This was the very first page (open:)

[Baylyn Fort]

Baylyn stood staring at the small town, her guitar case slung over her shoulder and duffel bag dumped on the ground. Funny how life turns out; her mother was the reason she packed up and left the small town that she had come from and moved to a city to put an ‘end’ to her ‘past’ as she had put it. And yet here she was, 3 years later in the same situation that she was before; only law and enforcement had put her here, not family. Wiping her hands over her tired eyes she picked up her bag from the snow covered ground; the transport could only take you so far, apparently. A harsh breeze cut through the street, swirling her hair around in a mist as she tried to get her bearings. The driver had told her that Silver Stag Ranch was an hour from town, and she didn’t ask whether that was walking or driving. She was lucky enough that the shuttle driver from the airport gave her a ride to the town, for a fee of course; but he wouldn’t take her any further ‘not for me darllin’ ask in town about the place you’re looking for’. Crossing her arms in front of her chest she hugged the warmth to herself.

After she had left the shuttle she went to find a street directory, in the midst of it she ran into a store owner, showing him the address he pointed her in the right direction. Bay would rather be anywhere else than here; leaving the heat of home to come to this snow blasted place; it reminded her of her father. Guilt wrenched her heart as she ploughed through the snow on the side of the road, her hood covering her ears and making a poor effort to keep her face snow free. Her plane had been delayed for 3 hours at the airport, adding on to the 14 hour flight from Australia, it was like a heated hotel room full of other people wanting the air hostess’s attention and to check out. She was missing the airport badly. Wishing for that instead of the gale force sweeping winds that was now rebounding off the road; hearing tires on the road behind her she turned to see a car pulling up alongside her, the driver turned and wound the window down ‘need a lift?’ Bay looked the driver over, the decision was to hitch a ride or brave the chill. Funnily, the last thing her mother said to her was to ‘get better soon.’ Not knowing whether or not her mother had given up on trying to ‘fix’ her and was shoving it off on to some other poor soul, or whether she was never really right in the first place. Offering over the piece of paper with the instructions, she knew it was a weak notion to get back at her mother for sending her this way, and although she thought it would; it didn’t make her feel any better about the situation.

After awhile the stranger gave up trying to engage her in conversation, unlike most silences Bay found this a pleasant one, before she knew it the battered car had pulled up at the front of a drive way ‘here’s your stop’ Bay looked out the window for a troubling moment, knowing full well she had nowhere else to go. After receiving her belongings she gave a jerky flick of the hand, it was a failed wave but the driver smiled at her before disappearing with his car down the road. Baylyn stood looking at the ranch, her eyes gauzed over, this was not permanent she felt the need to remind herself. She started to make her slow decent down the driveway, she was about 4 hours late. Although they had expected delay before they had taken off; so she was hoping this was no surprise. The smell of horses and animals hit her harshly, making her gut churn as she turned away to look at the snow covered paddocks, this place felt more like a prison then a refuge, more like home than anywhere else.

Her arms encircled her sides as they rubbed over her permanent scars through her parka, running from the top of her shoulder down the long side of her stomach finishing at her hip, she was left with an everyday reminder how life liked to stab people in the back when they least suspected it, by the people who you trusted the most; so the lesson she had learnt was it is easier not to expect anything from anyone. Watching mist swirl around her feet as she kicked up little puffs of snow that had settled on the driveway, Baylyn kept her eyes trained on the ground and chewing on her bottom lip. Tightening her grip on her duffel bag before moving her shoulders to readjust her guitar, it was one of the few belongings she wanted to bring on this trip with her. Although looking at the thing caused her nothing more than pain, she couldn’t think of her daily routine without it. Running her hands through her hair in an attempt to push it out of her way she sighed before bringing her shoulders up and closing the walls off around her, this place would not get to her. Baylyn smoothed her face over, to what her mother called her ‘poker face’, this was just like when she left her father for the first time. History has a funny way of repeating itself.

[Wyatt Parker]

Word Count: 1298
Status: Complete
Lyrics: Fear Of Flying by A Rocket To The Moon

Wyatt had the lunge whip in hand and kept in close in hand as the young appaloosa began to slow. He was on the other end of the lunge line and was slowing in his trot as he lowered his head. Wyatt gave the correct call and urged Ace on with the whip end hanging out behind him.

Trot.

He clicked his tongue and Ace picked up the pace. Ace was a two year old Appaloosa-Mustang mix. The only sign of his appaloosa heritage was the spots on his white socks. Otherwise he had the body of a bay. The young gelding rounded his neck and his body followed en suite.

Good boy, Ace.

