Oneshots - Kayce Dutton Book 2

Why do you care?

Request - Tate ran off at the fair when he was younger and a woman helps the yellowstone find him.

You notice a large group all stand up in a hurry from their table. They were hard to miss, each of them wearing something with the Yellowstone brand on it. Walking over to the trash cans, you threw away the drink cup you had. 

As a high school teacher, this was the last field trip you had for the year. The county fair was something everyone went to if they were able and this year you had raised enough funds to take your whole class for an evening. They were all off either riding the rides or listening to the bands play. 

It was your fifth year of teaching, but your first year here in western Montana. It had been a good year though, and you had recently signed your contract for the next year. One of your students came up to you.

"Hey, Miss. Y/N," He smield. 

"Hey Jeremy," You wiped your hands on your jeans. "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," His eyes caught the crowd that was now dispersing. "What's going on?"

"Not sure," You eyed the group. 

"A little boy is missing," A man came up next to you. "About eight, brown hair...seen him?"

"Oh no," You glanced around. "I haven't, but I have twenty-two sixteen-year-olds that can help look."

"Need all the help we can get, ma'am," The man nodded. 

"Jeremy," You looked back at your student. 

"I'll text everyone," He smiled. 

"Thank you," You looked back. "Where was the last place he was seen?" 

You and your class helped search for the missing boy, Tate, for about thirty minutes. Running all over the fairgrounds was difficult because of how spread out everything was. You learned he was Tate Dutton, the grandson of John Dutton who owned the Yellowstone Ranch, the largest in the state. 

You were walking by the Ferris wheel with a few of your students. After turning a corner you stopped, noticing the toes of two small boots poking out from under the curtain around the back of the machines. Walking over you stopped short and bent down, hugging your knees. 

Reaching forward, you held onto the curtain end and pulled up. There was a small boy, probably around eight, with dark hair and sad eyes. 

"Tate?" You asked gently. 

The little boy nodded. You sighed and moved to sit on your butt. 

"You've got a lot of people looking for you, do you know that?" You asked him, not wanting to scare him off and run away. 

"They don't care," Tate mumbled. "Who are you?"

"I'm Y/N," You smiled. 

"Oh," Tate sighed. 

"Why wouldn't they care?" You asked. "Your parents are probably worried sick."

"They're too busy getting divorced to worry about me," Tate frowned. 

"Oh..." You cleared your throat. "Your parents...I'm sorry, Tate." 

"Why do you care?" Tate asked. 

He was angry, that much you could tell. But if you had to guess it stemmed from being upset and scared. 

"Well, maybe I care because my parents got divorced too?" You shrugged. "I was five though."

"Really?" Tate looked up at you.

"Mmhmm," You nodded. "And it didn't feel good...it took a while to feel better, but eventually I did."