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bubbledtee · 5 months

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ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀʀᴍᴇʀ'ꜱ ᴅᴀᴜɢʜᴛᴇʀ

Warnings: smoking, drinking, social anxiety, sexual references

Word count: 4.8k

beta-read by @30-3am

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✧.* "In a small corner bar he sits there a-drinkin'. Lost as a ball in a field full of corn. Further away than he ever imagined that he'd ever end up from the place he was born." ~ "Creeker", Tyler Childers ✧.*

a/n: this shit took so long to get out i'm giggling

»»——⍟——««

🇳🇪🇼 🇨🇴🇼🇧🇴🇾 🇮🇳 🇹🇴🇼🇳 (Ch. 1)

January 22nd, 1994 - La Veta, CO

Bea held herself in the passenger seat of Zoe’s red Buick LeSabre, the well-below-freezing Colorado weather penetrating the vehicle despite shut windows and cranked heat. She cursed herself for letting Abigail convince her to wear the black, form-fitting turtle-neck dress from her closet, wishing she had opted for a nice pair of blue jeans and a warm sweater instead. She just hoped the heating at the old dive bar would suffice not to freeze her to death tonight.

“Don’t look so sad, B! You’re seein’ the outside world for once,” Abigail’s Kentucky accent was thicker than usual as she pushed Bea’s shoulder slightly from the backseat. “You’re too wrapped up with those damn horses, you need a night off!”

Bea looked behind her into the backseat. The tall, southern blonde held a cigarette between her long, thin fingers, her hand hanging lazily as she balanced her elbow on her knee. Someone walking down the street would know the girl was a Southern beauty just from a glance. She wore too much makeup and an excessive amount of pink that was an eyesore to anybody in their right mind, but most men she was after didn’t so much care about her style as they did about what the dress hid from their perverted gaze.

Bea giggled. “I’m not sad, Abby. I’m just fucking freezing,” she told her, snatching the cigarette from Abigail’s fingers. She brought the lipstick-stained stick up to her mouth and took a long drag, the burn that began to fill her chest, warming her from the inside out. She held the smoke in as she handed the cigarette to Audrey, the girl brushing her ginger curls from her freckled face.

“I shouldn’t have let you convince me to wear this god-awful dress. I’m freezing and I look ridiculous,” Bea grumbled.

There was a collective chorus of ‘no’s’ as soon as she uttered the self-deprecating words, “Shut your mouth, you look gorgeous. You’re just not used to seeing yourself cleaned up!” Zoe insisted, momentarily averting her gaze from the barren and beat-up road to look at Bea. The brunette wore a dubious expression with an eye roll, and Zoe gently hit her arm in retaliation. “I’m serious!”

“And even if you didn’t look good, you’ve gotta be confident. It makes anything look good,” Audrey chimed from the back seat, “I mean, it even makes Abby’s dresses look good on her.”

The already-tipsy blonde gasped beside her, “Fuck you!” she playfully exclaimed, shoving Audrey slightly. “They look good either way,”

The other girls laughed, “Yeah, maybe at some hick beauty pageant in Kentucky.” Audrey rebutted, her face twisted into a wicked grin as she poked fun at her friend.

Bea just shook her head and laughed, watching from the car’s front window. She watched as the sign that read ‘LA VETA’ grew closer and closer until the vehicle eventually passed it - her eyes shifting to the tiny rows of buildings that now enclosed the road on either side.

The minuscule town was one she knew well, memories of walking along the sidewalks with her parents and brothers immediately flooding her mind every time she crossed the threshold. It was the closest town to Lone Wolf Ranch with any civilization, meaning it was the only place the family could shop, eat out, or anything in between. The only times Bea went into town was to buy herself new tack and blankets for horses, or when her friends dragged her into a night out–just like tonight.

The car slowly pulled into the Magpie Inn’s tiny parking lot, Zoe leaning forward slightly to search for an open parking space. Bea looked around, too, searching for any cars she knew. The number of old F-250s and Silverado 3500s that crowded the parking lot made it evident enough that the place would be full of cowboys who had been enjoying their day off at the bar since before noon. And just as she had expected, she recognized almost every vehicle there.

