Happy Cow Ranch

Girl in a Country Song

"Get up." A husky voice yanks me from my sleep, accompanied with a sharp kick. A tidal wave of pain and nausea comes crashing over me, causing me to whimper and curl into a fetal position, feeling bile rise into my throat.

"Oh god..." I mutter, turning away before emptying the limited contents of my stomach. I can hear laughter behind me, and it takes everything in me not to whip around and see who it is. I raise myself slowly, barely glancing over my shoulder before attempting to stand. Chris, the big man who wanted to hurt me is the one who was laughing, standing beside the other, leaner man, and behind a grisly, conflicted-looking man. I don't recognize this man, but something in my gut tells me to get as far away from him as possible.

"Good morning, sunshine. Can't believe you're finally up!" The man in front spreads his arms wide with an unsettling grin, then drops that whole demeanor to give me a dubious look, "Or that you came back to Montana."

"Wh-Who are you?" I ask, frowning at his last comment. Does everyone in this town know about my sad little story?

"Oh, well, that's a shame. You swore you'd never forget me. I suppose that'll indicate the trustworthiness of your word." His smile is sharp; like someone carved it into him with knives. His eyes gleam with the faux friendliness of a celebrity that doesn't want a PR crisis.

"You were there when I was taken?" I whisper, backing away. The man laughs, kneeling down in front of me. When I turn my head to see that I can't back up anymore, he grabs my chin and yanks my face back to look at him. His eyes wander over my face—sweaty and bloody, a few bruises forming on my cheeks—down to my shaking limbs. He smirks and tuts, shaking his head and giving me a condescending look.

"Oh, honey... I took you," He lets the words drip from his mouth with some sort of pride in his dark eyes. He must expect me to cower, to cry, to tremble with fear, because when I snarl and hock up saliva, he frowns, curiosity nailing him to the spot. Only when the spit lands on his cheek with a momentous splat does he close his eyes and grimace, allowing me enough vulnerability to make sure he never has children with a swift kick to his acorn-sized balls.

"Don't call me 'honey', you patronizing, manipulative sack of dog-shit," I glare at him, sitting upright. "I swear to sweet Mother Mary and beautiful Brad Pitt that I will tear you to pieces for what you did. You stole ten years of my life!"

The man sits up with a groan and blinks, wiping my spit off his cheek, never taking his eyes from me. He glances down at his hand, then back up to me.

"I only had you for a week." He wipes his hands together then onto his slacks. He obviously doesn't understand the loving family he stole from me. "And besides: you can't do a single thing to me, sweetheart."

He takes a pause to look me over again and push me down. I smack my head on the wall, hard enough to hear a crack.

"If you can't tell, you have no power in this situation," He laughs, standing up and brushing his hands off.

"We'll see about that," I mutter, trying to find a way out of the bindings he has me in. My thoughts wander to the Duttons, then drift to Wes, my new ranch hand. Oh God, and my poor puppies. They must be so scared.

"I must say: this is definitely more enjoyable than when you were eight," He sighs, sitting back in a chair.

"Ew, creep," My lips twitch into a sneer. The man rolls his eyes.

"Antonio, go get the battery." He indicates to the lean man beside Chris. Antonio gives me a look of pity but does as he's told. "You know you're gonna die, right? I'm not holding you for a week to get the Dutton's attention this time, you saw something you weren't supposed to, and now I'm gonna have to kill you for it."

"Well, you're doing an awful lot of talking with not much killing," I raise an eyebrow. He chuckles and I shift. "What do you want from me? Why haven't you killed me yet?"

"I figured you'd want something from me," He inspects his nails.

"God, you're disgusting!" My lips curl up as I scoot back.

"Get your head out of the gutter, princess. You may be pretty, but I am capable of thoughts other than ravishing you," His tone is completely uninterested, but his eyes tell a different story than the words coming out of his mouth.

"Well, I do want to go home. That's something I want." I shift hard but manage nothing more than to pull the restraints over my head to see that they're handcuffs threaded through iron chains.

"That's not what I'm talking about,"

"What do you think I want?" I frown, keeping my eyes fixed on his. He turns his head to me, makes eye contact, then looks away.

"Memories, closure, the like." The man twirls his hand with leisure.

"How about your name?" I raise an eyebrow.

"Haha, that was cute. Not happening, sweetheart," The man looks slightly amused.

"If you know you're gonna kill me, then what does it matter? What am I gonna do, blab about you to my grandfather?" I spit, leaning back while trying with great difficulty to cross my arms.

"You wouldn't have to. Your grandfather knew me," He says with little emotion before lighting up. "Ah, Antonio! Perfect timing, hook her up."

Antonio moves around me, attaching jumper cables to the chains just out of my reach. I try desperately to shake them off, but nothing.

"Don't do this, Antonio. I know you don't want to. Get out of here now before-" I'm cut off by the man's laughter.

"Before what? Before you break out of those chains and kill us all?" He paints his words in sarcasm. I shoot him a look and huff.

"Maybe. I mean, if my version of 'kill' is the same as yours, I'm doing a damn good job," I puff my chest out, but when I see Antonio situate the car battery next to the boss I shrink with an 'eep'. The man laughs and turns a dial on the battery.

"Let's see how good you do now."