The Floodlands I'm doing fine, trying to derail my one track mind

colt watched her face shift and fill with interest. he returned the lollop of her tail with one of his own, letting out a raucous laugh at her own boldness. "an' what am i assumin'?" he shot back, bathing his lips in a self-satisfied way with a lash of his tongue.
"colt briggs," he grunted next, relenting beneath the curious press of her lambent cocoa eyes, not bothering to turn as she inspected him. had he digits and a cigarette, he would have lit it then, blowing smoke into the clear spring air.
"not no sir. what's yers, woman?" colt growled back in a tonality that held no malice, but his own spreading intrigue. she wasn't in the family way, looking for a husband. nor did she have that man-damned scent around her; you had to watch for that one. no. she was open in her movements, almost an invitation if he managed to pass whatever tests she wanted to administer.
colt accepted her challenge with a wry, slow grin.