After a minute, Zoe pulled the car into one of the last open parking spots in the lot and shut the vehicle off. The group hopped out before swiftly shuffling toward the bar's front doors, attempting to preserve their warmth as much as possible.

Bea could hear the buzz of the neon sign that hung beside the door as they approached it, its bright lights flashing ‘OPEN’. The warmth of the light almost seemed to radiate off the sign and reach her, and she could feel her face warm slightly as they approached the door.

However, warmth enveloped her significantly stronger when Audrey opened the building’s doors. Not only that, but the pungent stench of liquor and beer that doused everyone’s breath inside found her too, all of it topped off by the booming sound of a country band that sat at the other side of the establishment–playing an upbeat tune.

As they entered the room, Bea practically hid behind her friends like a small child. She felt so stupid for being shy around people she had mainly known for years, but she couldn’t help the embarrassment that flooded her as she imagined what everybody thought about the girl being dressed up like she was. All she could imagine was negativity and internalized insults of all types.

Zoe suddenly pulled Bea from her negative thoughts as she spoke, “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You need something to help you loosen up,” She softly grabbed Bea’s hand and led her toward the bar, carefully weaving through the crowd of drunk cowboys and tradesmen alike. She thought a few blurs of faces seemed familiar, but she was thankful she didn’t have the time to do a double take as she and Zoe reached the bar.

Bea leaned over the bar as her counterpart ordered their drinks, her voice bubbly as she did so. She looked down the bar to her left and observed the folks who sat on the old, cracked leather seat stools along the wooden barrier. Most were older men her father knew well–ones that had long been left by their wives and now drink themselves to death by their lonesome. Some of them make their way from those ruts and redeem themselves as her father and her brother, Johnny, had, but others have no desire to fix themselves. Such as her brother Tommy. She shook the thought from her head as Zoe handed her a Heineken, the cold condensation freezing her fingertips.

She sipped the beer lightly, letting the cold bubbles spread across her tongue and sting slightly down her throat. She never was much of a fan of beer, the scent of the hops often ruining her enjoyment of the otherwise refreshing drink, but right then, she really didn’t seem to mind. Anything that would slightly calm her nerves was worth whatever it might take.

The two walked back toward the other girls, Zoe carrying their beers with her own. Bea followed close behind her as though she were a lost puppy looking for her mother; if she were quite honest, she felt like she was.

They reached Audrey and Abby, and Zoe handed them their drinks. Joking words were shared between the three as Bea’s gaze turned longingly toward the door. She felt pathetic for how much she wanted to leave, like such a nuisance to her poor friends who simply wanted to take her from the nights they deemed lonely. But she didn’t quite enjoy seeing so many longtime family friends (or foes) in one place simultaneously.

As her mind drifted off and her gaze lingered on the door, a tall, blonde cowboy walked through the ingress. He looked almost anxious as he tucked his hands into his Storm Rider’s pockets and glanced around the room, his eyes catching Bea’s. Even from a distance, she could admire the icy blue irises beneath his beaten and dirty cowboy hat. She’d never seen him before.

Before she could longer study his handsome and rugged features, a tap on her shoulder made her head whip in the opposite direction.

“You okay, babe?” Zoe asked her with a tilt of her head, her eyes soft.

Bea nodded quickly with a flushed face. “Yeah… Yeah, I’m good.” She sent a forced smile her friend's way and watched as Zoe’s gaze shifted beyond her and toward the bar. A grin slowly crept onto her face before looking back at Bea.

“He’s cute,” she muttered, causing the pink flush of Bea’s face to turn bright red. Bea rolled her eyes and looked away from Zoe and down at her shoes, almost ashamed. Ever since her last long-term boyfriend left her high and dry two years ago, she hadn’t much tried to find a new lover. Sure, she’d had a rebound or two when she was slumped after the breakup, and she’d tried to have them fill the emptiness that lingered within her heart, but it was either too soon or not enough. So she’d simply given up after a year and decided she’d focus on her father’s ranch rather than a lover. It would be more simple that way, she thought.

However, her desire for a lover had been growing within the prior months, and maybe that’s what gave her the final push to go out with the other girls that night. But she wasn’t sure.

