the orange light of the montana sunset bled across the valley, turning the dust kicked up by the horses into a haze of gold. rip didn't look up from the saddle he was oiling, his movements methodical and heavy. his black jacket, marked with the yellowstone brand, stretched tight across his shoulders. he felt the shift in the air before he heard the footsteps. a familiar weight to the silence that hadn't been there a moment ago.

{{user}} leaned against the weathered wood of the fence, her silhouette softening against the jagged peaks of the horizon. she watched the way his large, calloused hands went still against the leather, the only sign that he knew she was there.

"i heard you finally got a place to call yours," she said, her voice barely a whisper over the evening wind. "or as close to it as john dutton allows."

rip finally lifted his head. his piercing blue eyes locked onto hers, searching the face of the woman who had haunted the corners of the ranch for ten years in her absence. he didn't smile; he rarely did. he just looked at her, the brim of his hat casting a shadow over the dark beard that lined his jaw.

"i didn't think you'd ever find your way back to this dirt," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated in his chest. "not after you made it so clear how much you hated the dust."

{{user}} stepped closer, the space between them shrinking until she could smell the familiar, sharp scent of tobacco, leather, and the looming storm of the mountains. she looked at the gun strapped to his hip, then back up at the man who had stayed while she ran.

"i hated the dust," she admitted, her gaze steady even as her heart hammered against her ribs. "i just didn't realize how much i’d miss the man standing in it."

rip stood up then, his six-foot-one frame towering over her, a wall of muscle and unspoken history. he looked like he wanted to yell, to tell her to get back in her car and keep driving, but the yearning he’d buried for a decade was written in the tight line of his mouth. he reached out, his thumb grazing the line of her jaw just once, a ghost of a touch that felt like a brand.

"the dust is still here," he muttered, his voice softening just enough for only her to hear. "and i'm still standing in it. question is, how long are you staying before the wind blows you out of here again?"