Chapter Text
Prologue
Rip squinted as he looked up at the sign above him. It was a simple post that read “Yellowstone Dutton Ranch” with a hooked Y on each side; however, the ranch behind it was anything but simple. Rip had seen his fair share of large ranches, but he’d never worked on one this big, this grand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping, a job advertisement looking for wranglers who could rope, ride, maintain basic ranch needs, break broncs…all things Rip could do and had done since he left his home when he was sixteen years old. He hadn’t stayed in the same place longer than six months in almost twenty years, traveling around Montana, and the surrounding states, learning anything and everything at ranches and farms.
Rip had left a smaller ranch just outside of Billings and was making his way to Dillon to look for work before the winter season came through. He’d stopped in Bozeman for the night and was just about to climb into his truck when he decided to stop at a small diner for a quick bite to eat. He picked up a newspaper and saw the Yellowstone’s wanted ad. Leading him to now, standing on the outskirts of the impressive ranch, ready to find work and hopefully stay put throughout the winter. Rip climbed back into this truck and drove down the long driveway.
Rip looked around, hoping he wasn’t in the way when he pulled his truck to a stop next to a row of large, impressive ranch trucks. He saw several men exiting the equally-impressive barn, leading their saddled horses behind them. One of them spotted Rip and he pivoted his way, leading his horse with him.
“Can I help you?” The man asked Rip.
Rip nodded, “I’m looking for the foreman, or whoever’s in charge.”
“That would be Lloyd, I can fetch him for you.” He looked around to the other men and then back to Rip, “One minute.”
“Appreciate it.”
The wrangler stepped away, put his fingers to his lips, and whistled loudly, “Lloyd!” An older cowboy turned in his saddle and the wrangler beckoned him over. The man he called Lloyd clicked his horse into a trot and looked over at Rip when the first cowboy pointed to him.
“What can I do for you?” Lloyd asked as he approached Rip. He was much older than Rip, at least by twenty years, he was slower to get off his horse and Rip heard a low grunt as he settled himself on the ground. Rip reached into his pocket and pulled out the newspaper clipping.
“Lookin’ for work.” He said as he held out the newspaper.
Lloyd took the clipping from him, “You got experience?”
“About twenty years’ worth.” Rip answered.
Lloyd handed the newspaper back to Rip then looked at the wrangler beside him, “Go ahead and get them going, Ryan, I’ll be a minute.” Ryan mounted his horse and nodded briefly to Rip who nodded back, and he turned his horse and trotted over to the men who waited patiently for their instruction.
“You a drifter, sir?” Lloyd asked Rip.
“Yes’sir,” Rip nodded, “I’ve worked every kind of ranch and farm there is. My name is Rip.” He held his hand out and Lloyd shook it firmly.
“Lloyd, I’m the ranch’s foreman.”
Rip released his hand, “I’m not too proud to prove myself, Lloyd. Anything you throw at me, I can handle.”
Lloyd considered him for a minute, “Well, I gotta be honest, Rip, we’re not really looking for short term hands right now. We need someone who can be in it for the long haul. Ain’t got the time to keep training new folks, I’m afraid you’ve wasted a trip if you ain’t willing to stick around for a while.”
Rip considered Lloyd’s words, could he stay here? His whole reason for coming here was in the hopes he could stay throughout the winter, what was a few more months? Rip looked around briefly at his surroundings, the barn and surrounding buildings were well kept, the horses looked healthy and well-cared for, their tack clean and maintained. He looked back at Lloyd who was watching him patiently. Rip believed he could work for this man, for a while, at least. It might be nice to hang his hat at a place like this, he was getting on in years, he didn’t really have the energy for the unknown that used to bring him a sense of excitement.
Not to mention staying in one place no longer than six months didn’t allow for Rip to make many friends, barely any if he was honest with himself. He was always a quiet, reserved man, and he didn’t allow himself to buddy up with fellow wranglers and cowboys, knowing he would just be leaving in the next few weeks or months. Maybe it was time he stayed put.
“Give me a year?” Rip asked.
Lloyd studied him, “A year will do. We’ll go from there.”
“We’ll go from there.” Rip held his hand out and Lloyd gripped it.
“Welcome to the Yellowstone, Rip.”
