Happy Cow Ranch

Don't Take the Girl

Weston stretches tall, feeling the soft light of the sun warm his tense shoulders. He ruffles his hair and thinks of that tenacious little girl, and how he can't wait to see her again, wondering what 'ranch clothes' she'll have on today.
Maybe he'll let her have one or two of his rodeo belt buckles, though they'd probably be bigger than her whole waist. He giggles at this thought, then straightens up with a frown, clearing his throat. What the hell is this girl doing to me? He wonders, throwing a new plaid button down over his white tank top. When he's finished getting ready, he makes himself a mug of coffee and makes his way to the door, not even getting one foot outside before he's met with a fist to the gut.
The mug falls and shatters across the pine deck, and Wes stares at it before turning to see who had the audacity to do something like that.

"Where the hell is she?" The man who had the audacity, Rip Wheeler, demands in a growly voice. Weston frowns.

"What?"

Rip grabs each side of his collar and spins him around, pinning him against the door frame.

"What did you do to Maisie Walker?" Rip lifts Wes, then slams him again.

"Nothin'! I swear to God, I didn't do a thing to that girl. What the hell are you talking about? She's fine, she's up in the big house," Weston gestures with his head to the place they had eaten last night.

"No the fuck she is not," Rip snaps back, a snarl pulling at his lips. That brings a cool pallor to Weston's face, and he can feel how sticky and claustrophobic the air suddenly is. His palms feel shaky and cold, and yet sweaty at the same time.

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I fuckin' said. She's not there. And it doesn't seem that she wanted to leave," Rip tries to keep his angry demeanor, but can see that Wes knows even less than he does. Weston can see the blood on Rip's finger tips and breaks out of his hold, racing to the big house with Rip on his trail. He stops short when he sees John and Beth Dutton on the deck. John solemnly surveys the doorframe while Beth paces behind him, looking like a human tornado. Unfortunately, Beth catches his eyes and turns her warpath in his direction, passing John who looks up and follows her with his eyes.

"You." Her voice scrapes the country side like hot pokers against charcoal. "You slimy, miserable son of a bitch."

Weston freezes, but doesn't back down, letting her beat at his chest and arms.

"Mrs. Wheeler, Beth, please-" Wes raises his hands, and she lands a hard blow to his side. He winces but keeps himself from crumbling, looking down at her. "I didn't know, Beth. I didn't know."

She stops, looks up at him, then spits at his feet.

"You should've fucking known,"

Weston hangs his head, then follows her up the steps to where John is standing. John looks at him, then returns to the door frame.

"Jesus," Weston whispers. Blood is splattered across one of the sharp corners of the doorframe, dripping down to the base. Some of it is dried, but the rest is still streaming down, signifying that the attack was recent. "Are we sure it's hers?"

Weston knows the answer, but asks anyway, hoping that there's some possibility that she's fine, and just went for a stroll early in the morning, and that maybe a bird just hit the open door. Unfortunately, there are no birds around, and the mark on the door is exactly Maisie's head height.

"It's definitely hers. The bedroom is much worse though," John says, finally turning away from the blood. Weston frowns at this. If this isn't where she was when the attackers came, then why was she here?

Weston realizes the answer to this question when he raises his head to see the straight shot from the men's location to the bunkhouse.

"She was trying to get to me..." He mutters, feeling horror and guilt take over. His whole job is to protect his boss, and the ranch, and he failed within his first few hours. John's last words finally register, and Weston frowns, making his way up the stairs until he sees a door nearly broken off its hinges. He gulps and stumbles inside, looking around slowly. The bed is in shambles, sheets and blankets thrown everywhere. Blood stains parts of the white carpet, and a candle is knocked over, hardened wax spilling onto the nightstand.
"Who would..." Weston trails off when he hears a small yip come from the other room. He opens the door and the two puppies come spilling out, claw marks deep in the lower section of the door. "You poor things."

Weston picks up the two dogs and makes his way back down to where the Duttons wait.

"What's the plan?" Weston asks, ignoring the looks from Rip and John.

"First we have to find out who the hell would take her. It can't be the people who took her the first time, because we killed them," John commands.

"We didn't kill their boss though," Rip confesses, shame coloring his features and darkening his eyes.

"Is there anyone else that wouldn't want her knowing about them? Anyone she would've caught doing something they shouldn't?" Wes asks, being new to this whole situation.

"That creep that hit on her at Randy's," Beth offers, but Rip shakes his head, looking up at John.

"The cattle thieves."

John's eyes widen and he straightens up.

"No... they didn't even see her, they don't know, they wouldn't..." John tries to rationalize, but Rip shakes his head again.

"She said they waved at her," Rip recalls, and the color drains from John's face.

"Call Kayce. Now." John turns and storms out the front door, leaving the others behind. He sinks into an adirondack chair on the porch, holding his head in his hands. How could he let this happen again? She'd been back for five days and he already lost her again.

About an hour later, Kayce jumps out of a large Yellowstone truck and marches up to his father.

"We lost two of the four. We thought we got 'em all, but I guess they ran," Kayce informs him. John thinks for a minute.

"Did either of them get hit?"

"One, yeah. There's a blood trail to some tire tracks," Kayce nods, studying his dad. He hasn't seen him this wound up in a while. From what he remembers, Maisie was just an annoying little girl who wouldn't stop hanging on him and bringing him flowers and... and listening to him anytime he needed to talk to someone about anything... Oh God. He realizes. She was the best, most normal thing to happen to him besides Monica, and he treated her like she was a fly buzzing around his head.

"The kid's gone, isn't she?" A voice sounds from behind Kayce. John looks up over Kayce's shoulder and nods, causing Kayce to turn and see which of the other agents had decided to leave the truck. It belongs to Ryan, a ranch hand at Yellowstone, just recently branded. He hadn't been there when she was taken the first time, but has proved that he can be trusted with this. "We'll find her."

"You'd better,"