Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
The scent of hay and horses wrapped around Danny like a warm, dusty blanket as he crouched behind a stacked bale. His knees were starting to ache, and a bit of straw had worked its way under his waistband—at least he hoped it was straw and not some creepy crawler—but he didn’t dare move.
Beside him, Blake was practically vibrating with held-in giggles.
On the other side of the stall, Sadie was whispering something to Georgie and Lori.
They were too far for Danny to catch the words, but it earned a snort and a barely-muffled snicker from the usually stoic Little and snorts from Blake’s little sister.
The sound bounced off the wooden walls, louder than it had any right to be.
Danny sucked in a breath and listened for footsteps.
Nothing yet.
They were still safe.
Probably.
Maybe.
His stomach gave a queasy twist. Not the fun kind of nervous, not the butterflies-before-a-surprise sort. This one felt low and heavy and too close to dread.
They’d gone too far. He knew it now.
“Do you think… we’re in real trouble?” he whispered to Blake. His voice reached barely above the rustle of hay.
Blake hesitated. “Not… real trouble. Just… you know. Trouble.”
Sadie popped her head up from behind the feed barrels. “Maybe we shouldn’t have put the sticker on my Daddy’s door.”
“Ya think?” Georgie grumbled.
Danny curled in a little tighter. The tension had crept in slowly. At first, they’d been proud and giddy with the thrill of getting away with it. But the longer the silence stretched, the more their excitement curdled into guilt.
“Maybe we should’ve stopped after the vending machine,” he offered.
“Or the handrail,” Blake added with a wince.
Sadie flopped down next to Danny, arms folded tight over her chest. “We were just having fun.”
“I know.” Danny pushed his shoulder against her. “But… what if it’s the kind of fun that makes the grown-ups think we can’t be trusted?”
No one answered.
A horse snorted in a nearby stall, and a bird chirped from the rafters.
Danny’s throat felt dry. His mind was already racing. He could picture Master Derek’s stern face, Dr. Sam’s disappointed sigh, and Easton’s voice going quiet and cold.
What if they’re mad?
What if they think I’m a bad influence?
What if this ruins everything?
Keeping his shoulder against Sadie’s, he hugged his knees to his chest and tried not to look as panicked as he felt.
If anyone had asked, he would’ve called it a harmless prank.
Silly stickers and some giggles. But now, with nothing but shadows and second thoughts for company, it didn’t feel harmless anymore.
It felt like waiting for the axe to fall.
Danny froze as he heard footsteps approach. Sadie stiffened beside him, the last giggle dying in her throat like a balloon popped mid-air.
They didn’t even need to look. The click of boots on the stable floor, the way the horses stilled, the change in air pressure. It all shouted one thing: They’d been found.
Danny peeked around the edge of the haystack. Three men stood in the wide aisle between stalls, shoulder to shoulder like a judgment wall.
Master Derek stood in the center. His face was unreadable and his posture straight. He looked sharp as a sword.
Daddy Easton stood to his right. His lips were pressed tight, and he scanned the shadows with his eyes like he knew they were here.
Dr. Sam on the left of the group, stood with his arms crossed. He looked... amused. Mostly.
Danny slapped his hand over his mouth.
Horse shit and beetle dung.
He swallowed hard. They’d messed up.
“Who started this?” Derek’s voice cracked across the space like a whip.
Sadie scrambled up first, hay clinging to her skirt and fleece leggings. “Uhm. I did. Kinda.” Her hands slid behind her back as she peeked at her Daddy from under her lashes.
Danny’s chest burned. That wasn’t right. She was trying to shield them.
“No. No.” He pushed himself forward from his hiding spot. His hands trembled so he took a leaf out of Sadie’s book and folded his hands behind his back. “We all did. We were having fun and throwing out ideas for the stickers. It wasn’t just her.”
Danny looked to his left as he spotted movement. Georgie edged out of the shadows. “And I made the drawings.”
Blake and Lori emerged last. “And I helped too. Really, Master Derek. It isn’t just Sadie’s fault, we all did it.”
