wagon just as another gunshot splinters the top lip of it.

SFX: DTHWAK!

The RAIDERS advance on CASS and AGNES’ position, firing at them from off the road.

SFX: KRAK

AGNES leans over the top of the wagon with her pistol, returning fire.

SFX: BTAK BTAK BTAK

AGNES lands a shot right in one of the RAIDERS’ guts, and she drops her weapon and falls down.

SFX: SPLUT

CASS, leaning out the side of the wagon, takes as careful of aim as she can with her shotgun by holding it with her good arm. Trembling, she fires, connecting with the other RAIDER.

SFX: KBLAM

The would-have-been RAIDERS are dead.

AGNES: ...were those the Van Graffs?

CASS: No. Just some vultures.

CASS leans back behind cover to sit against the bottom of the overturned wagon again, wincing from her shoulder injury.

CASS: Ugghhn.

AGNES (slipping off duffel bag): Cass, your shoulder—

CASS: Yeah, it's been shot. I'm pretty fucking aware.

AGNES (unzipping bag): Quick, can you take your shirt off—

CASS: What!?

AGNES: —so I can dress the wound, Cass!

CASS: Oh! Good! So you weren't coming onto me on what remains of Griffin Wares Caravan.

CASS starts removing her shirt while AGNES produces a bottle of something from her duffel bag, and dampens a rag with its contents.

CASS: And since when are you a fucking field medic, anyway?

AGNES: 2269. NCR Certified.

CASS: What?

AGES: Yeah. I've been one kind of doctor or another since I was six.

CASS: What?

AGNES: Now hold still, this is antiseptic.

CASS: Since you were six!? I...shit, wait, hang on, Agnes—

AGNES pressess the rag onto CASS’ shoulder wound, and CASS winces instinctively. But, confusingly, there isn’t any pain.

CASS: ...isn't this supposed to sting like hell?

AGNES: No, not really. It's an acetic acid solution. Vinegar, basically.

AGNES begins cleaning the wound with the rag.

CASS: I thought you put alcohol on wounds to clean them.

AGNES: That's...a common misconception. It's good for tools, maybe, but too strong for skin. And it can complicate healing if you apply it directly.

CASS: So you're telling me, all my years, I've been wasting good whiskey only making my boo-boos worse?

AGNES: I mean...it's better than nothing in a pinch, but...

CASS: Well, then. Thanks for the lecture, doc. Can you just pass the whiskey anyway? Shoulder still hurts like hell regar—

AGNES hands her the whiskey bottle. She’d already gotten it out.

CASS: —dless. Oh. Thanks.

AGNES unspools a roll of bandages in her hands, then begins wrapping it over CASS’ shoulder and across her chest..

AGNES: So. It's a relatively minor wound, more of a deep graze than a real gunshot.

CASS: You'd know all about real gunshots, huh?

AGNES (unfazed): Uh-huh. I can suture it if necessary, but for now, these bandages will be fine. Just hold still. How do you feel?

CASS: I feel fucking pissed, Agnes!

AGNES recoils, taken aback slightly.

CASS: As I was saying before I got shot in the shoulder—which, however "minor" the wound, is real fucking close to my head, Agnes—this wasn't some random attack. These caravans, my caravan, got hit by the Van Graffs and Crimson Caravan. It ain't just some tragedy anymore. Now I've got names. Places. Faces.

AGNES resumes bandaging CASS.

CASS: I told you—ow! Don't pinch my tit, dammit—

AGNES: I said hold still.

CASS: —I told you, when you told me about this guy who shot you...when I let you drag me out of that fucking outpost...and when we went to Boulder City...that I would do the exact same thing in your shoes. Now, it is the exact same thing. This fucker shoots your eye out, these fuckers ash my caravan...these same fuckers I sold my own goddamn name to on a piece of paper. I mean...what else are we doing out here, Agnes? Getting shot at by Khans and Raiders just for kicks? Are we just fucking around?

AGNES finishes bandaging CASS, then leans back, pensive.

AGNES: No...no, I really guess we’re not.

CASS: That's what I thought. Your friend in Vegas can wait. Help me get mine, and we can get that shitheel together, and that's a prom—

CASS raises her arm  to shake her fist as she speaks, straining her shoulder injury.

