Chapter Text
Beth surreptitiously observed her mother trying to gauge her mood. She couldn't help but be nervous as it seemed recently that everything she did and everything she tried to do just wouldn’t reach the high expectations of the Dutton Matriarch; to the contrary Beth seemed incapable of not irking her mother. Today was no different. She wasn’t sure what minute detail would be found to be sub-par, but she knew her mother’s hair-trigger temper could be riled at the slightest provocation. The worst part was not knowing; the arbitrary nature of her mother’s whims meant she couldn’t be sure if today’s performance would mean punishment or the usually nit-picky fault finding.
In a twisted way Beth preferred the physical corrective, a slap or a punch could only sting for a short-while. It was marginally safer, as the corrective would be swiftly applied; but never anywhere visible; her bruises where her own private badges of shame. The jibes and cutting remarks were something that could be wielded liberally throughout the day. The specific vindictive putdowns were never as bad as when she was alone with her mother, but it was like the feeling of death-by-a-thousand-papercuts. Her mother would chip away continually at her sensitive psyche, needling her with derogatory comments. Beth always felt the cold rebukes doubly hard as her mother interspersed her callousness towards her only daughter with her fawning praise of her sons. The picture perfect image of their family the Duttons portrayed in public, was very different to the home-life reality on the ranch.
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Beth kept her hands busy, she was determined not to make the same mistakes twice, her hands scrubbing the pots and pans with a brisk energy she did not truly feel, but she knew “idling” was a punishable offence. She could sense her mother’s cold review, eyeing every element of the breakfast she had slaved over for the bunkhouse. The woman was unerring in her quest to highlight even the smallest of failings, but so far silence could only mean that no obvious faults could be found.
Beth stifled her yawn as she stretched for the final set of pans. She had woken herself extra early to avoid her mother’s jibes of laziness. She had managed much better making the grits without her mother’s reproachful presence. She had fried up the mountain of sausage and bacon while the beans had bubbled in the large pan. She was now cleaning. Surely she was safe in the home stretch. She willed her mother to leave with the giant tray of breakfast foods. She would follow demurely in her wake, once it was safe. She knew a respectable delay of 5 minutes, to bring the bread and toast fresh from the oven was the last remaining job. A carefully calibrated sleight to allow her to witness the praise her mother was going to garner for the fruits of Beth’s own hard labour.
Beth let out a sigh she scarcely realised she was holding in. She heard the distinctive noise of her mother’s boots as she left the main house, the door closing with its trademark thump. She cast an eye to the kitchen clock to confirm the ungodliness of the morning hour, but steadfast in her resolve to follow her mother’s orders. She allowed herself to luxuriate in the pleasant thought of returning to bed, she reasoned she could easily stay in the refuge of her room for a few hours before her morning chores would need to be completed or before she’d need to prep for dinner. Once the respite of her 5 minute reverie was over, she quickly checked her reflection in the mirror, giving herself a final once-over. It had taken a serious amount of training for her mother to instil the ‘proper demeanour for a young lady’, she would just need to navigate the next 15 minutes in the bunkhouse without raising her mother’s ire, threading the an imaginary line between 'too friendly' and 'not friendly enough'. She would be able to rest and recharge her batteries. She let the inscrutable expression on her face mask her true feelings, as she made her timid way to the bunkhouse.
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Kayce radiated excitement, he buzzed with unbounded pleasure as he bounced down to the stables to collect his horse, tack in hand. Beth tried to push through her own tiredness, knowing that insufficient enthusiasm could mean punishment, even though perplexingly over enthusiasm could also be viewed by her capricious mother as an offence too. Beth knew she was only driving herself to distraction second-guessing her mother’s motives for bringing her youngest children on an early morning horse ride through the lower paddocks. Beth politely handed her mother’s riding gear, studiously avoiding any eye-contact that could be retconned into being 'sass', before she dared reach for her own tack. She mentally calibrated her thoughts to her overdue tasks, not only had she been robbed of her free time, she was beginning to worry about her ability to complete the laundry list of work that needed to be accomplished in the afternoon.
Beth thought her heart would stop as her mother’s low tsk, breached the tentative silence between them. She cursed herself for getting distracted, her heart-racing in her attempt to understand her misstep. “Beth honey, you’ll never amount to a half-decent rancher’s wife if you continue to ride that nag your father gave you last year”. Beth’s hand was frozen in place, she thought she understood what her mother was saying, but in her tiredness and fear, she wished only to be proven wrong.
“Come on dummy, you’ll need the next size up to ride your father’s latest arrival”.
A cold knot of despair sank to the pit of Beth’s empty stomach, if this horse didn’t even have a name yet, she couldn’t even be sure it was properly broken in. Coupled with the fact she was going to be using unfamiliar and larger equipment, Beth knew she had a torrid morning in store. Her mother put great stock in horsemanship, which was no doubt the reason why she invited her youngest fearless son to join them, all the better to have a focal point for her praise to stand in contrast to the target of her opprobrium.
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Beth clung to her reins two-handed, she could feel the horse beneath her bristle with the indignity of having such a ‘god-awful’ rider. It surprised her that she had managed to wrangle the horse down to the lower paddocks, but it was proving to be both a physical and mental strain. Beth marvelled how she had already internalised her mother’s none-too-subtle critiques, the loud exasperated sighs were enough to drive home the unsubtle point. Despite all her efforts this morning, her mother was not pleased. Beth’s good grades and popularity meant nothing to her mother, she wanted her only daughter to be a fully-formed rancher’s wife despite her daughter’s young teenaged years.
Beth tried to let her mother’s snide criticisms wash over her, in her tired state she hadn’t the bandwidth to multi-task on anything other than the recalcitrant horse. She realised too late her brother was flanking her already over-jittery horse. Beth fought mightily to correct her bucking horse, as her untroubled mother fiddled with the paddock gate, unmoved by her daughter’s fear and panic.
After an increasingly violent succession of bucks, Beth’s experience of weightlessness was mirrored in the comical arch of Kayce’s worried face as he tracked his sister skyward trajectory from the horse, turn into a downward crunching pile-driver onto the rocky ground. Beth used her free hand to push herself onto her back, a fresh wave of stinging pain washed over her body, as she struggled to clear her watery vision. Everything hurt. Kayce’s guilty face swum into view piercing her unobstructed view of cerulean sky. Beth waited to hear her mother’s reaction, knowing that she shouldn’t automatically expect concern, but hoping that Kayce would at least be chastised and just maybe there might be a small modicum of comfort offered; or the solace of knowing that help would be actively sought.
The silence was deafening, through her tear-strewn eyes Beth could see Kayce’s guilty visage was alternating between looking down on her prone form and casting a worried glance into the middle distance. It took Beth a few seconds to push past the pain, bitting back on the howl of anguish she wished she could let rip, knowing that loud complaints might be the cause for later punishment. Her mind absorbing the faraway words her mother was repeating in a loud exacerbated tone. As a prior expert, Beth’s self-protective antennae were attuned to the underlying threat, she knew that any plea for help would meet a swift rebuke.
“Come on Kayce, if she can’t ride a bloody horse she can walk home. Imagine living on a ranch and not being able to ride…pathetic”.
Beth observed the twisted confusion on her brother’s ashen face as the insistent older female voice continued to beckon him away. Beth wasn’t sure if Kayce had mouthed the word sorry as she heard the gentle patter of horse-hooves trot by. She had closed her eyes briefly to staunch the fresh flow of tears, only to find she no longer had the energy to open them again.