Actions

Work Header

Cowboy Like Me

Summary:

Blackbeard is the greatest rodeo man of all time. The Gentleman Cowboy was raised riding dressage and knows nothing of the rodeo scene, but joins anyway. After Stede Bonnet gets bucked off, Edward Teach decides to teach him how to barrel race.

OR

Two cowboys fall in love.

Notes:

hey!!! i hope everybody enjoys this. the idea was sparked by @DevinDivineArt’s cowboy au art 🫶

a few disclaimers:
- i ride horses so some of my terms might be a little more technical than those would like,, just ask if you’re confused
- i do NOT barrel race or ride dressage so idk if what i say abt them is accurate
- also don’t know much abt the rodeo scene soo
- loosely based on brokeback mountain

slight tw for mention of animal abuse!!!

Chapter 1: The Gentleman Cowboy

Chapter Text

Stede Bonnet needed out, he needed to get away from his life. He was uncomfortable in a married state. He was forced into marriage, forced to procreate. His wife had money, so marrying her felt more like a corporate deal than an actual marriage. They might have been legally married, but they didn’t feel married. They ate dinner at different times, his wife was gone most nights, he spent time elsewhere while she cared for the kids. He didn’t know her and she didn’t know him. It wasn’t a marriage, there was no love. Stede needed to be someone else, he needed to reinvent himself. And so he did. 

 

“Next up is Stede Bonnet… the Gentleman Cowboy, riding Revenge!” an announcer boomed into the mic. Stede was a rodeo man now. He had left his wife and bought a horse. She was a cute, thirteen hands tall mare named Sarah, but her show name was Revenge .

Stede Bonnet may have been new to the rodeo scene, but he was not a stranger to riding horses. When he was a child, he had many horses that lived on the land his father owned. His mother Sarah (who he named his horse after) taught him dressage; a beautiful, calm style of riding, where the main goal was to make your horse look flexible and obedient. The rodeo was nothing like that. 

The rodeo was a harsh place full of harsh people. There was never a day without broken bones, and after the events were over and all the cowboys went to the bars, it almost always ended in a fight, or three. The biggest rodeo event was the most dangerous: bull riding. It was a violent sport where a rider would mount a bucking bull and attempt to stay on for as long as possible. The longer the time the better. The rider usually lasted an average of five seconds on the bull before being promptly thrown off. This was not what Stede did.

Stede engaged in a slightly less dangerous sport: barrel racing. Here, the shorter the time the better. A rider’s goal was to maneuver their horse around three barrels as fast as possible. It was a thrilling thing to do and the complete opposite of the fancy, elegant style of dressage he was used to.

Stede was not very good at barrel racing.

As music played on the speakers, Revenge strolled into the arena, picking her hooves up high. It was the correct gait – a canter – but insanely slow. The crowd looked shocked and confused. Stede, who was wearing an all white outfit, looked very happy. Revenge calmly turned around each barrel, prancing. and then went out the gate one baby step at a time. It was the worst time anyone had ever seen. 4:35. Stede was practically booed out of the arena.

“That was amazing, girl! Hell yeah!” Stede patted Sarah’s neck. She hadn’t even broken a sweat; every horse they walked past that already showed had.

Stede walked Sarah into her stall and handed her to Lucius. He quickly unbridled her and put on her fancy, bejeweled halter before shooting a glance towards Black Pete, who looked very disappointed.

”What?” Stede asked. He was very confused as to what he did wrong.

“That was horrible,” Lucius retorted.

“That was great! She looked so good!”

“This isn’t fucking dressage, Stede! You’re not trying to look pretty, you’re trying to go around those barrels as fast as possible. You set a new all time worst record today with four minutes and thirty-five seconds. It’s honestly embarrassing for me as Sarah’s trainer. People aren’t going to respect me in this industry,” Black Pete snapped. He cared very much about his reputation, and was specifically trying to impress the greatest barrel racer out there today — and debatably of all time — Blackbeard. Stede might’ve just ruined that by putting on a fucking dressage show. Pete stormed off.

“I didn’t think—”

“--clearly. Groom your horse, Stede. I’ll talk to him.” Lucius shoved a brush into Stede’s hand and ran after Black Pete. Stede watched sadly as Lucius put a hand on Pete’s shoulder and as Pete shrugged him off, visibly angry.

Stede thought he was a horrible cowboy. Maybe this wasn’t the life for him after all.




Laughter erupted in the air, glasses clinked. Tonight was another buzzing night at Jackie’s, the best bar to go to after a day at the rodeo. Blackbeard was surrounded by a group of men listening to him tell a story about the time he worked a pony who couldn’t stop bucking him off. 