***
Chapter 1
October
Rip settled in comfortably on the Yellowstone. He was introduced to the wranglers and quickly picked up on their ranch experience. Rip out-experienced them all by a few years at least. The wranglers were welcoming and friendly, and Rip immediately liked them all. A rare occurrence on ranches and Rip considered himself lucky. He was pleased with his decision to stay for at least a year, and as time went by, Rip felt as if he could stay longer; he was happy with his job and the work. Lloyd ran a tight ship and Rip could see that the ranch was well cared for in all aspects. The barn was tidy, with haystacks stacked neatly, tack polished and organized, even the dirty floor was swept of all debris, and hosed down daily. The animals were well taken care of, Rip could see no sign of mistreatment or neglect. The ranch’s equipment was maintained and immediately fixed if anything broke. Yes, the Yellowstone was a well-oiled machine as far as Rip could see, and he was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of staying.
After a couple of weeks on the ranch, Rip fell into a comfortable routine starting off with his brisque walk from the bunkhouse to the barn. It was only a few yards, but Rip enjoyed the sights and sounds of the early morning, when the birds were waking up with the sky. The October air was cool and crisp as it entered his lungs and Rip helped himself to a couple of meditative breaths as he made his way to the barn. He was surprised when he caught sight of John Dutton himself walking away from the barn in long strides, a man with perfectly combed, dark hair trotting after him. The man wore a suit and Rip chuckled at the thought of his shined shoes getting all dusty as the man stopped for a moment to try and shake his shoes clean, then hurried after Mr. Dutton.
Rip had only ever said ‘hello’ to Mr. Dutton, having met him briefly on his third or fourth day on the job. John Dutton had briefly looked Rip over, welcomed him to the ranch, and moved on to Lloyd. Rip respected the brevity of their introduction, he didn’t like being grilled on his experience and it seemed if Rip was good enough for the foreman, he was good enough for John Dutton. Ever since then, Rip would tip his hat when he saw the rancher, and that was it. He didn’t recognize the man in the suit, but figured it was somebody the wranglers knew as they all nodded their heads at him and Ryan even said good morning.
“Dutton’s business partner?” He asked Ryan as they both entered the barn.
“What?” Ryan looked confused, then he shook his head, “Oh, no, that was Jamie Dutton. Mr. Dutton’s second oldest son. He’s the ranch attorney and bookkeeper. Nice guy. He sometimes likes to cowboy with us when Mr. Dutton allows it. He’s been in Helena for the last month handling all of that political bullshit I don’t understand.”
Rip chuckled, “You and me both.”
They were silent for a moment longer as they saddled their horses.
“Where’s his oldest kid?” Rip asked, realizing he knew nothing about his boss.
Ryan dropped his head, “Lee.” He took a deep breath, “Died about six months ago, livestock commission gone wrong. He was shot trying to retrieve some stolen cattle.” The look of sadness that reflected Ryan’s face made Rip wish he never asked.
“Jesus.” Was all he said.
“Yeah,” Ryan tightened his cinch, “he was a good guy. You’d have liked him. It’s a damn shame he’s dead”
Rip nodded, unsure of what else to say, “So just the two sons, huh?”
Ryan shook his head again, “Kayce is the third son and the youngest, he took off about eight years ago, went and married a girl from the reservation. He lives there now with her and their son. I hear he’s making a living training horses. He’s a damn good trainer,” Ryan added, “one of the best I’ve ever seen.” Rip considered this as he and Ryan led their horses outside. If this Kayce Dutton was one of the best, why didn’t he work on his father’s ranch?
“Then of course there’s Beth.” Ryan said offhandedly as they waited for Lloyd.
“Beth?”
“Mr. Dutton’s only daughter. She doesn’t come home much, she left for college right around the time I started working here. About thirteen years ago. I can count on one hand how many times she’s been back. Fucking ball buster, that one. Can’t blame her, I guess.” He added.
“Why’s that?”
Ryan shrugged, “She was basically raised by men. Cowboys. Mr. Dutton’s wife died twenty or so years ago.”
They heard Lloyd’s whistle, and Ryan climbed into his saddle, “Better get going.”
“Probably so.” Rip agreed as he pulled himself into his saddle.
***
February
“Fuck.” Rip’s breath came in short puffs in the winter air, they had just pulled up to the pasture to feed the cattle when Rip noticed a calf lagging behind as the herd happily came for their dinner.
Ryan turned to where Rip was looking and squinted in the heavy snow, “What?”
“That calf.” Rip began to walk toward the small calf who was struggling to keep up with its mother. Ryan followed Rip, his rope to the ready.
“Think she’s sick.” Rip said simply as he dodged the calf’s mother, “Easy there, mama, I’m just checkin’.” The heifer snorted but allowed Rip to walk by her and approach her offspring.
The calf lowered its head and her breath came in painful-sounding rasps, “Shit, yeah, she might have pneumonia.” The calf yanked away from Rip’s touch when he reached out, “Shh, shh,” Rip comforted, “it’s okay, baby.”
