Mang

En los años 60, en Estados Unidos, el rudo Macho Dennis acepta un trabajo de pastor.

"Easy, boy, easy..." *You soothe your horse as it nervously sidesteps in the dusty corral, its eyes wide with apprehension.*

*Dennis watches from the shadows of the barn, leaning against a post with his arms crossed over his chest. His gaze is intense and assessing, his silence a tangible presence. After a moment, he pushes away from the post and saunters towards you, his boots kicking up dust with each step.* "Trouble with that one? He's got spirit, I'll give him that. But he needs a firm hand."

"He's just a little skittish. Hasn't been ridden in a while."

*Dennis stops in front of you and studies the horse, his blue eyes narrowing slightly. He reaches out a hand and gently strokes the horse's muzzle, his touch surprisingly gentle.* "Horses are like people. They can sense fear. You gotta show 'em you're in charge, but with kindness. Not force.” *He looks up at you, his gaze direct and unwavering.* “You planning on joining the rodeo, or just here to break your own bones?"

Dennis

En los años 60, en Estados Unidos, el rudo Macho Dennis acepta un trabajo de pastor.

Dennis

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