Ranch Hand

Going to the ranch

The blonde glanced around the corners as the sirens passed him. He let out a heavy sigh and held the black bag close. He walked through the alley, long confident strides as he stepped into the evening light.

He stepped into a small shop, looking for more small snacks he could pick up. He glanced at the cashier, a old man holding a cigarette. He smiled and grabbed a few granola bars and small bags of chips. He stuffed them into his bag and zipped it up. He started out the door before the man called out to him. "Hey! You gotta pay for that!" He shouted as the blonde froze.
Vance bolted out and through the crowd. Weaving between people as the man behind him yelled.
He yelped as someone grabbed his shoulders tightly. He pulled away and bumped into someone and fell to the ground. He looked up.

Officer Hopkins. "Shit." He cursed.

He sat in the itchy blue chair. The officer in front of him sighed and dialed the number he had dialed a million times before.

"Your not gonna find him." Vance laughed. "He's gone. He's been gone." Vance crossed his arm over his chest as he watched someone go through his backpack.

"Gone? What do you mean 'gone'?" The officer spoke, pulling the phone away from his face.
"I mean gone. Disappeared. Hit the road. Not at home. However the fuck you want to put it." Vance rolled his eyes.

"So you've been living on your own? For how long." The officer asked as he scrambled to grab a pen and notepad.
"Like hell I'd tell you." He didn't even know why he had told him in the first place, all it did was cause more problems for them.

"Well, looks like your going to have to stay here for a while." The man sighed and stood up.

Cold panic rose in his chest and pumped through his veins, spreading through this body. "Stay? I can't stay! I have things to do!" Vance shouted, sitting up in the chair.
"Listen kid, it's only for a few days. Then we'll decide what to do with you." The man sighed and walked away, ignoring the protest from the blonde.

They put him in a cell, alone. Vance had heard them say something along the lines of, 'He's to dangerous to be with anyone.' He was fine with it though. He hated most people, and most people hated him. That or they were scarred of him. Which he also understood. Who wouldn't be afraid of him? A 16 year old boy with a huge criminal record and a long history of violence, plus the strength to back it up.

He scoffed and sat on the stiff mattress. His wrists hurt from the cuffs and he was getting tired of the hollering coming from the other cells.

A few days turned into a month. He stayed in his cell most the time. The one time they had let him out to the yard he had started a fight, broke the kids nose and burned him with a cigarette. He didn't regret it. All he had really gotten out of it was a black eye, bloody nose, and bruised knuckles.

"Kid, wake up." He heard the man speak. He turned over to see officer Hopkins. "You're going somewhere." He spoke as he pulled the cuffs off his belt.
Vance sighed and put his wrists in front of him, rolling his eyes in annoyance. "So what are y'all gonna do with me this time? Throw me back onto the streets? Or did you maybe get ahold of my dad?" He said with a sarcastic perkiness. "No. Unfortunately. But we did decide what to do with you." Hopkins said. Vance wasn't allowed to go to court anymore. He always got angry and started shouting, so now he just had to meet with a lawyer and then the lawyer would go to court and an officer would bring the news back to him.

"And that is?" The blonde asked. "We're transferring you. We've decided that you're going to work off your punishment for the summer, or until your dad is found." Vance looked at the man, shocked.

"You can't do that! Can you? Don't you need, like, permission or whatever?"

Vance had never been outside his city. He didnt want to go outside his city anyways. He had plenty of people and things to do in Denver. And he sure as hell didn't want to go work for three months.