![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
oom: barlow estate (4)
It's been a handful of days since Sunday, and the week indeed has been busy. Jay's been keeping himself busy, with the work Samuel has been giving all of them to get things ready for the harvest. He's falling into an easy enough routine, odds and ends here and there, checking on things, repairs or working with the stock.
He's out in a far field, surveying the crop, taking notes and doing a bit of figuring with numbers. He's got that notebook open to a fresh page and a stub of a pencil in his fingertips, the reins resting slack in his lap as he and Cortez sit still.
"Fifteen...carry the two..."
Jay glances up at the crop again and then quietly chirrups to the horse to get him moving, eyes falling back down to the paper once more.
"Carry the two and then multiply by eighty-five..."
The rabbit bolts out of a burrow and streaks across the thin, worn grass in front of the horse, and barrels straight into a patch of resting birds. Little things, picking down at a fallen corncob, but when the rabbit charges through there's a flutter of wings and angry chirping as they take flight.
"Seven...what the hell--"
Cortez startles and rears back on his hind legs, leaving his rider scrambling for a hold (and missing the horn with the sudden shift of weight) briefly before he hits the dirt, landing hard on his left side and smacking his head into the ground.
"Jesus Goddamn Christ..."
Everything is starred behind his eyes and his shoulder hurts, his lungs scrambling to breathe in oxygen after slamming so hard into the ground. He knows he knocked the wind out of himself, and he flops onto his back and stares at the brilliant Texas sky overhead, an endless blue, as he gasps for breath.
You're okay, Doc. You're okay. Just breathe. Easy. Breathe.
Eventually, after a few minutes of lying still, he sits himself upright - cradling his left side with his right hand as he does so - and then looks at Cortez. Or, looks for Cortez.
The horse is nowhere to be seen.
"...dammit!"
He's out in a far field, surveying the crop, taking notes and doing a bit of figuring with numbers. He's got that notebook open to a fresh page and a stub of a pencil in his fingertips, the reins resting slack in his lap as he and Cortez sit still.
"Fifteen...carry the two..."
Jay glances up at the crop again and then quietly chirrups to the horse to get him moving, eyes falling back down to the paper once more.
"Carry the two and then multiply by eighty-five..."
The rabbit bolts out of a burrow and streaks across the thin, worn grass in front of the horse, and barrels straight into a patch of resting birds. Little things, picking down at a fallen corncob, but when the rabbit charges through there's a flutter of wings and angry chirping as they take flight.
"Seven...what the hell--"
Cortez startles and rears back on his hind legs, leaving his rider scrambling for a hold (and missing the horn with the sudden shift of weight) briefly before he hits the dirt, landing hard on his left side and smacking his head into the ground.
"Jesus Goddamn Christ..."
Everything is starred behind his eyes and his shoulder hurts, his lungs scrambling to breathe in oxygen after slamming so hard into the ground. He knows he knocked the wind out of himself, and he flops onto his back and stares at the brilliant Texas sky overhead, an endless blue, as he gasps for breath.
You're okay, Doc. You're okay. Just breathe. Easy. Breathe.
Eventually, after a few minutes of lying still, he sits himself upright - cradling his left side with his right hand as he does so - and then looks at Cortez. Or, looks for Cortez.
The horse is nowhere to be seen.
"...dammit!"
no subject
It's not said with accusation as its intent. It's light, uttered within a short laugh, because he's right.
"I'll git, once you've had your fill, and we've had opportunity to chat a bit. I'd like to hear more about your tumble, and what you did get done in the fields today."
no subject
"Yessir," he replies. "Well you see, I was out in the south field, doin' some figurin'..."
The rest of the story is retold between bites of food, and eventually they do get to the actual work he did manage before falling off his horse and landing on his ass.
Eventually.