Happy Cow Ranch

Sleeping Dogs

She's too strong.

Jamie Dutton turns around, stalking away from the window, a scowl on his face. He limps to the bathroom, bending at the waist as he turns on the tap. Using one hand he brings the warm water to his face, splashing it up, then drawing another. Keeping his body low, Jamie lifts his head to inspect his muddy, grimy face. With each splash a different image of that fucking girl flashes before his eyes, matched with one of her as a child.

Jamie lets out a short, sharp shout of frustration, slamming his hands on either side of the sink. He lifts his palms and inspects the splotchy red webbing across them, relishing in the pulsating sting that follows. He didn't expect her to fight back, to stay resilient; though, he supposes that that's what she did the first time.

He should have killed her. He knew it even when he had her defenselessly caged beneath his legs. Still, something had taken a hold of him; something primal, licentious, and riveting. Seeing her weak, bloody frame heaving below him, feeling powerful, all on his own... Jamie craved the feeling.

Jamie shakes his head, dragging his hand down, over his mouth. How could he be so weak? If he had just killed her, ignored his aching ego, all of his problems would've been solved, just like they were with that damned reporter. Now he had to try again, somehow without alerting his entire family, and before she was able to describe her captor.

At least she thought I was Malcolm Beck; Jamie lathers on shaving cream and grabs a razor. He frowns, staring into the sink. Where did she even get that idea? Does she not know that they're dead?

The cold blades rake his cheeks, drawing away any of that grime and stubble that once colored his jaw. He never should have freed those lowlifes. He should have hired some proper thieves that knew how to hide, and he wouldn't have had to deal with her in the first place. He knew that taking his father's cows to stock his new ranch was a risk, but there was something... poetic about it. Especially since the main reason he took her was to help his father's land acquisition. He never thought that she'd come back, but of course she had to, right after he promised a great meeting; it's like the little shit knew, or something.

Jamie inspects his clean shaven face, turning his chin with his hand before nodding with silent approval. It would have to do. He pulls on his suit jacket and places a cowboy hat atop his head, a desperate pull to the life he once wanted for himself. It seems silly now to have been so drawn to the ranching life, when his father wanted him to be a lawyer, and now that he wanted a career in the law path it wasn't good enough either. Nothing would ever be good enough for that man; Jamie shakes his head, leaving the warmth of the lodge to saunter through the crisp Montana air towards his truck.

It's going to be a very long day.

•••

"So... how did you know how to do that? I mean, no offense, but it's not very typical for veterinarians to do successful surgery on humans." Maisie crosses her arms, looking up at Logan. The vet glances around then meets her questioning stare.

"I went to med school. Learned everything I needed to, but right about the end of it decided that I'd rather help animals than people. They need it more, in my opinion." The boy's face got red as he glanced down to his interlaced fingers. "But the Duttons knew about my abilities as a doctor for humans and placed me on standby for when their other vet was out."

"That's why I 'strongly suggested' that you hire him. I wouldn't be surprised if some shit like this happens again." Beth announces, mirroring Maisie's position. Maisie turns her attention from Beth back to Logan. She surveys him, her eyes softening.

"Is that something you'd want?"

Logan tenses, a frown forming. Nobody'd ever asked him that before. He looks around at the group of ruthless defenders and then finally to the girl in the middle, sucking in a deep breath.

"Well, I mean..." He releases the air and nods. "Yes. I'd be honored."

Maisie claps her hands together with a grin, but grimaces shortly after. With one hand on her side she smiles up at him.

"I'll give you a week to back out. Then, you're all in," Maisie gives the man a nod. Logan returns the kindness by taking one of her hands and giving it a light squeeze.

"Thank you. Now, these pills will help with the pain, these will help you to sleep. I'll be around later to see you, and set up an IV if you need it. You're looking remarkably well, for you know... everything. The shrapnel came out cleanly, didn't puncture anything, and I was able to clean it up pretty well. Those bandages on your other wounds will need changing in about an hour, and you might get a fever; if you do, drink lots of water and eat something. You have my number, darlin'. Don't be afraid to call," He gives the girl a wink and a soft smile. John Dutton lays a hand on her shoulder, keeping her at an arms length. It could be because he's afraid to hurt her, but more likely that she just smells like burnt steak and sweat.

"Let's get you home, kid," He says, and when she turns to walk toward the door, he lifts his eyes to Logan, giving him a subtle, but grateful nod. Logan returns it and busies himself with tidying the space, ready for his next guest.

"Beth," Maisie whispers on the slow walk back to the truck. Beth looks down at the limping girl with slight attentiveness. Ryan, who supports her right side, pretends like he doesn't hear.

"What's up, Honey Bunch?" Beth shoots down, that uninterested air accumulating around her like a forty pound wall of bubble wrap, protecting her from the world. Beth's always thought that she was a curse—that everyone she loves dies after proximity to her—and when Maisie nearly fell victim to that curse, that wall Maisie had worked so hard to break down sprung right back up, stronger than ever.

Maisie frowns at the nickname, but shakes it off, knowing that she has much more important matters to tend to.

"We need to talk," She says, and continues when met with a raised eyebrow from Beth, "about the first time I was taken."

Beth swallows hard but nods, knowing that it would've come up eventually. She takes out a pack of cigarettes and sticks one in her mouth, lighting it with ease.

"Yeah, okay. But if you use those big doe eyes to pry information from me, I swear to God, I'll take one of your puppies back."