CASS: —mmmmmmghhhh. Ooww, oww, oww, oww...

CASS grabs her shoulder in pain while AGNES looks off in the distance and stands up. She looks out towards the horizon—towards VEGAS, and the pre-war casinos and hotels that still gleam and glitter in blinding sunlight.

Her fist clenches. Her brow furrows. Her body tenses, all over, staring at that city, that place.

The caravan wreckage remains alone on the highway, brahmin bones long picked clean by scavengers.

AGNES SANDS IN: IT KEEPS RIGHT ON A HURTIN’

VOLUME 2: MAKE IT BIG IN VEGAS

[aerielz]

Oh please could you do “just take my hand” for j/d?

Last one was so angsty I decided this one would be just straight up post-canon fluff!

The night is cold, but pleasant, and he’s enjoying himself, which is not as much of a rare occurrence as it used to be. Relaxing still doesn't come naturally, and Josh figures perhaps it never will. But he’s learned to push aside the press, and the threats, and the pressure, and congress. It's there, in his pocket, a phone call away. But for now, it is tame.

At this moment all that worries him is the air of amused understanding Toby has about him.

Donna walks ahead of them, almost bouncing on her feet, leading the way across Central Park to some place Josh’s not sure what it is, and Toby watches as her giddy form guides them to… wherever. He keeps glancing between the two of them, something clearly on his mind.

Up until Josh can’t take it anymore.

“What?,” he asks, eyes darting to Donna, mirroring Toby, as some structure starts to become clear.

Toby just shakes his head.

“What?”

“I’m just surprised you’re okay with this.”

Josh shrugs, legitimately confused. “With what?”

“You really don’t know,” Toby lets out a genuine laugh, “Your obliviousness truly is dumbfounding.”

“What the hell are you even talking about?,” he answers, just in time to look up and see what it is that they’ve been approaching all along. “Oh.”

They catch up to Donna at the edge of an ice skating rink, as she’s hooking her thumb over her shoulder to indicate the both of them to the woman behind the counter.

“Oh,” he repeats.

It’s a big and loud place, not packed, by any means, but it is tourist season: there's enough of a crowd inside the rink to lose someone in, and families and couples stand outside, too, just as entertained to watch as the ones inside are to skate. The harsh lights that light up the attraction mark a big spot in the night, making it stand out from a great distance.

It’s an impressive feat that he managed to completely miss it.

“Why did you think we were coming to the Park at this hour?,” Toby asks.

Josh takes a second. Shrugs. “Sightseeing?”

“Without an agenda…? Her?,” he points to Donna.

If she’s offended by the take, she doesn’t let it show. Donna doesn’t even turn around — she just hands the woman in front of her a few bills and thanks her when she motions for them to enter a waiting area.

Toby follows Donna into it, and Josh stays where he is, brow furrowed in a grimace.

He opens his mouth to protest, but closes it immediately.

If he thinks about it, it was rather obvious, wasn’t it? It’s entirely expected that she’d drag them into this along with her — it’s Donna, they’re in New York in the middle of winter and she’s asked him for skis that one Christmas, for crying out loud —, it’s not like it’s a stretch.

If it’s her leading the way, he’ll follow. He doesn’t care where they’re going anymore. But it’s not his blind trust in her that takes him further this time, it’s her excitement about the whole thing. There’s something different about it, something he can’t quite grasp. Josh can understand how he got himself into this position. What he can’t understand is why, when he looks at her, he sees her face light up like Time Square.

She sits down at the bench and takes off her boots to put on the skates with an ease that spells practice, and Josh observes her motions, a tad mesmerized, following suit even if the familiarity in her gestures is something he can't copy. It’s just tying a shoe, but he feels like he’s fumbling.

Donna enters the rink tentatively, but quickly glides away from the edge, gaining an easy confidence in her footing far faster than Josh would think was possible. She’s out a few feet, being soon joined by Toby, before realizing he’s not beside her. She angles her body sideways and skids to a halt, looking back to wait for him.

It's his first mistake, really — having waited for her to look back. He should've just gotten it over with while she was distracted, but, alas, now he has a proper audience.