“Uh-huh. Me too, but I was the lastest and did the littlest,” murmured Lori.
There was silence. It was heavy, dusty, and almost sacred silence. And it seemed to stretch out for minutes. Then Derek pointed to a low bale behind them.
“I want all of you to sit there but pull your pants and underwear down first. You’ll be sitting bare assed while you listen to me.”
Danny’s stomach flipped. But he obeyed, face burning, fingers clumsy as he pushed clothing past his hips and sat bare bottomed on the scratchy hay. The others followed, subdued and quiet.
“You should think before acting.” Derek stepped forward and paced back and forth in front of them. “Sadie and I have been working on that exact skill.”
Sadie sniffled and ducked her head. A tear slipped down her cheek, and Danny’s heart cracked.
No, no, no. Don’t cry.
His own eyes burned. “She was trying to stop us,” he blurted. “Earlier, she hesitated. We egged her on.”
Derek’s mouth tightened, but he didn’t look away from Sadie. “You don’t get to protect them by lying, little one.”
“You’re right, Daddy,” Sadie whispered. “I let you down.”
He crouched in front of her, large hands resting on his thighs, his tone softer now but no less firm. “You know I love your wild heart. I love your spark, your creativity, the way your brain hops from one fun idea to the next like a bunny on a sugar rush.”
Sadie sniffled and peeked up through her lashes.
“But that fire comes with responsibility. You can’t just set the world alight because it feels exciting in the moment. What happens if someone slips on one of those stickers? Or a visitor sees one and feels unwelcome?”
She bit her lip.
“I need to know you’re learning to pause. That you can pause. Even when your Little brain is bouncing all over the place. Did you pause today before you put that sticker on my door?”
“No, Daddy.”
“Did you think about how it might be taken by someone else? Or how I might feel about it?”
“No, Daddy. I just thought it was funny. And everyone was laughing.”
“Well, in that case.” His voice sharpened another fraction, “you didn’t just let me down. You let yourself down. And you need a punishment to help you remember what happens when fun takes over judgment.”
Her face crumpled, tears brimming again.
Sam stepped closer, kneeling until he was at eye level with them all. “Look, I know it started as fun. But actions have consequences. The goal isn’t just to punish you. It’s to help you understand that boundaries matter. Even in play.”
Easton’s gaze flicked toward Danny. “Did any of you stop to think? What if someone new saw one and got the wrong idea about the Ranch?”
Danny’s mouth opened. Then closed again.
He hadn’t thought about that. None of them had.
Sam continued, his voice gentler now. “Sometimes helping someone have fun means knowing when to stop. And sometimes, when you don’t stop, your friends get caught in the fallout.”
Derek folded his arms and gave them a long, level look. “Since you’re already seated, you’re going to stay that way. No talking. No fidgeting. Fifteen minutes. I want you to think about your actions.”
He tapped the crown on his Apple Watch and spoke clearly. “Start timer for fifteen minutes.”
Siri replied, “Fifteen minutes. Counting down.”
The hay had been scratchy before, but with no giggles, no whispering, and no movement to distract Danny from his miserable thoughts, it became torture. A sharp stalk was poking his perineum, and he tried to shift his weight ever so slightly.
“Stop timer.”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“Danny, did you just move?”
He hung his head. “Yes, Sir.”
“Set timer for fifteen minutes.”
Danny closed his eyes as Siri confirmed the restart. He desperately wanted to apologize. Not just to Master Derek, but to Sadie, Georgie, Blake, and Lori too. But his lips had to stay sealed. So, he screamed it in his head instead.
I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry. Please hear me. Please.
The barn door creaked open, letting in a hush of voices. He didn’t look. Didn’t even blink. It didn’t matter who it was. Maybe one of the stable hands. Whoever it was, they were muttering low and serious, and Danny’s stomach curled tighter.
A stall door groaned on its hinges. Then came a rhythmic clip-clop of hooves across the packed dirt.
The horse passed so close that Danny caught the warm scent of hay-dusted fur and leather.
Another gust of wind rushed through the barn, and icy air swept beneath him, straight up between his legs like nature itself was punishing him.