Wyatt praised his young horse. They had spent the last few days doing sessions just like this on the lunging line. It was a good way to ensure the gelding learned obedience as well as muscle tone. If Ace was going to be a ranch horse he would need more muscle tone and he wasn't going to get the amount he needed from his short runs in the paddock. Wyatt hadn't yet introduced his horse to the bridle or the saddle because he was still too young for either. That would only come next year or the year after. Wyatt didn't push his horses and he had plenty as was. Having Ace would be a bonus. The young horse was showing potential as a cattle horse from the times that Wyatt had seen him cut through the small herd in his separate paddock and also herd them. None of the older horses appreciated his instinct and would often foil his attempts, but it was practice nonetheless. Ace snorted and blew out his cloudy breath.

Wyatt himself was wearing his father's old winter coat. It was a beige colour and looked well worn. Otherwise he was wearing his jeans, oak-coloured boots and old stetson. He looked at ease as he held the lunge and turned circles, watching his horse go around and around.

Canter.

He urged him on and Ace rushed forwards in the trot, eventually picking up his canter. It wasn't the smoothest transition but he would pick it up. He was doing well for his first few times.

I took a picture of a girl I once knew
I kept it here in case I'd run into you
The look on your face could light up a room
But instead you left And now I'm sitting with my head on the dashboard
Push the seat back and close my eyes
I had this dream that I was on an airplane
afraid to fly
So i tipped my head to the side and I whispered
to this man that was in the isle
I said "do you know how long it takes before we die?"
and then I rolled awake

Can you take me back to the person I used to be
Back when you were there for me
I know it seems like forever but do me a favor please
Way back when we were stupid
held grudges just to help us sleep
Oh my god, how ridiculous were we?

It was a little while later and Wyatt was standing with Ace alongside the fence. The young bay stood proud alongside Wyatt and absorbed all the praise. Wyatt was feeding him a few sugar cubes. This was a rare treat from the ranch owner because it was his wife who usually spoilt their horses rotten. Now here he was feeding one of his horse's sugar cubes. Wyatt grimaced at the thought and gave Ace a strong pat on his thick neck. Ace's ears flickered back and forth and he watched as Wyatt began to untack him. He was still curious about the surcingle and sniffed the piece of equipment as Wyatt hung it up on the fence. He then began to undo the lunge cavesson. He retrieved the red halter off of the fence and fixed it onto Ace's head, fastening it snugly and then tied the lead around the fence.

Wyatt picked up one of the body brushes and began to work the brush over Ace's body. The surcingle had worked loose a lot of hair out of Ace's winter coat and to prevent it from causing Ace any bother he removed it. The gelding stood quietly whilst Wyatt worked. He worked with precise movements and was taking his time with the horse. He had been expecting a member of the TTI programme to come through but had been informed that her flight was delayed. In turn that disrupted all of the time that he had set aside for her and he had had to rearrange his day in order to get everything done. It was just him and his two ranch hands that had the task of handling the ranch, so there was plenty of work to go around from day to day.

Wyatt had Baylyn's file sitting on the kitchen table along with the bills and various other papers. He had been sitting up the previous night looking through everything and studying her history. TTI supplied him with all of the information that he needed in order to take care of this girl that was coming through onto his ranch. Wyatt himself was a reserved man yet he was making space for these troubled teens to come through onto his ranch. It was his job to make sure that these kids got the attention they needed and that they worked with their horses, making progress and not suffering any further setbacks.

Wyatt had just about finished on Ace's coat when the car came into view. It was further down the road and still coming up to the drive. It gave Wyatt a heads up and he left the body brush alongside the tack that he had hung up on the fence.

C'mon.

Wyatt led Ace out of the round pen and headed towards one of the paddocks. He had separated him from his dam, Martha, who had recently suffering an injured leg. Despite that he was two years old Ace somtimes still clung to his mother's side or bothered her and the mare was having none of it. The separation would ease any tension and give Martha some time to get herself better. Wyatt led Ace through the gate and removed his halter, keeping him away from the gate until he was able to slip through himself and do up the latch. He left the halter alongside a few others and began the walk towards the ranch house. He lived there with his wife and child, and two dogs. The bunker had more occupants than it had had for a while. Sari, Carl, Billy, Finn, Clarity and now this new girl. He began to remove his working gloves and stuffed them into his pocket. The girl was standing with her things by the time Wyatt got anywhere near her. The car was heading back down and the driver waved in Wyatt's direction. He gave a short wave in response to the greeting and turned his eyes back towards the girl he presumed to be Baylyn. An australian too. Westin was receiving more foreigners every year.

'scuse me?

Wyatt spoke to the girl in order to get her attention.

Afternoon. You Baylyn?

