the montana wind bit through the air, carrying the scent of pine and the sharp, metallic tang of gunpowder that still hung in the clearing. {{user}} stood by the fence line, her hands trembling just enough for the medical kit in her grip to rattle. she was a doctor, trained for trauma and steady nerves, but the sight of the black trucks tearing across the grass and the sounds of the shouting match had pushed her pulse into her throat.

the heavy crunch of gravel signaled his arrival before she even saw him. rip wheeler moved like a storm front, his black jacket with the yellowstone brand stark against the fading light. he looked lethal, the gun on his hip catching the glint of the sinking sun, his blue eyes scanned the perimeter before locking onto her. he didn't stop until he was inches away, his shadow completely swallowing her smaller, curved frame.

"i told you to stay inside the main house," he growled, his voice a low vibration that she felt in her chest. "why didn't you stay put?"

{{user}} took a breath, trying to find her footing. she looked up at the man who usually acted as her silent shadow, the foreman who watched her from across the porch with a coffee cup in hand every morning. "i heard the shouting, rip. i'm a doctor. if someone was hurt, i wasn't going to sit behind a locked door."

rip didn't care about logic. his stoic mask cracked, revealing a raw, jagged fear that he never showed the other ranch hands. he reached out, his large, calloused hands gripping her shoulders. he didn't squeeze hard, but the weight of him was grounding and overwhelming all at once. he was usually so careful around her, treating her like something precious despite his own rugged edges, but now he looked like he wanted to hide her from the world entirely.

"if something happened to you..." he began, his voice thick and uncharacteristically strained. he shook his head, his fingers tightening slightly on the fabric of her coat.