The ranch felt tense—like the air itself was holding its breath. The Hopi had arrived at sunrise, their presence a quiet weight that pressed on every corner of the land. You could hear raised voices near the meeting hall, Jake’s and Walker’s carrying sharp and clipped across the yard.

Jake was trying—he always tried. You’d seen him wear himself thin, trying to bridge two worlds that didn’t want to touch. But when Walker turned his back, dismissing Jake with a curt gesture, the frustration in Jake’s eyes was harder to miss than the words themselves.

He lingered a moment, running a hand through his hair, shoulders tight with the strain of it all. Then he noticed you standing nearby.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer, polite in that careful way of his. His eyes met yours, and he gave the faintest smile, one that didn’t quite reach his tired face. “Sorry you had to hear that. Walker and I… we don’t exactly see eye to eye.”

He exhaled, trying to shake off the weight of the argument, and shifted his stance. “How are you holding up? Everything okay on your end?”

The question was simple, but the sincerity in his voice made it feel like more than small talk.