Josh takes his first steps into the ice with way too much confidence and both his legs decide to go opposite ways, sending his butt to the ground.

Donna’s eyes widen. She tries very hard not to smile.

(And fails.)

“Oh my god, you can’t ice skate,” Donna glides back to the entrance and bends down to help him get on his feet, “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“You were making it seem easy, I thought it couldn't be that hard."

"You've never done this before?,” Toby says from beside Donna.

Josh shrugs, taking Donna's hand.

"I don’t understand, you're from Connecticut.”

"What, and that’s a requirement, now?,” He has a good grip on Donna's hand, but he can't decide how exactly to stand up. Josh tries putting both his legs under himself, and they won't stay put where he wants them, sliding everywhere no matter what he does, “Jesus, why do people think this is fun?!"

“I don't know, I’m having quite a lot of fun,” Donna teases.

“Yes, but you're a sadist,” he replies.

“She's a masochist, is what she is,” Toby chimes in, taking enough pity on him to help, “Nothing else explains willingly being around you for this long.”

With Toby pulling him by his other hand Josh finally finds enough purchase on the ice to more of less stabilize himself on the blades.

It's a fragile balance. To say the least.

“Oh, god, I’m gonna die,” he all but gasps, tightening his grip on Toby's and Donna's arms, “I’m gonna die or— or— I’ll fall again and then someone’s gonna go over my fingers and. I don’t know, chop them off. Look at these things, they're deadly.”

“They're rentals, they're blunter than Lou on a Friday night at the podium,” Donna remarks.

Josh looks at her, “Bringing Lou into this will not make me feel any safer.”

“What were you doing your entire childhood?,” Toby asks.

“Studying.”

“That’s just sad.”

“Yeah, well, I know that now.”

“It takes a while to get used to it, but it's not that hard,” Donna says, “Just… baby steps.”

Both Donna and Toby let go of Josh and he stays upright, which, as far as the three of them are concerned, looks like progress.

He tries to take a step and his balance fails him, again, having him make a wild grab at whatever’s closest.

He ends up throwing his entire weight on Toby, who says, “Or perhaps just… try to stay upright for a couple minutes, you know, get used to that.”

“Well, you do it, then, if it's so easy.”

“I am doing it, in fact my ability to stay on top of ice skates is the only thing separating you from certain death, right now.”

“Listen—”

“God, you’re both insufferable,” Donna complains.

Josh disengages his grip on Toby’s arm and defiantly leans away, falling to the other side, instead, to the safety of the rails, “—I'll need five minutes tops, you'll see, I'll be skating circles around you—”

“You wanna spend the time we have on ice arguing, fine,” Donna continues, “I'm gonna try something else.”

“—I'm adaptable, it's my whole thing. Tell him, Donna.”

He turns to her for support and it's just in time to see her floating away from them.

The annoyance he feels at the insignificant betrayal doesn't survive watching her as she skates, though.

Most of the people doing rounds around them look clumsy and unsure on the ice, but Donna looks like she’s home. There’s a unique freedom to her movements, a confidence, that looks good on her. She has the turn of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, like she does when she convinces senators to shut up and listen, but it’s lighter, here. She leans her body away from the railing to take a turn and it’s almost like there’s not a single tense muscle on her body, like she’s gliding without any effort.

Josh stays where he is, gripping the guard rail with both his hands, watching dumbly as she does not much else then make a full turn around the rink. When she’s not too far away from where she started, Donna diverts to the center of the ice, where there’s no one and the ice is even. She brings her feet closer together and her arms closer to her chest, which sends her body into a slow spin around its own axis. It’s not fast, but it’s graceful, and she looks focused on her own movements, enjoying each second, purpose behind every move — like when she kisses him, when she unbuttons his shirt, when she’s drawing her own name out of his lips.

The comparison is a little out of place, and makes him blush, but the truth is that Josh knows her joy like he knows his own. Both are, after all, intimately connected. So as he watches Donna’s happiness from afar, he lets himself feel it, too.

His mouth hangs open, when she comes closer to where he is with Toby.

"How did you—” he says, a dumb smile on his face, “How come I didn’t know you could do that?”

He sounds giddy, almost innocent in his laughter. Donna’s cheeks burn red with the effort and the effect of his gaze.