Zoe’s face scrunched in slight disgust as she looked back at the blonde man, “Ugh, but that haircut…” she grimaced, making Bea turn her head to look at him. He had removed his cowboy hat, and his hair was long, with the sides and top cut to make a long mullet. It was reminiscent of a haircut that her sophomore-year boyfriend, Donovan, had had. But she didn’t mind. She supposed the poor choice of haircut was brave in its own kind of way.

“It’s not horrible,” she murmured, not even realizing she was defending the mysterious man. Her gaze lingered a bit longer as he removed his coat, revealing a black long-sleeve shirt with a bleach stain imprinted upon the left sleeve. She only looked away when he glanced back at her after ordering a drink. Bea’s face turned a deep red.

Zoe laughed, “Oh, my god, he’s blushing!”

Bea shook her head, “Shut up. How can you even tell? He looked the other way,” she muttered anxiously, “Stop looking at him, you’re being weird.”

Abby and Audrey turned away from their conversation to inch closer to the two, “What are we looking at?” Audrey asked before taking a sip of her beer.

“The guy with the mullet at the bar,” Zoe told her, pointing at him. Bea wanted to shrink down to the size of an ant and be stepped on right then and there. The situation was beyond embarrassing. “He and Bea were ogling each other,”

Audrey and Abby turned to look at him, “I’ve never seen him around before,” Abby said as she stared at the back of his head. Bea could only imagine how the girls' eyes were burning through the poor man’s skull. She was half expecting his brains to explode under their gaze.

Audrey shook her head, “Me neither,” she agreed. The trio looked back at Bea with wide grins spread across their faces. They seemed oddly excited at the prospect of her simply making eye contact with someone of the opposite sex. Was she really that much of a loser?

“You’ve gotta go talk to him, B!” Abby cheered, the other two girls agreeing in unison.

Bea just looked between the three of them, thoughts racing her mind. He was handsome, but she wasn’t sure if she was fit to simply approach him and attempt conversation. She was more than out of practice regarding anything of that nature.

She began to stutter out an excuse, “I-I don’t wanna bother him-”

Zoe interrupted her with a soft nudge to the shoulder, “There’s not a single man – especially not a cowboy – that would mind being bothered by a pretty girl like you. You know that, baby.” She brought her beer bottle up to her lips and took a quick swig; Bea just gave her a look and silently pleaded with her. Zoe gave a short nod and an understanding smile, “But it’s up to you.”

Bea exhaled a sigh of relief as the other two silently agreed, but not before Abby gave her two cents. “But you’d look adorable with him, B. Even more adorable than you look on your own.”

Bea smiled appreciatively, and with that, the mysterious cowboy was seemingly forgotten. The group carried on with conversation, occasionally running into familiar faces and catching up with each other’s lives over drinks. It slowly became nice for Bea. She wasn’t even entirely sure why she had been nervous to be there in the first place.

However, between drinks and increasingly easier conversation, Bea couldn’t help but sneak looks at the man from before. She’d occasionally catch him gazing softly in her direction already, but when she wouldn’t, she’d admire his features from afar—or at least the ones she could see from where she was standing.

His back was toned–she could tell through his shirt that hugged his broad shoulders–and wide arms. At one point, she had caught him standing to make his way to the bathroom, and she just couldn’t pry her eyes away from his ass. She figured it was better than her own.

With such a physique, she could tell he’d been working for most of his life, and as more alcohol coursed throughout her system, she wondered what that physique was like without such a pesky shirt. She wondered what his muscular thighs were beneath that nettlesome blue denim. Most of all, she wondered how a man she’d never spoken to before could have her practically drooling for doing nothing but minding his own business.

By the bottom of her third beer, Bea was beyond relaxed. She remembered how nice seeing old friends and catching up on small-town drama could be, and she spoke more than she had in the last month. With the growth of her confidence, her consideration of talking to the blonde cowboy grew, too. How horribly could it go? He was lonely, that much was obvious, and she figured he wouldn’t mind the company.

