Dukey looked into Clara's lovely green eyes, and then glanced quickly back toward the house, as his mother stormed off into it. He felt Clara's hand on his fist, and opened it, taking her hand in his own, before being led off toward the barn. That's when he finally became aware of the mud, only by stepping directly into it. He sighed softly as his feet sank to the level of his ankles, and he took another step, only to drop in, to his shins.<br/><br/>He thought<em>at least there was no need for chivalry, or violence. And at least this wasn't a pile of dung.</em><br/><br/>No sooner had he extricated himself from the dirty water, than his boots landed smack in some manure. He rolled his eyes and looked skyward, as if to say<em>Why me, Lord?</em>He hastily wiped off his boots on the ground and followed Clara into the barn. He looked around, seeing many familiar pieces of equipment, from saddles and spurs, to a riding crop and lengths of rope. He spotted a  friendly-looking horse in the stable, and went to stroke the animal's mane, only to be nipped at. The horse stomped a hoof, and snorted. Dukey immediately backed away, turning back to Clara, and brushing her dark, wavy hair away from her face with his fingertips. He finally got a better look at her, and found her to be more attractive than he had at first.<br/><br/>But what was he doing here, with her? She couldn't be out of her mid-twenties (a gentleman wouldn't ask a lady her exact age), and he was still angry at Mr. Klutz and himself, for various reasons.<br/><br/>"Are you alright, Ms. Klutz...Clara?" was all he could think to say.