The man in shining armor was not a cowboy. He was a knight of centuries before. He was clad in armor and sturdy in strength. But he rode a maimed horse. Bad hoof or horse shoe. Had funny, awkward trotting.
The man himself was good to his steed and knew how to speak the horses language through eye contact and tail swats. This particular day was windy and he wished to ride, but the horse whinnied, moving it’s lips, “Nooo, it’s too windy. I just want to stay in my stable and eat hay all day.” Stomping the ground with a back foot and neighing up into the air.
“Okay.” Said the man. So he put off his errands and did house work. Which he would much rather do village work, but it’s bad luck to ride in the wind on the chance the wind is blowing toward you, turning one back to a safer location.
“But you need not get any cane today. And extra carrots, for we ride hard tomorrow. If weather grants such occasion.”
Cooped up in the stable; the horse was not used to a calm day. For each day, it seemed the knight and horse brought their own weather to the dolts across town.
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