Giddy Up

"Detective Ellison…" Blair said thoughtfully. "It's got a ring to it, but it's kind of dull."

"I just know you're going somewhere with this, Sandburg, and I know I won't like it when you get there."

"Sheriff Ellison sounds better."

"It really doesn't."

"Hat. Star. Hey, a horse! Jim, you'd have a horse!"

"You really don't have a clue about modern law enforcement, do you?"

Blair straddled him, his face determined, gleeful and Jim groaned. "Blair, I'm tired. Exhausted."

"Chaps. Dusty plains, tumbleweed, a six-shooter."

"No, no, and no."

"I think you'd call her Bessie."


"Your horse." Blair squirmed like he had cactus needles digging into his butt and Jim decided he wasn't that tired after all.

He grabbed Blair's arms and reversed their positions in a smooth roll that took them close to the edge of the bed. "I think any horse I ride the plains on is going to be called Blair."

"Faithful, loving companion…"

"Eats hay…"

"Algae isn't hay."

"No. Hay I count as actual food."

Blair wriggled again, his eyes speculative. "Do I get rubbed down after you've taken me out for a hard gallop?"

Jim snorted with laughter but tried to keep the joke going. "Yeah, I'd take good care of you, Bessie. Feed and water you. Brush your mane."

He stroked Blair's hair and hit a tangle right away. "Looks like I'm not doing a good job of that."

"Maybe you're an evil sheriff who beats poor horsie," Blair said drowsily, his eyes drifting closed as Jim continued stroking his hair. "Gives me sub-standard hay."

"That steak I cooked for dinner was not past its sell-by date," Jim said indignantly. "Wouldn't I know? Who's the sentinel around here, anyway? Blair?"

A soft snore was the only answer he got. It sounded suspiciously like a whinny.

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