Bea looked back at the man as she took a drag of her cigarette. There was a perfectly free barstool right next to him, and she could hear it calling her name over the booming of the dive bar’s live band. She turned to Zoe and yelled over the thumping bass, “I’m gonna go get another beer,” her voice came out raspy, her throat tired from needing to speak over all their surrounding sounds.

“Okay,” Zoe shouted back. Bea didn’t quite understand how her friend was dealing with the surrounding crowd essentially sober, but she supposed she respected it.

“Do you mind grabbing me one, too?” Audrey asked–a significant slur to her voice.

Bea nodded her head, secretly regretting announcing where she was headed. She looked over at Abby, considering asking if she wanted one too, but she could tell from her company of wasted cowboys that she was more than well off.

Bea flicked her cigarette anxiously and turned toward the bar, beginning to weave through the maze of drunkards. She was smaller than just about everyone in the room, and pushing through the crowd was a task that seemed nearly impossible to her. It was almost like she was invisible as she brushed past drunk cowboys and their equally inebriated female counterparts, people only moving if she pushed them with some force. She truly wondered how difficult it was to be spacially aware as she wedged between the last few layers of people.

Finally, Bea pushed through the thick herd of drunkards and to the line that sat in front of the bar.

Immediately, her eyes were on him.

He had his arm propped up on the bar, his chin gently rested in his hand. His eyes were lazily focused on the hockey game that played on the boxy television hung from the ceiling behind the bar. The Boston Bruins were playing the Philadelphia Flyers, two teams that the mid-westerners who occupied the rest of the bar couldn’t have cared less about, and neither did he, it seemed. But it was something to occupy him, Bea was sure.

She continued to watch as he grabbed his beer bottle and brought it to his lips, taking a thick swig of the bubbly beverage. He huffed a sigh as he set the bottle down.

Bea took a drag of her cigarette and allowed the nicotine to cool her rising nerves. She looked back at the girls she had left, immediately locking eyes with a grinning Zoe. Bea looked away and down at her feet, a blush painting her face. Now she really couldn’t back out, unless she wanted to be chastised endlessly by her best friend for not committing to the chance she was about to take.

With a final drag of her cigarette, Bea looked into the smudged mirror behind the liquor shelves of the bar. She cursed that stupid dress she wore, telling herself how ridiculous it looked. Why couldn’t she have just worn jeans and a blouse? She’d look cuter and be comfier.

Silently, she shook the thoughts from her head as she remembered what Audrey said in the car earlier.

Whatever, Bea thought, Confidence, B, that’s all you need.

She stood straight, adjusting her body language to display confidence, hoping it looked even somewhat natural. She looked back at where Zoe had been staring from, only to find the back of her head. No more eyes on her, good.

With her sleight confidence, Bea walked up to the barstool beside the blonde and sat, setting her forearms upon the bar. She was there. It was a step in the right direction. All she had to do now was start a conversation. Somehow.

In an attempt to stall for time, she waved down the bartender and asked for another beer, hoping it would convince the man beside her that he wasn’t the entire reason she had sat down. Though, he seemed to have not noticed her presence as he lit a cigarette and kept his focus on the hockey game in front of him.

Bea watched from the corner of her eye as he took a long drag and flicked the ash into the tray that sat to the left of him. As he did so, his eyes followed the cigarette, stopping only when they seemed to catch something on the bar. Right then, she noticed just how blue his eyes were; they were only a shade or two darker than the noon sky.

“There you are, darlin’.” The bartender smiled at Bea as he set a cold Heineken in front of her.

She looked up, her eyes wide in something akin to confusion before awkwardly smiling back. “Oh! Thanks,” she spoke. The bartender nodded and turned away, making his way to a drunkard waving him down elsewhere.

Bea’s attention slyly turned back towards the blonde beside her. His eyebrows were furrowed in what seemed to be curiosity, and Bea tried to follow where exactly he was looking. She looked at the ashtray and slowly tracked further left until her gaze met her hand.

“What’s that say?” the man asked, his voice enough to melt Bea into a puddle.

She looked at him, her head tilting. “What?” she nearly squeaked.

“The tattoo,” he pointed to the ink inscribed on top of her hand, “What’s it say?”