She shrugs, and turns around to face him, ”You never asked.”

“I’ve known you for eleven years. We’ve been married for two of those, how come I didn’t know you can figure skate, this is ridiculous.”

“I can’t figure skate, Josh, it's just really basic stuff.”

“You should’ve shown me this when we met, I’d have married you on the spot.”

“Would’ve shaved off six months tops,” Toby chimes in.

“I’m serious.”

“We work every waking hour, Josh, not a lot of skate rinks open at three in the morning in DC.”

“We met in New Hampshire, there’d have been a lake. Or. Something.”

“Honey.”

“I’m sorry, I’m... processing.”

“It’s not anything impressive.”

“From where I’m standing it looks pretty fucking impressive.”

“Can't believe I'm saying this,” Toby says, “But I'm with Josh in this one.”

“You're not helping, Toby. C'mon, it's really easy,” she extends Josh a hand, “I’ll show you.”

“No, I,” Josh gives her a nervous laugh, “I think I’m fine here.”

“Come on,” she insists, “Take my hand.”

He’s curious enough to consider, but, still… “You really think that’s a good idea?”

“You wanted to be a ballerina, there has to be some sort of body awareness in you.”

“You do know I never took a single ballet class, right.”

“Just take my hand,” she insists, “You’re gonna be fine.”

“Yes, take her hand, Josh,” Toby says, and his is the face of a man who knows he's about to have an inordinate amount of fun at the expense of someone else. “You're going to be absolutely fine.”

Josh gives him a look, to which Toby's smile just widens.

That silent and childish challenge is more than enough to convince Josh to actually do it. He takes a deep breath and leans away from the railing, taking both of Donna's hands, one in each of his.

“Oh, god.”

Donna brings him closer to her and grips him at the elbows, so they're more safely linked. She sinks the brakes in the ice and pushes back and takes him with her when she slides back.

“Oh, god. Oh, God, Oh god,” Josh keeps saying.

“You’re stiff as a plank, you’re gonna break something,” she says, laughing.

“Oh, God, I’m gonna break something.”

“No — oh my god — here, just—,” Donna takes one of her hands away from his elbow.

“Donna—”

“Shh, just calm down. Look here, look at me,” she says, gently laying her hand over his cheek, “Josh?”

He looks up, locking his eyes to hers.

“Just keep looking at me, okay?”

He nods, a bit frantic.

“Just relax, honey,” she says, moving her thumb over his skin.

It’s like each stroke removes something from him, something that should never have been there in the first place. The tension in his jaw instantly vanishes. He breathes a little slower.

Donna smiles, her eyes still on his, and slides her hand down, over his neck. He releases the tightness there, too.

They’ve been here before, they both have this program down pat.

When he had panic attacks in the middle of the night, a decade ago, she’d calm him down like this. She couldn’t call him honey back then, and he didn’t know she tasted just as sweet, but the routine is the same. It's Donna gliding her fingers over his skin, giving him something to focus on, taking him out of his head.

Following this practiced dance of their own creation, Donna’s hand slide down again to his chest, his heart right below her palm under layers of clothing. Josh’s entire upper body relaxes.

Less rigid, he feels less like he’s about to topple over. He can focus on the cutting winter wind on his face instead, then; and this nice sensation under his feet that's almost like floating, which is the closest he'll ever be to flying.

It's a clumsy taste of a freedom she knows a lot better than him, yes. But a taste of it, regardless.

He feels more stable, more confident, and she notices it.

Josh is not paying attention to it enough to know how she does it, but whatever it is, it sends them both spinning, like she did before. It feels good. He can almost pretend he knows what he’s doing. Josh laughs, and he's not sure why, or where it came from, but he knows it's the right thing to be doing right now.

Snow starts to fall over them, showering them in white very lightly; very slowly. Flakes dust Donna’s hair and the harsh white lights of the rink hit her from behind and cast a halo around her frame — she looks downright angelical, it’s absolutely ludicrous. He can't stop smiling.

When they come to a halt, Josh pulls her closer, touching his forehead to hers.

He thought the ridiculous part of being in love with her had been over years ago. So naive of him.

“Not so bad, huh?,” she whispers.

