Page 2 of Rusty

"Easy, girl, easy," he said urgently, trying to regain control of the situation. His heart raced with adrenaline, and he knew he needed to tread carefully to avoid spooking her further. "Didn't mean to scare ya," Rusty whispered, watching as she slowly lowered herself back to the ground, her breaths coming in short, shallow pants. "We'll take it slow, alright? Slower than slow."

As he uttered those words, Rusty felt a pang of sympathy for the frightened mare. He knew he'd have to be patient and give her the time she needed to heal.

Same way he'd needed time all those years ago.

"Time and patience," he repeated to himself, watching as Snickers' trembling began to subside. "That's what it'll take.” He paused. “How about you and I just have a chat at a distance, then? Might be a bit unusual for you to speak to a human, but we don't bite.”

Snickers stopped whinnying and kept her eyes locked on him.

“Atta girl,” said Rusty soothingly. “Now, tell me, how do you like the new pasture?”

"Rusty!" The deep, familiar voice of Chuck North rang out.

Rusty turned, a crease forming on his forehead as he took in the sight of Chuck's flushed face and disheveled appearance.

Chuck was a burly man, a few years younger than Rusty, with a shock of blond hair peeking out from under his well-worn cowboy hat. He wore faded jeans, a plaid shirt, and scuffed boots, the uniform of a man who spent his days working under the Montana sun.

"Chuck," Rusty acknowledged with a nod, trying to hide his annoyance at the interruption. "I'm just getting to know our newest resident. Hope this is important."

"Sorry to intrude, but it is," Chuck said, catching his breath. "Got a call first thing this morning from someone you know. Thought you'd want to hear about it."

Rusty's curiosity was immediately piqued. He eyed Chuck warily, wondering who could have possibly contacted him. "Who?" he asked, his tone cautious. “Wait a minute. Hold that thought. Let’s go chat under that oak. Don’t wanna speak too close to Snickers or she’ll get spooked.”

“How’s she settling in?” Chuck asked as they made their way to the old tree.

“It’s early days,” Rusty replied. “And she's in a bad way. Hard to believe that a rancher treated her so badly. Had to be a fucking sociopath. Still, I’m positive I can help her. Seen horses in worse states than her before—but not much worse. She’ll need a lot of care and attention. And quiet. We should keep the Littles away from her for a while at least. Any loud noises could set her off.”

Chuck nodded. “I trust you to do what’s best, Rusty.”

Once they had reached a secluded spot beneath the sprawling branches of an old oak tree, Chuck turned to face Rusty.The seriousness in his eyes made Rusty's heart pound with anticipation. He braced himself for whatever news Chuck had to deliver.

"Alright, I'm listenin'," Rusty said, trying to keep his voice steady.

"Okay," Chuck sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It was Janice who called. Janice Jameson."

Rusty felt as if the earth had suddenly shifted beneath him. The mention of that name sent a torrent of emotions flooding through him: surprise, longing, and a deep, aching sadness that he hadn't allowed himself to feel in years.

"Janice?" he whispered, barely able to say her name.

Rusty and Janice had been high school sweethearts, their love fierce and wild as all young love is. They'd planned on getting married, starting a family, and growing old together on a ranch somewhere. Over time, Janice and Rusty had fallen comfortably into the roles of Daddy and Little. It had felt like they were soulmates.

But then, everything had changed in the blink of an eye.

They parted ways, their dreams shattered, and Rusty had tried to throw himself into work to mend his broken heart. It had been nearly a decade since he'd last seen her.

"Yep," Chuck confirmed, his expression sympathetic. "She asked if she could come stay at the ranch for a while. Said she needed sanctuary."

"Sanctuary?" Rusty repeated, a feeling of great sorrow washing over him. A big part of him yearned to see her again and help her through whatever difficulties she was facing. But another part, an equally big part, feared it could be impossible to be near her without reopening old wounds for the both of them.

"Yeah," Chuck nodded solemnly.

“She in some kind of trouble?” Rusty asked, knowing that it was probably a bad idea to ask and get involved.

“She didn’t say. But she sounded pretty desperate.”

Chuck was a big-hearted man. The ranch at Littlecreek was home to lots of Littles who needed refuge from abusive partners or complex situations, and they all thrived here under the guidance of a group of firm but fair Daddy Doms.

Janice would love a place like this. If it weren't for Rusty.

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