His voice was thick and gruff but had a deep smoothness to it that made Bea’s head spin. She looked back at her hand, almost as if she was unaware of the emblem written into her skin. “Oh,” she looked at him, her cheeks flushed a bright red. “Blondie,” she finally told him as she rolled her sleeve up just a bit to reveal the entire tattoo. The name had been inscribed in calligraphy below the print date of “9/26/1988”, a small heart attached to the tail of the ‘e’ on the calligraphy with it all encircled by the depiction of a horseshoe.

“What’s the date for?” the cowboy asked, twisting his upper body towards the woman beside him and bringing his cigarette back to his lips.

Bea sat up straight, “It’s the day he died,” she told him before stumbling to cover her vagueness, “Blondie, a horse of mine. First horse I ever broke on my own,”

The man’s eyebrows shot up, obviously expecting a different, much happier answer. Whatever that may have been. “Oh, m’sorry.” he muttered, clearing his throat and taking a swig of his beer.

“That’s alright,” Bea smiled softly, her heart thumping hard against her ribcage as she spoke with him. Even over the sound of the dive bar’s band, she was sure he could hear it too.

He took another quick drag of his cigarette before stubbing it in the glass ashtray. His hands were big and rough, obviously made from years of work. Bea’s stomach coiled slightly at the sight as her mind wandered. She thought about how they’d feel on her back, her hips, her thighs…

“I like it, though,” he told her, snapping her from her sinful thoughts. He looked up at her, “Not many folks have tattoos. It’s different,”

She was sure her face was beet red as she smiled at him, “Thank you,” she said. “Usually, people ask me if I was drunk when I decided to get it. Or if I worship Satan.”

The cowboy squinted and scoffed before saying, “For a tattoo commemorating a dead horse?”

She shrugged, “They say it’s a Pagan practice.” The cowboy just shook his head and rolled his eyes as he took a final swig of his beer. Bea spoke, “Pretty sure Pagans don’t worship Satan, either.”

“People just like hearing themselves talk,” he grumbled, placing the empty beer bottle on the bar. “Always have something to say about how you live your life. It’s dumb.”

“Agreed,” Bea nodded, reaching for her untouched beer bottle. She took a swig as the cowboy returned to watching the TV, the game at the tail end of the third period. Now she had to start more conversation. She reached into her dress’s pocket and pulled out her pack of Marlboro Reds alongside a lighter. As she plucked a cigarette from the pack, she spoke. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.”

The man looked at her, “Definitely not,” he smiled softly. “I’m originally from a bit further west, little town called Durango.”

Bea nodded, her eyes lighting up. “Oh, yeah! My daddy won a big barrel racing title out that way in ‘68 at the uh…”

“Fiesta Days Rodeo?”

“Yeah! That’s it!”

The cowboy nodded, his entire body turned on the barstool towards Bea. He had a prideful smirk on his face, “That’s the first rodeo I ever rode in. Junior bull riding in ‘77 when I was 14. Fell off in three seconds,”

Bea tilted her head and smiled, “You’re a bull rider?”

“Was, for about two years. Then I started doing some of the calf roping in the rodeo. I did a whole lot better with that, nowhere near as many head injuries.” he told her, picking up his hat from the bar and placing it on his knee to dust it off. “I tried barrel racing, but I never really got the hang of it. Cutting was the most fun, though. It feels like working a herd, except you’re in a ring,”

Bea nodded, “I did lots of cutting before Blondie died. He knew how to work cattle better than any old ranch horse we had,” she told him, “I still breed and train cutters and barrel racers, competing’s just harder nowadays.”

“You sell ‘em, too?” he asked, an eyebrow quirked.

She nodded, a grin plastered across her face. “Yeah. Why? You interested?”

The man snorted and put his hat on, “You’re funny,”

Bea giggled, “Come on, any self-respecting man wants a good working horse!” she took a tender sip of her beer.

The cowboy gave her a sardonic look, “Do I look like I have any self-respect, Miss…”

“Dalton,” she answered, “Lorelei Dalton, just call me Bea.”

“Where does ‘Bea’ come from out of ‘Lorelei Dalton’?” he teased.

She rolled her eyes, only then realizing just how loose her once-tensed muscles had become. “My middle name is Bernadette if you really have to know.”

