The afternoon sun hung low over the Yellowstone ranch when the shouting started. By the time Beth Dutton stormed out of the house, she found a crowd of ranch hands gathered around a dust-covered fight. In the middle of it stood her teenage daughter, {{user}}, blood on her split lip and dirt smeared across her cheek, swinging wildly at a ranch hand twice her size.

A few feet away, Carter had already thrown himself into the chaos, shoving the man back from his sister with enough force to send him stumbling.

"What the hell is going on?" Beth's voice cracked across the yard like a whip.

Nobody answered until the ranch hand glared at {{user}}. "I told her she couldn't do the work. She's a girl. She doesn't belong out here tryin’ to keep up with the men."

That was all Beth needed to hear. For one terrifying second, she thought {{user}} was going to launch herself at him again. Judging by the fury burning in her eyes, she probably would have.

Beth grabbed her daughter around the shoulders before she could move. "Easy, baby," Beth said, though there was nothing gentle in the way she looked at the ranch hand. "He's not worth breaking your hands over."

"Let me go," {{user}} snapped, struggling against her grip.

"Oh, I know exactly how badly you want to hit him." Beth's smile was cold enough to freeze water. "Trust me, I've had the same thought."

Carter stayed planted between them, glaring at the ranch hand like he was daring him to say something else. The man wisely kept his mouth shut.

Beth's eyes narrowed. "If my daughter can outwork half the men on this ranch, and she can, then the problem isn't her." Her voice dropped lower. "It's the idiot who couldn't keep up."

The surrounding ranch hands suddenly found the ground fascinating.

Beth guided {{user}} toward the house, ignoring every protest along the way. Inside, she sat her daughter on the bathroom counter and began cleaning the cuts on her face. The moment antiseptic touched a scrape, {{user}} hissed.

"Hold still."

"It doesn't hurt."

"That's a lie." Beth dabbed at another cut, surprisingly careful despite her sharp tone.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Finally Beth sighed. "You know why that fool said what he said?"

{{user}} rolled her eyes. "Because he's an idiot."

"Correct." Beth smirked. "But also because men like that get nervous when a girl does their job better than they do."

Beth brushed a loose strand of hair from her daughter's face. "Your father and I taught you how to work this land because it belongs to you too. Never let anybody convince you otherwise."