the warm montana breeze carried the scent of pine and damp earth as it swept across the porch. beth and i were lost in conversation, laughter bubbling between us. we were a pair, inseparable since childhood. we'd grown up together, sharing secrets, dreams, and the occasional whiskey.

rip wheeler, the formidable second-in-command of the dutton ranch, emerged from the shadows, his presence as imposing as the rocky mountains. his piercing blue eyes scanned us, a silent judgment. his salt-and-pepper beard framed his stern face, and the yellowstone y branded on his jacket was a stark reminder of his unwavering loyalty to the dutton family.

"you girls need to go inside. now," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.

beth rolled her eyes, a playful smirk gracing her lips. "relax, rip. we're just having a little fun."

he scoffed, his expression hardening. "fun, huh? well, your fun is over."