Taming His Stallion [BWWM]

1_Dream Trainer

Danny

Willard's wagon came into view beyond the transparent screen at the entry of my home, no doubt hauling my prized possession onto the family land. 

The guys lingered, preparing to offload the newest edition to the family. 

Angel -- my stallion. 

I've waited a long time for this moment.

Willard reversed slowly, nearing the corral while A.J opened the gate to the fence, unlatching the door of the trailer. 

When the vehicle stopped, out galloped Angel into his new playground. 

Man, did he have speed on his legs!

He reached the other side of the large enclosure in a matter of seconds.

My father and I had become fans of Angel, after seeing him appear in a Derby, a few years back. 

He had basically won us over when he took the lead in less than fifteen seconds, after falling behind his opponents for the chunk of the course.  

The odds had turned in our favour.

I sauntered over to the fence, resting my arms atop the surface. 

Angel seemed to notice, turning in my direction. 

At once, he stalked towards me with frightening speed. 

Almost, charging like a bull. 

Luckily, I stepped out of the way before he snapped something of mine.

"Woa, Angel!" I tried to calm him down, but he heaved. "Easy, easy."

It was as though there was something bothering him. 

He had a temper. 

Or that ticking time bomb.

Maybe, it would be for the best if we allowed him to blow off some steam.

"Boss, I think he hates us," A.J circled around, cautious not to stand too close to the fence. 

"A.J, this is no time for jokes." I spared a glance at A.J before refocusing on Angel. "He almost took my head off."

He just kept charging around at top speed without end. 

There had to be something that could be done to calm him down.

"It's not a joke, Boss," I turned to A.J, studying him, his face devoid of humour. "I really think he hates us."

No kidding. 

There was no trace of that miserable boyish grin he often wore, nor were there crow's feet at his eyes to hint at his amusement.

"There has got to be something we can do to calm him."

"Flog him?" Will finally came around the fence, dusting off his stetson before popping it back on his black curly hair.

"Not an option," I replied.

"Sell him?" Will suggested, holding his hands up in surrender. 

"What do you mean, sell him?" I levelled a glare at Will who seemed to sober up quickly.

"Hey boss, if it doesn't work out, it's worth considering." He reasoned.

"He just got here." I waved a hand dismissively. "That's out of the question."

"You could hire a trainer?" A.J suggested.

"I'll think on it and tell you in the morning," I told both men before turning to head inside, up the porch steps and into the main house.