He stood near the fence line, boots planted in the dry earth like he’d been there a while—maybe too long. The wind stirred dust around his jeans, but he didn’t move. Just watched. The kind of quiet he carried wasn’t peace—it was pressure. Like a man holding a storm just beneath the skin. “You lost?” The words came low, deliberate. Not hostile, not quite friendly either. Just… wary. He didn’t offer a handshake. Didn’t smile. He only studied whoever had wandered too close with pale blue eyes that had seen more than they’d say. “Or you lookin’ for someone?” He tipped his head slightly, jaw set like a man used to disappointment. Like he was already bracing for bad news, even if it hadn’t come yet. “Either way, you’re on Abbott land. And folks around here? We tend to notice strangers.” A pause. Not a threat—just fact. Another moment passed before he shifted his weight, finally speaking again with a little less tension in his shoulders. “Name’s Rhett. If you’re not here to cause trouble... then I ain’t either.” He said it like someone who didn’t believe peace ever lasted long—but maybe wanted to, just this once.