Page 13 of Whiskey and Wildfire

I stomped through the tall grass, my vision blurred by unshed tears. The cool night air whipped against my face, but it did little to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me. I had no destination in mind, just an overwhelming need to get away from Beau and everyone else.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, I collapsed onto the ground, my legs giving out beneath me. The grass tickled my face as I lay there, staring up at the star-filled sky. Out here, away from the lights of the camp, the Milky Way stretched across the heavens like a river of diamonds. It would’ve been beautiful if I didn’t feel so shitty.

I don’t know how long I stayed there, letting the tears silently fall. Eventually, I heard the soft crunch of footsteps approaching. My body tensed, ready to lash out if it was Beau again.

“You okay?” a deep voice rumbled.

It was definitely not Beau. I froze, my breath catching in my throat. That voice... I’d know it anywhere, even though I’d barely heard it speak more than a few words. Dakota.

Slowly, I pushed myself up to a sitting position, hastily wiping at my eyes with the back of my hand. “I’m fine,” I muttered, not daring to look at him.

There was a long pause, then the sound of fabric rustling as Dakota lowered himself to the ground beside me. Not too close, but close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his body.

“Doesn’t look like it,” he said softly.

I let out a bitter laugh. “What do you care?”

Another pause. “I heard you yellin’ at Beau,” he admitted. “Thought maybe you could use someone to talk to.”

“And you volunteered?” I couldn’t keep the sarcastic tone out of my voice. “You barely talk to begin with.”

He nodded slowly, staring out over the plain. “Yeah. You’re right about that I suppose.”

I glanced over at Dakota, surprised by his candid admission. His profile was illuminated by the moonlight, his strong jaw and aquiline nose casting shadows across his face. He looked almost ethereal, like some ancient spirit of the prairie.

“I’m not much for talkin’,” he continued, his voice low and gravelly. “But I’m a good listener, if you want.”

I let out a long sigh, running a hand through my hair. “I don’t even know where to start.”

Dakota shrugged. “Start wherever you want. Or don’t start at all. Up to you.”

His calm demeanor was oddly soothing. I found myself relaxing despite my earlier outburst.

“I just... I feel so out of place here,” I admitted. “Like I don’t belong anywhere anymore. Not in the city, not here in Sagebrush.”

“You know, I get it. Feeling like an outsider, I mean.”

I turned to face him fully. “Yeah… I’ve seen how some of the people in Sagebrush treat you. It ain’t right.”

He nodded, his dark eyes meeting mine. “They don’t bother me much. But back on the reservation, I never fit in. Didn’t want to follow all the old traditions and my father… well, let’s just say he wasn’t very happy to have a son like me.”

I found myself leaning in, drawn by the rare glimpse into Dakota’s past. “What do you mean, a son like you?”

Dakota’s gaze dropped to the ground, his fingers absently plucking at blades of grass. “I didn’t want to be what they expected. To stay on the reservation, marry a nice Cherokee girl, have a bunch of kids. Follow in my father’s footsteps and become the town drunk.” He paused, his voice barely above a whisper. “I wanted more. And... I knew I’d never be happy with a woman.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? I held my breath, afraid to break the moment.

“So I left,” Dakota continued. “Came out here to make my own way. But sometimes I still feel caught between two worlds. Not really belonging to either.”

“I had no idea,” I murmured.

Dakota shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “Not many people do. I don’t usually talk about it. And not many bother to ask.”

We sat in silence for a few moments, the weight of his words hanging between us. I felt a strange mix of emotions - surprise at his openness, sympathy for his struggles, and a growing warmth in my chest at the realization that we had more in common than I’d thought.

“Thank you,” I said softly. “For sharing that with me. And for coming to check on me.”

He finally looked up, meeting my gaze. The moonlight caught in his dark eyes, making them shine. “Anytime,” he murmured.

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