Happy Cow Ranch

Like a Cowboy

I grin and wave to Mr. Dutton as he pulls away, extremely grateful for the unlocked memories. I feel more at home here, like I've got family right next door. I can't stop thinking about what Rip said though, and wonder how I would go about acquiring those missing pieces of my memory—or if I even should. If it's bad enough to make Beth Dutton shudder, it must've been horrific.

I wander through my home, making myself a drink and settling on my back porch. There's a bend in the property, a semicircle where the Dutton's land dips into mine, but I don't mind so much anymore. I see four men hustling cattle up the hill and I smile and wave at them. They freeze for a minute, lean forward, then wave back and continue. I take a sip of my drink and settle in on the soft couch, falling asleep within minutes.

When I wake up I hurry over to the stables and pull Thunder out, saddling her up and racing over to my cattle pen, huddling up the cows like I saw those men doing. It doesn't go very well. I'm hooting and hollering, turning Thunder on a dime. Her head whips back and forth, trying to keep up, but she rears, and nearly throws me.

"Woah, girl!" I exclaim, gripping the reins as she settles. The cows are still causing a ruckus, and I can't even hear the door to Mr. Dutton's truck closing, or him muttering 'Jesus'. I do however hear him when he yells my name. When I turn to look, Thunder rears again, and Mr. Dutton raises an eyebrow with a vague impressed expression as he watches me calm her.

"Come on, Rip," He calls, but Rip is already headed over and yelling at my cattle, getting them back in their pen. Mr. Dutton stalks over and takes Thunder's reins, patting her neck.

"What the hell were you thinkin'?" He asks with a slight smirk, laughter in his tone. I hang my head and sway on Thunder's back.

"I just... I thought I was supposed to take the cows up to drink and eat," I confess, shame coloring my cheeks. He frowns.

"Well, sure, but not alone. Plus, you've got feed in the troughs. Where'd you get the idea to do that?" He asks, looking around.

"Your men, actually, I watched 'em taking some cattle up the hill, and figured it was probably a good idea."

Both Mr. Dutton and Rip freeze, the two men looking at each other instantly. Rip stalks over to where I sit on Thunder, looking up at me through his dark aviators.

"We didn't have any men out last night," Mr. Dutton tells me, his voice cool.

"S-Sure you did, I saw 'em in that bend, right there! They waved at me!" I point to where his property curves into mine, and he follows my finger.

"Which way were they going?"

"Up, over that hill, there," I indicate again, looking confused. The two men share a knowing glance.

"That goes to the road," Rip states, and Mr. Dutton nods.

"Fuckin' cattle thieves. Call Kayce, tell him to get ready," Mr. Dutton instructs him, then turns back to me. "Did you do this?"

I freeze under his scrutinizing stare, but Thunder shifts nervously beneath me.

"Steal your cows? Why would I steal—" I start, but Mr. Dutton raises a hand.

"That symbol on your chest means that no one can hurt you... don't forget who put it on you," He indicates with one finger to the place where the brand rests beneath my shirt. I gulp, though I really haven't done anything.

"Mr. Dutton, I swear to you—" I begin again, but he just shakes his head.

"Don't promise me anything," He spits and helps me off my horse. He follows me while I put her away, watching my every move. I pet Thunder's muzzle and head back to where Mr. Dutton waits. "Show me all your cattle."

"Aww, that's cute! You know what all your cows look like? That's so sweet!" I exclaim, grinning. He blinks down at me, then glances just over my head as though he's thinking. He looks back at me.

"What?"

"I mean, that's why you'd want me to show you the cows, right?" I let my head tilt to the right, frowning.

"I'm checking for the brand, hon," He gives a light smirk, head angled almost all the way down to look at me.

"You brand your cows? I thought you just branded people!" I cry, then realize how absurd my statement was. He raises an eyebrow. I sigh and motion for him to follow me, then lead him back to the cattle pen.

After a thorough inspection of all of my cattle, he nods to Rip.

"She's telling the truth,"

"And you doubted me," I tease, crossing my arms. He raises his hands in faux surrender and nods.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry. Just had to check,"

"So, what were y'all doing up here? Can I get you some lemonade? I'll whip up a batch," I smile, hopping up onto the porch. When I turn around the boys are grinning, but they quickly school their expressions when they see that I'm looking.

"We're okay. Rip and Beth are gonna take you into town, Rip's gonna find you a ranch hand or two, and my daughter's going to get you used to Montana again," Mr. Dutton tells me. Oh, thanks, because I had no plans. I cross my arms, then drop them with a prick of embarrassment. I had no plans.

"Oh, don't worry 'bout me, I'll get by. I've already printed up some ads for ranch hands!" I beam, opening the door and picking up the newspaper with my ad in it. I hand it to Rip, who squints at it through his aviators, then looks up at me.

"'Happy Cow Ranch'?" He asks dubiously, still holding the newspaper.

"That's what she chose to call it," Mr. Dutton chuckles and takes the newspaper from him, then hands it back to me. "Cute logo. I'll stay here and brand those cows for you, you don't have too many—"

"No!" I exclaim, stumbling off the porch. "No, I'm not going to brand them. It's called Happy Cow Ranch. Can't imagine I was too happy when you gave me this—"

I pull my shirt down, just the top of the Y showing. Mr. Dutton purses his lips, lowering his head.

"You gotta know they're yours somehow. Unbranded cows are a cattle thief's dream," Mr. Dutton tells me. I bite my lip, thinking for a minute before I grin.

"I've got an idea."

A few hours later, we finally finish shaving a little sun into each of the cattle's rear flank, a harmless, but equally effective alternative. Rip wipes his forehead and pushes off of a cow to stand up straight.

"Clever," He smirks at me, then takes the razors from both me and Mr. Dutton.

"It'll be a good place holder until some tags arrive," I tell him, dusting off my pants.

"I'll take that lemonade now," Mr. Dutton quips, and I oblige, leading the men back to the house. When I look up at my porch, however, Beth is swaying back and forth in the porch swing I installed the day before.

"O-Oh, hi!" I hop up onto the porch, opening the door. "Would you like some lemonade?"

Beth stares up at me, then shrugs.

"Put gin in it," She says, but follows me when I go inside. "Where are your ranching clothes?"

I gesture down at my tank top, ripped jeans, and Air Force 1s, and when I look up I'm met with a slap to the face.

"Hey!" I rub my cheek, pouting.

"If you ever say that again, I'll do worse than smack you," She threatens, then starts walking up the stairs. "Where's your bedroom?"

She turns before I can get a word out and goes inside. Quickly, I pour the two men a glass of lemonade, run it out to them, then jog up the stairs to find Beth. She's standing in my closet, tossing shoes out, onto my bedroom floor.

"Where are your hats?" She demands.

"Right up there, th—" I begin to indicate toward my baseball caps and straw hat.

"Your cowboy hats, dumbass. You used to have more than anyone I ever knew; a hat for every day. And more for special occasions," She remarks, going through my shirts now.

"I grew out of 'em... I mean, I don't need one, do I?" I ask, and she snorts immediately.

"That's cute."