Happy Cow Ranch

God's Country

I summit the hill, looking over my shoulder to see Mr. Dutton climbing up behind me, focusing on the horn of his saddle. When he looks up he relaxes, sliding back in his seat.

"It's good land," He says, and I nod.

"It's better than that." I turn my head, gazing across my property, my stake in this big world. The sun lowers itself lazily under the mountains, using its rays to grasp at every last cloud it can. The gold tinge colors the waving acres of wheatgrass and paints shadows on the ground beneath my forest. My cattle shuffle in their pens, letting out small lows, and I can see Beth and Rip resting on each other on my front porch swing, Wes making his way up from the bunkhouse. Subconsciously, I gulp, tightening my grip on the reigns.

Something about him makes me uneasy, whether it's his size and obvious power, or something else deep inside that I haven't seen yet, I don't know, but I do have my eyes on him. Another part of me, however, feels drawn to him. I hope it's like bees to pollen rather than a moth to a flame.

"It's getting dark... let's head back, kid." He turns his horse, still looking at me as I give a final once over to the ranch. I follow behind, slowly making my way down the hill. We form a rocking line, making our way to the stables, putting our horses away, then head up to the house, my ranch hand and old friends following immediately. With a bloom of pride in my chest, I head to the kitchen and start cooking. Beth sits comfortably at the kitchen table, chatting with Rip who sits silently with the grin of a love struck fool.

I give a soft smile and shake my head at this, remembering how I used to try to push them together as a kid. Unfortunately, this brings a bubbling headache just above my eyes, and I shut them with a wince.

"You alright?" I hear Weston's gruff voice behind me, using everything in me to not jump or squeak. With a slight frown of confusion I turn around slowly, holding a slightly smooshed meatball between my tongs. God, he's tall. The muscly giant stands with his arms crossed, an untamed eyebrow raised. It's then that I notice the jagged scar cutting into his left brow, the slices on his cheek and chin, and racing stripe in his hair that shines white in the amber kitchen lights. "Kid?"

"Uh, yeah, sorry. I've just been getting small headaches every now and again," I shrug, turning my face to hide my reddened cheeks. Wes nods sagely, pursing his lips.

"Mmm," He agrees, gesturing up with his head. "Probably the change in altitudes. Happened to me when I came up here."

I nod along, knowing that's not why. Turning back to the hot saucepan, I plop the meatball back in, then reach for the leftover sauce from when Mr. Dutton came over.

"Right. Well, dinner will be ready soon, so why don't you sit down? Make yourself comfortable. I'll stock the bunkhouse fridge tomorrow, but you're welcome to eat up here anytime," I offer, trying to seem like a cool boss, and nothing more. Wes snickers and leans on the door frame, bending slightly at the waist.

"Your cheeks always that pink? Or do I just make you nervous?" He seems to dare, his tongue held between his teeth, barely making it to the edge of his pillowy lip. I can feel heat flush up from my chest to my face, and clench my fists when he laughs. "So I make you nervous."

"You do not!" I hit his chest with a towel, and cross my arms. "It's just part of the headaches."

Concern flashes across his face and he straightens up, raising his hand and frowning when I automatically flinch back. He then raises both hands in surrender, walking slower.

"It might not be altitudes then. It might be a fever. Lemme just check," He says, carefully raising his hand again to my forehead, keeping eye contact with me the whole time. He then drops it to my cheek, grimacing when I tense, my eyes darting to his hand. He completely steps away, smiling softly. "You're fine, kid. Don't be so nervous."

He turns away from me, gives one last glance over his shoulder, then shakes his head and sits down at the table. I squint at him, watching in confusion as he easily joins the conversation. What the hell is he trying to do?

The rise of a savory aroma alerts me to stir the sauce one more time before plating the meatballs and depositing the food to each guest.

"Don't tell me... the secret ingredient is love," Beth cocks an eyebrow after her first bite. "I can see why Daddy wanted to stay for dinner."

Mr. Dutton wipes his mouth and drops the napkin back in his lap, nodding as if to say 'damn straight.'

The rest of the evening is filled with laughter, easy conversation, and a strong sense of family and belonging. Beth tells stories from when I was young, how she had taught me to be so fearless, that when I went missing from the ranch one night, they found me completely fine, curled up in a wolf pack and sound asleep.

"It's true. I remember how many times you scared the shit out of me like that, and you would just smile, completely unfazed," Mr. Dutton adds, then stands, the rest of us following him with our eyes. "I think it's time we took our leave."

The other members of the Yellowstone family nod, then rise from their seats, Weston and I along with them. Mr. Dutton sets his hat on his head, scoots it down, then turns for the door.

"See ya tomorrow, kid," He says over his shoulder, then leaves. The puppies that were laying on the rug in the living room raise their heads to watch the Duttons leave, then drop them again, Koda resting his head on Hoka's back. I smile at the pups, then turn back to Weston when the door closes.

"Well, I suppose I ought to head to bed, too. Long day tomorrow," Weston bows his head to look down at me. I nod and cross my arms tightly across my chest.

"I suppose so. I'll see you bright and early, Tex," I tease, letting one arm raise to my chin as I watch him walk out. He pops his back then continues on to the bunkhouse. I chuckle softly and get ready for bed, the two dogs following at my heels. For the night, I put them in a separate room, just so they can get used to not being around me.

Blowing out my candles, I turn over, thinking of all the good my week has brought, and how lucky I am to be in this new land with this new family. A few minutes after I close my eyes I'm woken by the sound of my puppies barking up a storm.

"Koda, Hoka, go to bed! You're fine, Momma's just in the room across from you," I call out with a smile, settling back in. A hand grabs my arm though, and I bolt awake, panic freezing me to the spot. I look into the eyes of a large man and recognize him almost immediately. He was one of the horsemen Mr. Dutton accused of being a cattle thief. I open my mouth to scream for help, but he clasps his dirty, calloused palm over my lips. I bite at his hand, my limbs finally gaining enough ferocity to beat at him, trying to break away, my fingers clawing mercilessly toward his face. He just takes both hands with ease while another man comes in and tries to take my legs. I manage to kick him in the chin, however, and he stumbles back, covering his mouth with his hand. When he pulls it away, I can see the blood dripping from his lips, and I gulp. He lunges towards me with a shout, but the other man pushes him back.

"Goddammit, Chris! Not yet!" The first man exclaims, and I make a mental note of the name. "We bag her, then take her to the boss. He decides what happens, you hear me?"

While the two men are distracted, I kick the first man in the stomach, freeing all my limbs and try to escape, sprinting out of the room, and down the stairs. I keep running until I'm just about to exit the house, calling for Wes, but knowing he can't hear me. A massive hand grabs my arm and whips me back, straight into the corner of the doorframe, knocking me out immediately.