“I had to put my fuckin’ spurs on! The little shit was so annoying. That’s why I say never trust a fuckin’ pony, they’re the damn devil’s spawn.” Blackbeard’s southern accent was heavy when he had whiskey in his body. He sounded like he was straight out of a western. The people around him thought it made him seem all the more rugged and scary, like he would pull a gun out and challenge anyone to a duel at any moment.

Someone at some point ordered another round of shots. Blackbeard downed three.

“Hey, we bought one shot for everybody, you can’t have three!” a man yelled.

Blackbeard drunkenly tossed two shot glasses towards the noise. One hit the post above the man, glass shattered down onto his cowboy hat. The other hit him in the nose, causing it to bleed and most likely be broken. “I can do whatever the hell I fuckin’ please, asshole.”

The man didn’t bother engaging in the fight any more. He suddenly realized why everyone was so scared of Blackbeard. He was violent and ruthless, and if the rumors were true, he wasn’t particularly kind to his horses, either. 

“Don’t you think that was a bit much, Edward?” a nice looking guy with a big white beard named Fang asked. He was a trainer that worked for Blackbeard. He also bred sheep dogs. The man next to him was Ivan, a groom for Blackbeard. He took care of the horses and was a nice man. The final person in this quartet was Izzy Hands, who was about as feared as Blackbeard himself. He was known for his harsh work tactics and his poor treatment of his horses. In the past, he was a popular bull rider, but after he met Blackbeard, all he ever did was follow him around.

“Wasn’t harsh at all, Fang. Remember your place,” Izzy snapped. He had a habit of doing this, answering for Edward. It bothered no one but Fang and Ivan, who thought if Edward wanted to say something, he should say it himself. They’d never say this to Edward or to Izzy with fear of being reprimanded. Though Blackbeard thought he preferred to be spoken for. Words and thoughts and emotions were hard for him. 

Suddenly, the entire bar went quiet, and, almost as if they were programmed zombies, they turned to look at the same corner of the room at once. Standing in the doorway was a man in fancy white rodeo gear with two men trailing behind him. “Hey, y’all!” the fancy looking man called out.

“Izzy, who the hell is that?” Edward asked quietly. He knew everybody in the industry, but he didn’t know this guy.

“Name’s Stede Bonnet, goes by the Gentleman Cowboy. He was a privileged little rich boy whose mommy taught him dressage. He brought that to the show ring today and now has the all time worst record with four minutes and thirty-five seconds.”

“Fuckin’ hell. He’s insane.” Edward didn’t say that like it was a bad thing, though, more like he admired the amount of balls it would have taken to do dressage in front of a barrel racing crowd.

Secretly, Edward always wanted to try dressage. It was so beautiful and so fancy, but he would be the laughing stock of the rodeo scene if he did. Rugged cowboys weren’t fancy. Edward Teach wasn’t fancy. It would never be him.

Edward watched him; watched how the man sauntered into a crowd of unfriendly people after making a career-ending move like he owned the place; watched how he attempted conversation with a few men; watched how he dodged their flying glasses; watched how he looked nervous when the glass hit someone else and a bar fight broke out as if that was an unfamiliar sight; and watched how he ignored the fight and walked over to the bar and ordered a margarita as if he was a regular. Every move he made, it shocked and equally intrigued Edward.

“What’s his horse’s name?” Edward asked, eyes still glued on the man.

“Revenge,” answered Izzy.

“Who’s it related to?”

“No one special. She’s a rescue.” Izzy huffed, obviously annoyed with Edward’s questioning.

“Fascinating,” breathed Edward. No one in this industry got a rescue, or if they did, it certainly wasn’t a show horse. Selective breeding was highly valued with professional riders. You wanted a horse with the best traits, so people typically bred famous horses. Everybody’s horse had a famous relative, that was how it worked. 

Edward’s staring was cut short when a woman in a crop top and short shorts put a hand on his shoulder and sat down beside him. He feigned interest.