His sentences were short but not rushed. He was standing at ease with one leg slightly bent and the other carrying more weight as he stood still. He was close enough to the girl without getting in her space, keeping it in mind because he sure as well wouldn't want anyone too close to him either. He was a pensive and often quiet man. Wyatt didn't share the town's need for gossip but that mean he put himself above it. He just really didn't give a damn about it. He had his ranch and that was all he needed. Now here was this young lady that he was allowing onto his ranch. After his brief separation from his wife Wyatt had felt the need to help other kids. Someone who needed guidance because his own was way off. In that way Wyatt was a good man. Everyone knew him to be just that and it was true. He genuinly wanted to help these kids and offer his help. He would let them take as long as they needed and he would be as patient as possible. But that didn't take discipline out of the equation and Wyatt didn't take crap. You worked. And you worked hard. He always warned that he wouldn't take slackers and he would make sure that Baylyn knew that too. Defiance or not, you earned your place.

[Baylyn Fort]

Crossing her arms in front of her chest Bay caught her bottom lip between her teeth, thinking of when May had snuck into her window the night before she was to fly out. ‘I seriously cannot believe you didn’t rat me out!’ before pulling her into a one armed hug. ‘I never thought befriending a certified mute would come of anything!’ Baylyn didn’t know that there was a certification to actually become a mute, nor that she was one. But she guessed it was May’s way of thanking her. Thanks did come in many way shapes and forms, her own silent thanks was that May left without her mother finding out, she didn’t need another reason for the woman to condemn her. That was the last time she guessed she would see May, after May had finished hugging her she had told her that when she got back they couldn’t ‘hang out’ anymore, it would be too risky for her, Baylyn didn’t show how much that comment had hurt her. But after awhile thinking on the subject she guessed it was human behavior, if the fire gets too hot you normally try to put it out before you got burned.

Baylyn’s eyes traveled to the person talking, blinking in response for a moment. She felt her muscles tighten as he walked closer; she was relieved that he kept his distance from her. Moving her hands in her pockets gripping on the piece of paper that had the Ranch’s address that was nearly unrecognizable from the amount of snow/slush/water that it had endured on its way here; Bay didn’t understand why she still kept hold of it, this place was small enough not to have two things named the same, or it was just a easier way to deter people asking her the same question, and with that question there always came more. Curiosity did kill the cat; she wasn’t surprised not to see too many around.

When he asked the next question Baylyn gave a hesitant slow nod, building an icy exterior around herself. It was everything but a neon sign saying ‘wrong way go back’. Bay did not understand what would make a person want to take in troubled teenagers, surely from when she used to live with her father it was hard enough to run a ranch let alone have a bunch of accident prone kids around. Crackling her knuckles inside her jacket Bay kept eye contact, her hands curling into a tighter fist around the crumpled paper, feeling it fall apart in her hand. She would not cower away, standing as tall as she could with squared shoulders she let her bag slide down her left side before catching it in her hand, blinking slightly as it grazed over her shoulder; the tissue would never be the same. Her arm didn’t work before she went through rehab to gain strength back. The doctors said it was 100 to one that she would ever get the use of her arm back, shocked as they were it didn’t last long as soon as she was fit she was sent ‘home’.

Baylyn thought the hospital was the most unbearable place for her to be, her favorite time was when her father came to see her; like any child she relished in the light that he gave her. Until he went away and left darkness in his wake. Bay guessed a part of herself blamed him for not trying harder. Being here was just like receiving a smack to the gut; she refused the effects that it gave; pushing them harshly aside, dwelling on the past would make staying here more unbearable. It would just be easier to shut it out and wait and see.


(OOC: blah, she’s such a downer ;P)

[Wyatt Parker]

Word Count: 433
Status: Complete
Lyrics: N/A

The girl was keeping strong eye contact with Wyatt but he hardly gave her anything in return. She didn't look like the kind of girl who backed down easily, or at least that was the impression she was giving off. He watched her, not scrutinizing but just looking. He wasn't studying her like she was under a microscope but nor did he look at her like she was the dirt under his shoe. He looked at her like she was a normal human being. She was after all just that and he didn't seem to be treating her any differently. You came to Silver Stag to be treated like a person and to be respected as a human being. You were not judged for the things that you did because often kids that came through TTI acted the way they did because of how they had been treated. Take Finnegan for example. He had so much potential as a young, charming man but he was crippled with fear and mistrust - both of which his father had instilled in him.

Wyatt Parker.

He gave her a nod, introducing himself and offering not much more than that about himself. She would know his name from the information she had been given.

Follow me. You can drop off your things.