Her nose is cold when he kisses it. Her lips too. He lingers, her face touching his, and feels the space between them warming up.

“You’re both disgusting.” Toby screams from not very far.

Donna kisses him, this time, and he takes her bottom lip between his. There's nothing else beside the feeling of her, then, that tentative way Donnatella Moss— not being a fan of this sort of public display of affection — nibbles at his own lips, as if she doesn't have his ring around her finger.

Josh never feels his phone vibrating in the pocket of his coat. Not then, and not five minutes later when it rings again.

He’ll only remember it exists after he takes it out of his pocket when they're back in Toby’s guest room. Donna is pulling a fluffy, horrid, Christmas sweater over her tank top when he notices the screen cracked beyond repair.

“That wasn't like that this morning, was it?,” she asks, noticing it too.

“Yeah, no. I think repeatedly falling on my butt this evening has something to do with it, though.”

“There has to be some place that can get it fixed, we can ask Toby.”

He thumbs the glass and watches the mess of lines and lights flicker under the pressure. There's nothing recognizable coming through.

He shrugs. “You know how the Secret Service is with these things.”

Donna comes behind him to put her arms around his midriff, watching him play with the useless cellphone over his shoulder.

“What if it's some sort of national emergency?,” she asks.

“Sam would've called you and asked for me,” he says, “Or just let you solve it. God knows by now everyone knows you can do this better than me.”

“Damn right I do,” she plays along, kissing the nape of his neck and getting a hum of appreciation out of him, “But, seriously, honey—”

“It's our weekend off,” Josh says, turning around to pull her into his arms properly, “I have other priorities.”

He can tell she's trying to hide her relief, but Donna melts against him, a little, and a smile tug at the corner of her lips as she rests both her hands against his chest. He can still feel the lightness of watching her do spirals or swizzles or whatever-the-hell-those-were-called — can still taste that freedom he found in her smile.

(A couple of years in, but they’re both still getting used to this. To the enormity of this thing they do, and the things they’re building together, which, somehow, feel bigger.)

“I'll get it fixed when we come back home,” he tells her. Donna nods, fits herself in his embrace. “And then we'll find you some skates, and a rink, and you'll show me exactly what it is that you've been hiding from me all these years.”

[jordm]

A Long Shot Review

A LONG SHOT

Heartland Episode 10x16 Review

Ty

Jumping to the end of the episode, we find out through Georgie that Ty is expected home TOMORROW! Flash to Mongolia and we see that Ty and Bob are finally packing their bags to head home, except… Ty collapses. When Bob investigates as to why he collapsed, he finds a worm in his neck. Bob manages to get it out, but its clear that Ty is still sick.

As nice as it is to see Ty insist he get home to Amy, it is clear (and yes, I am taking Bob’s side on this) that he should stay another few days as Ty is still clearly not well enough to fly, and like he mentioned- he wouldn’t even be allowed to fly. In the beginning, Bob gives in to Ty, but when Ty continues to cough Bob turns around.

 In the end of the episode, Amy is calling Cassandra about her and Caleb being here for a welcome home party for when Ty gets back, when she gets a call from “Ty,” only it turns out to be Bob. Bob tells Amy that Ty is sick and that he is taking care of him, and will put Ty on the next plane when he’s better. I can almost feel Amy’s pain, especially when Bob tells her that he’s been hiding his sickness from her for the past few days.

What I am wondering, is why Bob didn’t take Ty to a nearby hospital? Were they that much in the middle of nowhere there was nothing nearby? Surely, a Mongolian hospital would have been better since they might know better.

Anyways, it looks like Ty gets rushed into a local Hudson hospital next episode (for the full description of the promo see NEXT TIME ON), so it looks like he does get back in one piece… more or less. What we don’t know is how he gets back or how sick he truly is. I can’t wait to find out!

Jack’s Secret

To start, Amy saw an article on Jack Bartlett and asked her (Claire) why she had such article. At first, Claire only confesses that she knew Jack when she was little. After some prodding, we see Claire and Jack talking, and Jack mentioning a “rodeo”, “an accident”, further mentioning that after such accident, her mom didn’t want to have to do anything with the rodeo. So far so good, looks like our predictions are on point!

