My handsome cowboy

Chapter 7

Oh boy, you were in trouble - the understatement of the century.

And not in the way you had hoped.

No.

Definitely not.

Pain shot through your left leg and made you stumble but despite it all you clung to the hope that John would get to you in time. You had no idea how far you were from the ranch, but it was definitely too far for you to reach the safety of your home as pain shot through your leg as you tried to put your weight on it. But you would try anyway, no matter what, because you wouldn't give up without a fight after you finally found what you've been looking for your whole life. But when something hit you from behind and brought you down hard, you knew your chances of success had dropped significantly, but at least you knew it wasn't for nothing and that you were going to put up one hell of a fight.

Just minutes earlier, you'd been riding your motocross bike across the fields on your way home with the last rays of light - and why you called the Dutton ranch your home and not your own apartment in town you might wanna think about - when you had noticed an unfamiliar truck not too far from the ranch. A truck wouldn't normally have made you suspicious, but as it hadn't been parked on the street but hidden from the street view among the trees, you couldn't help but wonder if it could all have been a coincidence after the reduction in security measures.

Oh, you couldn't believe you were seriously wishing for the sheriff's officers to be back.

Finally the militia had been crushed.

Finally there should be peace again.

And now you were paranoid about a van.

And because the cowboys were in town.

And the Duttons were home alone.

And before you could have thought long and hard about it, you had already acted. Because even if you hadn't known the man who had been moving towards the truck, you certainly knew the boy he had been dragging with him. The boy who had tried to defend himself tooth and nail against a man twice his size. And before you could have thought about it, you had already raced towards them both. A plan would certainly have been beneficial, but you had known every second had been at stake before that stranger would have locked Tate in the truck and would have disappeared forever.

Luck.

Fate.

Or whatever you wanted to call it, had been on your side.

You had no idea how you had managed to knock the man over - and in the process yourself. But even though it had hurt like hell to crash into that mammoth of a man, it had resulted in Tate breaking free of his grip, and somehow you'd managed to get Tate onto your motocross bike with the order to get help, before the man had grabbed you.

Trading place with Tate had been a no brainer.

Although you had been hoping to escape with Tate.

But this giant of a man had grabbed you before you both had a chance to escape. And so you had fought a man twice your size - hitting, kicking, biting. You'd taken a hit or two, but somehow you'd managed to get away from him, and were now running as fast as you could, desperately hoping he wouldn't be able to run as fast as you.

And you were definitely faster than him, but you didn't expect him to shoot at you. And as pain shot through your left leg and made you stumble, you knew your only hope was that Tate got to John fast enough. But you wouldn't go down without a fight, even as something hit you from behind and brought you down hard.

Or rather someone.

Being crushed under a man twice your size made you panic but when he wrapped his hands around your neck and started squeezing, real terror set in. You tried to hit him, to scratch him, to get him off of you somehow. But nothing worked. And as dark spots started dancing in front of your eyes, you knew you wouldn't be able to get rid of him.

You were never a coward, always wanted to look death straight in the eye. But as you closed your eyes, you prayed that life would flash before your eyes - the family and cowboys you found on this ranch, your beloved John - because you certainly wouldn't want to die with that ugly visage right in front of you.

But your prayer was not answered.

Because life didn't flash before your eyes.

Because the part of you that wasn't covered by that mammoth of a man got hit with drops - namely your face.

And when did it start raining?

And why were you so easily distracted by something as insignificant as rain when you could have pictured your beloved John in the final moments of your life instead?

It all felt so surreal as the weight was lifted off you and you could breathe again.

As, over the roaring in your ears, you heard a voice calling out to you.

As you were picked up and cradled.

As you felt safe in the embrace of warmth and homecoming.

As you smelt wide meadows and forests - and so much more.

"And why is God smelling like John Dutton?"

And why did God laugh at you? Gosh, he had a beautiful laugh.

And although it took a sheer endless effort to open your eyes, you managed to let them flutter open.

Only to realize you were in your own kind of heaven, in the arms of the man you loved with all your heart, who had somehow managed to get to you in time to save you.