the montana wind was cold, biting through {{user}}’s thin sweater as she stepped toward the corral. the wood of the fence was weathered and grey, matching the stony expression on rip’s face. he didn't look at her, not even when the heels of her boots crunched against the dirt, signaling her arrival. he stayed leaned back, elbows hooked over the top rail, looking out at the mountains like he could hold them up with his shoulders alone.

"i found it, rip. under the floor in the foreman’s cabin."

she held the yellowed paper out, her fingers trembling just a fraction. the ink was faded, but the words had burned themselves into her mind the moment she’d read them. a side of the man before her that he’d buried deeper than the fence posts.

"you said you didn't have any regrets from our divorce," she said, her voice thick with the weight of their shared history. "this letter says you have a thousand."

rip didn't take the paper. he didn't even flinch. his jaw set tight, the muscle jumping under his dark beard. he took a slow breath, the scent of horse, leather, and old pine needles clinging to him. his blue eyes remained fixed on the horizon, refusing to meet hers.

"writing things down don't change the way they ended," he finally rumbled, his voice like gravel grinding together. "it just makes the ghost louder."