He clenched every muscle to keep from shivering.
The minutes dragged. The weight of silence pressed on his shoulders heavier than any punishment. All he could hear was breathing and the occasional impatient flick of a horse’s tail.
Then, at long last, Derek’s watch chimed.
“You can stand now and decide. Will you be writing lines or do you prefer to get fifty strokes with my paddle?”
“Fifty?” Georgie’s voice cracked. “I’ll do lines.”
“We messed up,” Danny whispered. “We know that.”
Easton crouched beside him. “And what are you going to do to make it right?”
Danny looked at the others. Blake was staring at his toes. Georgie looked like she wanted to disappear. Sadie was wiping her eyes on her sleeve.
“I want to write lines,” Danny said. “Real ones. Not fast scribbles. I’ll do a bunch if it helps. And we can take the stickers down ourselves.”
“I’ll help,” Georgie said immediately. “We’ll take down every single one.”
Blake nodded. “Me too.”
“Lines, huh?” Derek asked, folding his arms. “Even if it’s going to be a long one, and you’ll have to do ten for every sticker you made?”
Danny widened his eyes and trying to remember how many stickers they’d made, he said, “We got carried away. It was a group thing, not just one person. So, the punishment should be shared. Just... don’t take away the stuff that helps us feel safe.”
“We can do other stuff, too,” Georgie added. “Like... I don’t know, corner time?
Easton smiled slightly. “We’ll come up with something. Something fair.”
“And boring,” Sam added.
“Oh no.”
Easton had to admit it was pretty amazing how much weight two simple words had when emphasized by a loud, long groan chorused in unison by the five Littles.
Danny grimaced as the Daddies finalized their decision. They might not get spanked this time, but the consequence might be worse.
Lines.
The long kind. The reflective kind. The ones that made your wrist cramp and your brain itch.
Fifteen minutes later, they were seated at one of the large wooden tables in the cafeteria-turned-temporary-detention room. Georgie’s Daddy, Lucas, and the other Daddies were scrubbing glitter from grout and peeling rogue sparkles off signage and their Littles’ punishment was just beginning.
“Eyes down. Pens moving,” Nurse MacIntosh instructed from her post by the coffee machine, her tone brisk but not unkind. “And no sighing louder than a three on the Dramatic Scale.”
Danny sat in the middle, hunched over the page, chewing the inside of his cheek. His fingers already ached, and he was only halfway through the first page filled with the sentence:
I understand that what seems funny to me might be offensive, disruptive, or even frightening to others, and I will think carefully about consequences before taking action because every person at Rawhide deserves to feel safe, respected, and valued.
He was half tempted to add “even if they have no sense of humor” by his own accord but it was probably better to refrain from being a smart-ass, if he didn’t want his ass to smart.
“I’m going to die,” Sadie whispered from his left, her head resting dramatically on her forearm. “We should have taken the paddle.”
Danny’s eyes widened. “You’re a serious masochist, girl, the rest of us nuh-uh.”
“I know,” she grumbled. “But this is too long. I’m filing a formal complaint.”
“Filed and rejected,” Nurse MacIntosh replied, not even looking up from her mug.
Blake scribbled furiously beside Danny, his letters getting increasingly lopsided. “Do you think if I write it faster, it counts double?”
“Nope,” Beverly said sweetly.
On the far end, Lori added a personal flair to her copy, murmuring aloud as she wrote.
“Lori,” her Mommy warned.
“I’m adding sincerity,” she said defensively. “It’s called emotional resonance.”
Danny stifled a laugh, then cursed as he smudged his line with the side of his hand.
“Ugh, it’s turning into a manifesto,” Blake grunted.
Sadie lifted her head just enough to glare. “I want my lawyer.”
“Isn’t he one of your Daddy’s best friends?” Danny muttered.
“Then I want my Daddy.”
“You married him.”
She sighed. “This is why I should’ve stayed single.”
The room fell into a rhythm of scratching pens, quiet groans, and Lori’s occasional humming. Outside, the Ranch continued on but inside, the sticker squad was being reformed, one line at a time.
Right?