Later on though, like we suspected, we find out that he’s actually not her father but… like we ALSO thought, he was paying because he felt he owed her…

Long story short: Gil (her actual father) and Jack were close on the rodeo circuit, and they even talked about quitting to go to ranching. Until Gil got on a hot streak and was due for a huge payout, so he kept on going. Then in one draw, Jack draws this horse that is known for being super aggressive on the circuit. Jack passes, thinking that its not worth it, so such horse goes back into the draw. Gil ends up drawing up and that’s what ends up ending his life. Consequently, Jack felt like he had to provide for her family, partially blaming himself for his death.

I understand why Jack feels partially responsible but what he doesn’t know is that he might have been the one that ended up dead. It could have been the other way around, and that really wouldn’t have been much better. However, I do also understand that no matter he tells himself its not his fault, it’s still going to haunt him and I’m glad Jack did help provide for their family seeing how well Claire turned out (it is also really such a Jack thing to help others)

Those Hooligans

In the beginning, those stupid hooligans who shot them with paint guns. Those poor horses- scared to death and now their nice clear fur coats are ruined. Most of the horses were spooked, however only one jumped the fence- that being Phoenix, obviously.  When they called the police, they gave the response I expected; then again I’m not sure what they can actually do.

However, when Georgie asked Adam to help by asking her father and they found out other ranches were targeted, it looks like they finally took it seriously… AND they caught the hooligans! Further more, it allowed Georgie and Adam to talk as they tried to find Phoenix-  as well as leading to Mitch and Tim working together (see more below).

One last comment… Amy can sure run when pregnant.

Mitch and Tim

Let me start by saying that wow, that was a weird heading to write. How often do I get to write that? Anyways, like I’ve said before, I just really wish we got to see Mitch in NYC with Lou. I think that would’ve been a great plot line, as well as it would have been hilarious to see how Mitch does in NYC (he must’ve looked like a fish out of water), while also giving us the opportunity to learn about how the Maggie’s NYC venture is going.

I thought it was hilarious how Tim found out, and then inserted himself into working and being with Mitch the whole day. At first I wondered what Tim’s angle was with taking out the wire from the tractor, then it became clear by the end of the episode he was only doing to Mitch what Jack did to Tim all these years ago. These “traditions” never cease to amaze me.  

Seeing Tim compare Mitch to Peter was strange considering the fact that Tim never really warmed up to Peter. And while I understand that he’s still super protective, and it is his personality in a way, I do think that now that Lou is now a grown adult with children and hence I do think maybe he should try to be less protective. I don’t see this changing though. In the end, Mitch stood up to Tim and eventually gained his respect, even to the point where Tim gave Mitch the nickname “Trooper”, that being one of a horse Tim respected back in the day. Well done Mitch!

Georgie

It was nice to see Georgie confiding in Jack while they were out looking for Phoenix. I get the feeling that Jack is the person she confides in the most since her parents are so often out, which is actually kind of unfortunate. 

When Georgie reached out to Adam to get his father on the case, they both end up out looking for Phoenix together. We find out that they both still like each other, yet Adam doesn’t want to get together with Georgie just yet, deciding to be friends. I do support this decision as I think both of them need to be sure that they want to get together before they officially do. I don’t want to see their relationship yo-yo back and forth like Amy and Ty’s did.

Loose Ends

* It was really nice to see Amy working with horses and solving client’s horses problems again! How long has it been? Since last season from before when she was pregnant?

* It was also cool to see Remi walking around in the background in scenes. Made it seem more real, and also more natural.

* So since we know they are dressed up in the next episode (or the next one), are they dressed up for Ty’s welcome home (from the hospital party)? Or Cass and Caleb’s wedding?

Next Time on Heartland

For those who didn’t see it, we see Ty rushed in an ambulance to a Hospital. We then see Amy rushing down the halls, then Jack then Georgie. Cut to shots of Ty looking really sick in the hospital bed and Amy lying next to him (YES, IN PERSON, IN THE SAME SCENE) and saying “I’ve missed you so much.”

Songs in this Episode

They didn’t list the songs in the credits for this episode for whatever reason, but the last song was Fall to Pieces by Hilary Grist. (cc @heartlandians​)