He ventured forwards, not more towards her, but rather in the direction of a wooden building. He was taking her towards the bunker, in which a number of staff and other TTI members stayed in. There wasn't a porch surrounding it like there was at the house but it was a decent building. It wasn't as cramped as you would have expected it to be. It had enough space for all of the people in it, all of which were still getting used to each other. Wyatt opened the door and sitting there with his boots up on the table, coffee mug in hand, was Billy. He was a ranch hand and his wife's cousin. Wyatt cast him a glance and the cheerful man took his boots off of the table, readjusting himself in his chair. Wyatt held the door open for Baylyn, offering to let her go in first.

Billy, this is Baylyn. Baylyn, Billy.

Wyatt notioned towards the two as he spoke.

"Afternoon."

Billy greeted her with a broad smile, taking his hair back and then returning to his coffee.

The beds at the end aren't taken. You can put your things down an' then we're headin' out into the yard.

He watched Baylyn for a reaction, not expecting a particularly enthusiastic one.

[Baylyn Fort]

When Wyatt introduced himself it was a pleasant change from what she had been expecting, no added questions, and no funny looks just a name. Funny how little things can make a difference. Baylyn followed him after a moment, shifting her bag up to her shoulder beforehand. She then really had a good look around; the house, the barn, paddocks, the ‘bunker’ as Wyatt called it. So strange; she did not understand why they called it a ‘bunker’ wasn’t that normally the things they built for war and they were under the ground? Shaking her head to be rid of the thought, it really wasn’t important what it meant. There were certain language barriers that were beyond her knowledge.

An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach, nerves? Bay didn’t know but the pressure seemed to be building, clenching her teeth she watched as he held the door open for her, taking a reluctant step forward she looked cautiously into the bunker. There was a man seated at the table, armed with a coffee mug seeming at ease here. Her eyes drifted around the wooden house; it seemed steady enough not to fall through when the wind blew harshly; more stable than a lot of the apartments her mother had made them live through anyways. A fleck of affection made its way off her, her mother did try; got it wrong every time but at least she tried. A tight nod was given to Billy when he greeted her; she was never really good at introductions, or goodbyes. Or just talking in general.

After hearing about the beds in the back she ventured slowly to dump her bags on them, looking at the other beds that had people living in them. It didn’t seem odd in a community this small, Baylyn had never shared a room in her life; this wouldn’t be anything but interesting. The ranch was an experience in itself; returning her hands on her pockets she rubbed her thumb over her index knuckle in anticipation. Feeling like she was building herself up to a big punch. Which in fact was funny, she realized she would have to face it sooner or later, they were surrounded by horses. Baylyn made sure her alarm didn’t show at the thought of them; reminding herself calmly that there were many things for her to do around the place without being associated with them.

She met his gaze and after a moment, shrugged, going to sleep now would be a waste; she would end up awake at some absurd time in the morning. Her hands started quivering in her pockets, turning them back into fists. She tried to calm her nerves down; amusingly this was the first time she had this reaction to horses. It was strange; Bay was not use to not being able to not think about it; but it was surprisingly hard not to think about it when it was staring you in the face. Well one day, as some fool said, she would turn back and laugh at this, hoping it was sooner rather than later. The warmth that the bunker was wrapped in blasted away as the youth stepped outside, pushing her mess of hair out of her face she turned to see if Wyatt was coming.

[Wyatt Parker]

Word Count: 347
Status: Complete
Lyrics: N/A

Wyatt waited patiently at the front of the bunker but was distracted when Billy loudly turned the page of his newspaper. The large heading in black text caught his attention.

You seen that?

Wyatt crossed the room to reach the table at which Billy was seated. The ranch hand looked up at him and then adjusted the newspaper to see what Wyatt was so fixated on.

"It ain't gonna come our way. The storms are dyin' down. Have been since mid January."

He cast Wyatt an upwards glance with one eyebrow tweaked higher than the other.

Mhm.

Wyatt mumbled quietly and eyed the page for a few more moments before he became aware that Baylyn had already gone outside. He looked towards her and nodded, looking back at the newspaper one more time before exiting the bunker, his hand on his hip and his expression obviously pensive. His brows had creased together but when he crossed the distance to reach Baylyn he became distracted with something else yet again.

We're gonna choose your horse.

Wyatt announced, standing alongside Baylyn now and dropping his hand from his hip. His coat fell back to where it sat along his waistline naturally. The old coat was worn from the wear put into it by his father before him. It had patches of darker beige on it in some places but the seams held steady and it still had a good few years left in it yet.

Wyatt was looking at Baylyn just then, waiting for a reaction but he didn't seem to linger on it for too long.

What's your experience with horses?

There was only so much that Wyatt could read up on about this girl from the pages of black and white. He had to get his bearings on this girl and know where he stood with her, then work out where to go from there. It was all essential for her progress as well as the horse's, with whom she would be going through this progress. It was a case of learning responsibility for yourself and others.