Rancher's Daughter

Little Dutton

The heat is tempered slightly by the shade of the barn she's sitting in. Shiloh is bent over the engine of one of the ranch trucks, working under the hood. She is elbow deep in motor oil and who knows what, when she is nearly scared out of her skin by Ryan's hysterical shout of, "Shiloh!"

She jumps, hitting her head on the hood of the truck and falling off of the stool she was standing on, landing on her ass in the gravel. "Fuck," she hisses as she picks herself up and rushes to meet Ryan, who is nearly to the double doors of the barn. "Ryan, what the hell?"

"Shiloh, you gotta come quick! One of the hands got his arm caught in the chute and he got trampled!"

"Fuck, ok. Ryan, go run up to the house. Get my medic kit out of my truck and get someone to call 911!"

All of the Dutton kids had skills, and Shiloh's happened to be emergency medicine. She was a certified paramedic, and she was a hell of a good person to have when shit hit the fan.

Ryan nods in understanding, making a beeline for the main house, while Shiloh hurries to the chutes. Rip is on the ground, pressing a dirty shirt to something that she can't see yet. The red dirt bites into her bare thighs as she slides up beside him. On the ground is a ranch hand named Kevin. And his arm is mangled. And the rest of him doesn't look too good either. His arm is spurting blood faster than the shirt can catch it. "Rip, give me your belt!" she demands, edging him out of the way and taking the appendage into her lap, her cutoffs immediately getting soaked. "Kevin, it's ok. I'm here," she assures him, giving him a tight smile. Rip quickly pulls his belt through the loops and thrusts it at her. She makes fast work of making a tourniquet. "Dammit! Rip, find Ryan, he's getting my bag!" Kevin's breaths are wet, and blood is seeping through his teeth. Seconds later, John and Ryan run into the fray side by side.

"Shiloh?" John barks.

"How long on that ambulance?" she demands, meeting the concerned eyes of her father.

"At least half an hour."

"Fuck." She looks up at her dad and shakes her head. There was no way that Kevin was going to make it that long. "Chopper?"

"Jamie took it." Shiloh lets out a rough breath and her head drops a little.

"Rip, open my bag, I need to help him get an airway. He can't breathe. A silver L-shaped metal tool, a plastic tube, and the air bag." Shiloh is trying everything she can to hold him off until the ambulance arrived.

Rip placed the items carefully in her hands and gave her a sure nod. He believed in her. Taking a fortifying breath, she steeled herself. She put her fingers under Kevin's broken jaw, tilting him up by the chin and opened his mouth. The light shows what she feared. His throat is crushed. She isn't sure she can even get the tube down his throat. She closes her eyes to gather her thoughts. She calculates her next move, and a hand lands on her shoulder. Rip smiles down at her reassuringly, and she lays her cheek on his hand.

"Fuck, ok. New game plan. I can't get the tube in this way. I need a scalpel and a syringe." She has never done a tracheotomy. But there's a first time for everything. Rip hands her a scalpel and a syringe. Her hand is steady as she makes the small cut. Using her fingers, she completes the process, sliding the syringe in the wound and pulling the plunger out. The harsh intake of air is met with her own relieved sigh. Her head drops between her shoulders.

...

Shiloh knows Kevin isn't going to make it until the ambulance arrives. Sitting beside him, she pets his hair softly, and they all sit in silence, until, with a choked breath, Kevin loses the fight. His eyes lock with hers, and Shiloh gently closes them. She's covered in blood, dirt, oil, and everything in between, and she couldn't feel more raw. Everything feels like it stops until the sound of sirens pierce the air harshly.

...

After showering the blood off, Shiloh sinks into a hot bath, bringing her knees up and resting her cheek on them. In truth, she'd seen animals, and hell, even people die before, but sitting there, holding Kevin in her lap had been too much. She knows she did everything she could, but it doesn't make it any easier.

The bathroom door opens with a creak, and the sound of stilettos on the stone floor alert her to Beth's presence. Shiloh doesn't look up. Beth sinks down to her knees, taking the cloth from the side of the tub, dips it into the water, and begins to slowly run it over the skin of Shiloh's back. They don't speak. They don't have to.

In a lot of ways, Beth had been the only mom that Shiloh had ever had. Evelyn died when she was a baby, and try as he might, John didn't have it in him to raise a little girl. And Beth, well, Beth was a piece of work, and she was hard as hell on Shiloh; but she'd also taught her how to be a woman of power, a woman of resilience, and a woman of strength. And in those rare moments when Beth was soft with her, Shiloh could feel that her sister loved her.

"You gotta get out, Shi. We have that charity ball tonight, and you have to go. Daddy's counting on it," Beth speaks nearly an hour later. Shiloh snorts.

"I don't really think now's the time for a ball." Beth narrows her eyes at her younger sibling.

"Maybe not, but you're going anyway. Get dried off and try to do something with those curls. I'll find you something to wear."

Every year a charity ball was held to benefit the hospital, and every year, John Dutton made it a point to be one of the top contributors.

...

An hour later, Shiloh rubs her lips together, evening out her red lipstick, and makes her way downstairs. She is in a body-hugging, emerald cowl neck gown with an open back and black pumps. Her curly hair is pulled back on one side by a silver and pearl comb, and she has on smokey makeup. She's as ready as she can get, and as she steps outside to wait for her father, she hears a wolf-whistle. She smiles, looking up to see Rip leaning against the barn.

"Oh, shut up, Wheeler," she sasses, blush filling her cheeks.

"You look nice, Shi." Truth was, to Rip Wheeler, Shiloh was the most beautiful girl in the world any day, but on nights like this one, she was a goddess. Her thick thighs and tight ass accentuated by the green silk. Her full lips blood red. Yeah, she was gorgeous.

"Thanks, Rip," she replies softly. When John comes out, Rip opens the limo door for her, taking her hand as she enters the car and giving her one of those panty-dropping smiles as she pulls away.

...

The room is crowded. It always is. And Shiloh hates it. Why can't people just stay home? Still, she pastes on a smile, takes her Papa's arm, and enters the large marble lined hall.

"Shi, there's someone here I want you to meet. And I want you to be sweet," John whispers, leading her through the crowd. She looks up at her father, frowning.

"I'm always sweet." John huffs a laugh.

"This is important, Kiddo. I mean it." She nods. John doesn't usually ask her for things like this, so she knows it must be serious. "Rick!" the elder Dutton calls with a boom as them reach the ballroom. A man, around John's age, but in much worse shape, looks over at them. He nods to another man; this one young, maybe early 30s, and devilishly handsome, and the two make their way over.

"Rick, this is my babygirl, Shiloh. Shiloh, this is Rick Remington and his boy, Emmett," John introduces, shaking Rick's hand.

"Nice to meet you both," Shiloh states. Emmett takes her hand, kissing the back of it.

"Pleasure is all mine, Ms. Dutton," he drawls, a thick Texas accent heavy in the words. Shiloh contains her snort, barely. It is going to be a long night.