The blonde nodded before sticking out his hand for her to shake, “James Hetfield,” he said as she grabbed it and they shook.

Bea’s hand was warm in his grip, his hand almost twice the size of hers and calloused from his years of work. “What brings you out here, then, Mr. Hetfield?”

“James,” he corrected with a smirk, “And just work. I was in Wyoming working a ranch this past year, but the guy who owned the place was a shady fuck. Didn’t ever pay any of his cowpunchers quite what he owed, so I just sort of up and left.”

Bea nodded, “I’d have done the same,” she said, “Why didn’t you go back to Durango?”

He shrugged. “It’s in my past,”

She took it as an ‘I don’t wanna talk about it,’.

“Well, there’s plenty of cattle to work out this way.” she told him, “I hope you find someone who’ll pay you what they owe,”

“Yeah, me too.” James chuckled. His laugh sent Bea’s insides fluttering. It was adorable. “I dunno, I’ve got a ‘trial’ for a job, I guess. Over in Cuchara. I start tomorrow,”

Bea leaned on the bar top, “Maybe I’ll be seeing you around often, then.” she told him. His head tilted in curiosity at her words. “My family’s ranch is out in Cuchara, ‘Lone Wolf’. My daddy and my brother work the cattle.

“Just them?” he asked.

Bea nodded, “Our herd isn’t huge right now, we had a bad calving yield this past spring.” she told him, taking a swig of her beer before continuing. “What’s the name of the ranch you’re gonna be working?”

James shrugged, “I forgot,” he simply said.

Bea gave him an unimpressed look, “Really?”

“Really.” he affirmed, “I’ve got the address, though.” he began fishing through his jeans’ pockets, but before he could pull anything from them, Bea felt a tap on her shoulder. She whipped her head around.

“Hey, babe. We’ve gotta go,” Zoe told her, her hand now grabbing for the meaty part of Bea’s arm.

“Wh-” Bea began, but her eyes soon fell upon Audrey, who was attempting to hold the attention of a tall, dark-haired cowboy across the room. However, his dark eyes were narrowed and focused overtop of the woman’s head. Straight at Bea. “Oh,” was all she could muster as her stomach dropped to her feet.

“Yeah,” Zoe said before looking over at James, who now sat dumbfounded and almost upset that this random woman had interrupted their conversation. He held a small piece of paper in his hand. “Sorry.” Zoe told him sincerely, “Just look her up in the Yellow Pages, or something.”

With that, Zoe and Bea began out the door. Bea turned to wave at the blonde cowboy, finding his now-longing and sad eyes following her out the door. He waved back at her with a sigh before standing and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. She felt horrible. But she also needed to get out of there.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked Zoe, wide-eyed as they burst through the entrance. The bitter wind stung their cheeks.

Zoe shrugged, “He just came up to Audrey and asked if you were with us,” she unlocked her car’s door, and the two got into the vehicle. She stuck the key in the ignition, and the engine struggled to a start.

“I thought he’d left town!” Bea exclaimed as she shivered, trying to warm up as the car pushed hot air through its vents. “When is he going to fucking leave me alone?! We fucked twice. Twice! A year ago! That’s it!”

Zoe nodded, “I know. He’s a creep.”

Right then, the doors to the bar burst open, Audrey and Abigail drunkenly stumbling out with something akin to haste. Abigail was leaning against Audrey, her drunkenness reducing her to the balance of a toddler. They raced across the parking lot and burst the car doors open as soon as they reached them.

“We’ve got to go,” Audrey practically shouted as she slammed the door beside her. “Fucker tried grabbing me,”

Zoe whipped around, “What?!”

The man in question emerged from the entrance.

“Zoe, go,” Bea told her friend firmly. The car was then quickly put into gear, and they whipped out of the parking lot, leaving the old dive bar in the dust.

#yay!!!! i did it!!!!#only took 6 months #anywhooo #i hope y'all enjoy!!!!#hopefully gonna have chapter two out in like two or three weeks #james hetfield #papa het #ranch hand!james #rancher!james #metallica #james hetfield x oc #james hetfield fluff #james hetfield smut #the farmer's daughter #bub's writing

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