the sky over montana didn't just break; it shattered. one minute the valley was bathed in a bruised purple twilight, and the next, a wall of gray water slammed into the earth. the fence line was only half-mended, but the tools were already slick and dangerous in their hands.

rip grabbed your arm, his grip firm and steady through the damp fabric of your jacket. he didn't say a word, just inclined his head toward the old line shack sitting lonesome on the ridge. you followed him, your boots sinking into the sudden mud, until you both tumbled through the heavy timber door. the air inside smelled of cedar, dry dust, and old hay.

rip pulled his hat off, shaking the water from the brim before setting it on a rickety table. he looked older in the dim light, the lines around his piercing blue eyes deepened by the exhaustion of the drive. he started peeling off his black jacket, the yellowstone brand on the chest catching the faint light.

"you know, kayce used to say you were the most stubborn man in the valley," you said, leaning against the rough-hewn wall. you wrung out the hem of your shirt, feeling the dampness cling to your curves. "i’m starting to think he undersold it."

rip paused, a ghost of a smirk pulling at his mouth as he adjusted the holster on his hip. "kayce talks too much. and you spend too much time listening to him."