Stede sipped lightly on his drink and scanned the room. The place smelled of sweat and dirt and alcohol, the loud buzz of conversation and music was overwhelming. A couple tables down, a woman splashed a drink in a man’s face and told him he’s an asshole. Across the room, a fight broke out. In the corner, a tall man slammed his fist into the jukebox in hopes that the machine would take his money and play his favorite song. Near the bathrooms, a man and a woman made out. And in the middle, amidst all the chaos, was a man with brown skin, long salt and pepper hair, and a big curly beard talking to a scantily clad woman and looking wildly uncomfortable. He wore black western pants, a tight purple shirt that perfectly outlines his muscular chest, and a black cowboy hat. His right arm was filled to the brim with tattoos, it was draped over his chair. A cigarette was between his fingers, his hand was half covered by fingerless gloves. His left leg crossed over his right leg, where a knee brace was tightened on his knee. He had two knives on both sides of his hips. Something lurched in Stede’s stomach as he examined the cowboy. Whoever he was, Stede wanted to know more.

“Pete, who’s that?” Stede whisper-yelled over a Hank Williams song playing in the background.

“Stede, you don’t want to know who he is,” Lucius interjected.

“It’s fine, honey. That right there is Blackbeard. He’s the best barrel racer of all time and is a damn good bull rider too,” Black Pete explained.

“Yeah and he’s also a horrible person. He starts fights for fun and is an asshole to everybody he meets. There’s also rumor he mistreats his horses. Don’t ever talk to him, Stede,” Lucius warned.

“That’s just rumor . I met Blackbeard once at a show up in Wisconsin. He would kill for his horses. I bet the Badmintons started that rumor. Don’t believe everything you hear, Luce. The other stuff though? All true. He’s a huge asshole. I told him how much of an inspiration he was to me and he spat on the ground and said, ‘How’s that for inspiration?’ Although the one next to him is an even bigger dick.” Pete pointed to the short, angry looking man beside the cowboy. 

At some point during Pete’s rambling, Stede zoned out. He had become focused on Blackbeard and all of his actions.

Stede watched him; watched how Blackbeard downed a glass of whiskey and slammed it back on the table; watched how Blackbeard moved away from the woman beside him; watched how a shirtless cowboy walked up to Blackbeard; watched how Blackbeard turned his body towards the man; watched how upon doing so his muscles relaxed; watched how the woman angrily walked away; watched how the man sat down besides Blackbeard and touched his shoulder and Blackbeard leaned closer into him, looked him up and down, and smiled; watched how Blackbeard bought him and drink; and watched how they spoke for a few minutes before leaving together. 

Lucius laughed but Stede didn’t get the joke. Lucius and Black Pete gave each other a look, they were speaking a language Stede didn’t understand.

Blackbeard didn’t seem like such the asshole they were making him out to be. He seemed like a sweet guy, really. He was very friendly with both the man and the woman, even if the latter seemed to make him uncomfortable with how touchy she was. The Blackbeard Lucius described would’ve thrown a glass in both their faces. Stede wanted to know this Blackbeard.

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the fearsome Blackbeard riding The Kraken !” the announcer boomed into the mic, dragging out the horse’s name. 

Blackbeard had a stunning black stallion that stood about sixteen hands. The Kraken’s father was named Oceanus, and he was insanely fast. He and his rider previously held the record for fastest ever barrel race before Blackbeard and The Kraken beat it. This was why good genes paid off.

The Kraken burst out of the gate and sped across the arena like a streak of black. He turned tightly around barrel number one and darted to barrel number two, which he cleared like a champ. Streak of black. Tight turn around barrel three and then The Kraken raced faster than the speed of light out the gate.

Thirteen seconds. Blackbeard just set a new world record, previously held by him with sixteen seconds.

There was a round of celebrations at Jackie’s that night. Blackbeard had made history again.





The next day was the final day of the rodeo events. Today was Challenge Day. Everything was the same, except the riders didn’t get to choose who they rode. It was the luck of the draw.

Blackbeard rode first. He hit it out of the park with a twenty second run on a horse named Queen Anne. 

The man who rode Revenge was next. She did everything like a dressage horse, until the man on top of her began kicking her with his spurs. Suddenly, Revenge burst forward, not happily, and the pair got a time of 1:18. He looked very pissed when he dismounted. 

Lastly, it was Stede’s turn. He was given a big gelding named Royal James. It was daunting, but Stede felt up for the challenge. He tightened his fingers on the reins. Royal James did not like that. He lurched forward and began bucking so much someone would’ve mistaken this for a bull ride. Stede tightened his fingers more and pulled back and that was it, Royal James gave him one last good buck before Stede went flying into one of the barrels.

The crowd gasped as one. They hadn’t seen a barrel race go this badly in a long time.

Blackbeard jumped over the railing and ran over to Stede as someone caught Royal James. He knelt down beside the man and nudged his arm, checking for consciousness.

“The Gentleman Cowboy, I reckon?”

Stede looked up, shocked. “You’ve heard of me?”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you.”