Chapter Text
Obi-wan leant on the wood railing of the front porch of the main house, looking out over the green plains of the ranch. It was a beautiful day, the deep blue sky seeming to stretch forever.
Obi-wan waved at Feemor, the foreman Qui-gon had hired to take care of the ranch, as he walked down the dirt road in front of the house leading one of their horses towards the barn. The tall blond nodded back, not stopping his soothing stream of words to the slightly skittish horse. It was peaceful here, a nice change from his job as an accountant in a big firm. When Qui-gon had let him know he would be gone with Tahl on one of her year-long medical aid trips to Africa, Obi-wan had realized it would be the perfect time for a long-awaited vacation. Not that he didn’t love his father or stepmother, but it was rarely restful when they were all together. Qui-gon somehow always managed to find drama or adventure in the smallest of things. But they were gone, and wouldn’t be back for a year, and it was a great opportunity to take a leave of absence from his job and come back to the ranch house for a while. He hadn't grown up here, Qui-gon had bought it just after he started university, but he had come back enough that he had a comfortably decorated room and was familiar with the house.
Not that Qui-gon had known anything about ranching when he’d bought the ranch. Or now, for that matter. His and Bant’s current theory was that he'd bought it to be closer to nature and to irritate Dooku, their grandfather, who certainly did not approve of things like cows. Or dirt. Or clothes that weren't perfectly clean at all times. So it was at least part of the reason. Even though the ranch didn’t even have any cows, just a few horses, it was still enough to annoy Dooku, who refused to come visit and instead demanded that they visit him at his Washington DC mansion.
The neighbours, he was not so familiar with. Obi-wan had never met the family that owned the ranch that bordered theirs. But Qui-gon liked them, and so did Feemor, whom Obi-wan trusted much more as an appropriate gauge of character and trustworthiness. Qui-gon would try and help someone who was trying to kill him, and had frequently happily put his trust in people who he should decidedly not have trusted. He had made it out alive, somehow, and now he had Tahl, who was much better at getting around without trusting random strangers with weapons to drive them.
Obi-wan wandered off the porch, hands deep in the pockets of his worn-in jeans, and headed after Feemor towards the barn. He’d gotten in last night, and while he’d let Feemor know he was coming, he hadn't had a chance to talk to him yet.
He found Feemor with the still skittish horse in the small corral next to the barn, leading her in small circles on a lead rope.
"How’s she doing?" Obi-wan propped a foot on the bottom rail of the fence and leaned on the top one.
Feemor shrugged, focus mainly on the bay mare dancing along behind him. "Still skittish. She’s one of the new ones Qui-gon brought home."
Obi-wan rolled his eyes. Qui-gon had a habit of bringing home "pathetic lifeforms" as Dooku liked to call them. Animals who were wild, or skittish, or dangerous, or injured, or shy. Or sometimes all of the above. At least this one was just a horse, and not, say, a half-grown mountain lion. Obi-wan shuddered. That had been an uncomfortable week, since the thing had stayed in the laundry room until he and Dooku had convinced Qui-gon to contact a wildlife rescue society to come and pick it up.
This horse, though, looked well built, from what little Obi-wan knew of horses. She was a beautiful red-brown colour, shining under the sunshine. Feemor would get her calmed down and integrated into the rest of their herd. It wouldn’t be the first time, and the quiet blond was good with horses.
Which was why he ran the ranch. Obi-wan rolled his eyes at himself.
Feemor’s quiet voice caught Obi-wan’s attention again.
"How long will Qui-gon be gone?" The foreman didn’t appear bothered either way, more like asking after a piece of information needed to help complete a picture.
"Ah." Obi-wan rubbed at the back of his head, rumpling his short red hair. "Probably about a year." He winced. "Tahl at least didn’t tell you?"
Feemor chuckled, blue eyes turning to Obi-wan full of mirth and affection. "She wasn’t here. Qui-gon was leaving to meet her somewhere and never let me know."
Obi-wan sighed and slumped over the top rail, still watching the horse and Feemor go around the corral in slow circles.
"I’m sorry to say I’m not surprised Qui-gon didn’t tell you. Tahl should have known better."
Feemor chuckled and shrugged his shoulders. "Qui-gon would forget his own head if it wasn’t attached. The man never pays attention to what other people know. He just assumes people will go along with whatever he’s up to." He turned to Obi-wan and raised an eyebrow. "And Tahl knew you were coming?"
Obi-wan nodded then sighed. "Yes, but I made her promise not to tell Qui-gon until at least a week in. Didn’t want him getting the idea that he needed to be here to greet me or something."
Feemor tipped his head, ending his circling and drawing the mare in close to rub gently at her neck. "Then she knew you would let me know, and promptly forgot about informing me."
Obi-wan laughed. "Isn’t that the truth. As much as I love Tahl, and as competent as she is, she is at least a little of the same disaster as Qui-gon." He stepped back out of the way as Feemor led the horse to the gate, pulling it open and stepping through.
"That’s part of why he loves her." Feemor’s voice was quiet as he led the mare into the barn, probably to give her a good rub down.
Obi-wan watched them go, blowing out a breath and turning to go wander the orchard that sprawled out behind the barn.
It was true. Qui-gon absolutely adored Tahl, and part of that was the similar strain of mess she was. Unlike Qui-gon’s first wife, his mother, who had been fairly proper and quiet, Tahl was a whirlwind wrapped up in a veneer of professionalism and colourful skirts.
She had been a good part of his life since she and Qui-gon got together over a decade ago. Her and her daughter, Bant, who had wormed her way into his life as an affectionate over-protective older sister.
Obi-wan smiled. Maybe he’d go visit Bant while he was here. She worked at a hospital only a few hours away, and he hadn’t seen her since the video call they’d had at Christmas.
Obi-wan ended up back in the main house, in the open spacious kitchen and dining room. He opened the fridge, peering in to see what there was. Pulling out some lemons, he set about making a fresh batch of lemonade for him and Feemor. The easy motions of cutting and squeezing were calming, almost meditative. He hissed as the lemon juice found a papercut he’d forgotten about on his right hand. Stars wasn't he glad to get away from all the paperwork at his job for a while.
Obi-wan returned the completed lemonade to the fridge after pouring himself some. Feemor wouldn’t be back to the house until later. He had work to do. Obi-wan, however....
He pulled the fridge back open and studied the contents. Maybe he'd go into town and pick up groceries to do some cooking. That would be a good plan for the rest of the day.