Ryan groaned, “Fuck. She might have given it to the whole goddamn herd.”
“I’ll check them.” Rip said, he reached out for Ryan’s rope, and slipped it smoothly over the calf’s neck, “you take her. Come back for me.”
“You sure?” Ryan said.
“I’m sure,” Rip led the uncooperative calf to the truck, he handed Ryan the lead and reached into the truck for his flashlight, “get going. Have Lloyd call the vet.”
Ryan tugged the calf with him and hoisted her into the back of the truck, “Don’t freeze to death.” He said to Rip.
“I won’t if you’d hurry the fuck up.” Rip joked as he watched Ryan climb into the truck. Ryan drove slowly through the heavy snow and Rip knew he’d be waiting a while. He sighed as he began the grueling task of checking each and every member of the herd for illness.
The snow was coming down harder as Ryan pulled the truck to a stop in front of the barn just as Lloyd was stepping out of it.
“What’s going on?” Lloyd asked as Ryan hoisted the calf out of the truck as she called for her mother.
“Sick, maybe pneumonia. Rip caught it.” Ryan tugged the sluggish calf toward the barn, “We gotta call the vet.”
Lloyd blew out an exasperated sigh, “Shit, we gotta go check that entire herd.”
“Rip’s on it.” Ryan said, “I’m going to go back and help him as soon as I drop this one off. Can you call the vet?”
“Rip stayed behind?” Lloyd looked up at the darkening sky, it was pitch black already and only six o’clock.
Ryan nodded, “Can you call the vet or not?”
“I’ll call her. You grab Colby and take him back with you. Have him follow you in his truck, Rip can come back after y’all get there. He’s probably about to freeze his ass off.” Ryan nodded, handed the calf’s rope to Lloyd, and hurried for the bunkhouse to collect Colby.
Rip gratefully saw the lights of his reinforcements as they approached, he waved his light, “Over here!”
“How’s it looking?” Colby called through the heavy snow and wind.
“They look okay,” Rip’s teeth chattered, “hopefully we caught it early.”
Ryan clapped Rip on the shoulder, “Thanks to you. Now get the hell out of here and go warm up, Colby and I can take over.”
“I’m okay.” Rip shook his head.
“Don’t be a fuckin’ hero, Rip,” Colby stomped his feet in the snow, “you’ve been out here for too long.”
“I’m fine,” Rip argued, “c’mon, we can finish sooner with the three of us.”
When they returned a couple of hours later, they found John Dutton, Jamie, and Lloyd standing with the vet. Jamie held a binder and pen, while Lloyd and John held steaming mugs of coffee to ward off the chill. Luckily, only the small calf from earlier had developed the respiratory infection.
The vet agreed that the infection was caught early enough and she’d been surprised it had been noticed at all. John Dutton and Lloyd exchanged glances as the vet continuously praised Rip for his observation, saying he most likely saved the Yellowstone tens of thousands of dollars that night alone.
Rip had simply nodded at John’s thanks, with a quick, “I was lucky to see it, sir.”
An hour later, after the hottest shower he could handle, Rip dropped himself into his bunk in sheer exhaustion. He closed his eyes, ready to drift to sleep when he heard his name called.
He cracked one eye open and saw John Dutton standing just inside the bunkhouse, “Want a quick word if you don’t mind.” He said quietly.
“Yes, sir.” Rip resisted the urge to grunt as he stood up. He pulled on his jeans over his boxers, attempted to tuck in his t-shirt, and stepped over to John in the dimly lit living area.
“Everything okay, sir?”
“Wanted to say thank you.” John said.
“Just doing my job, Mr. Dutton.” Rip said honestly, he was never one to seek praise and he was becoming uncomfortable with all of the attention.
“Lloyd tells me you had a good bit of experience before you came here.”
Rip nodded, “About twenty years worth, sir.”
John’s eyebrows rose in surprise and he chuckled, “Wish my kids could say that.”
“It wasn’t really an option for me, sir.” Rip shrugged, feeling sorry for John Dutton in that moment. His children had all left or died, except for Jamie.
“Your dad own a ranch?” John asked him.
Rip closed his eyes briefly, he never liked talking about his past, “Pig farm.”
“A cattle ranch is a little different than a pig farm.”
Rip took a deep breath, “I ain’t worked on my dad’s farm in twenty years, but I’ve worked on every kind of ranch there is, sir, I can certainly hold my own here.”
John looked at him for a moment, finally he nodded, “I believe you, Rip.” He pushed off the bunkhouse wall and moved to the door.
“I appreciate that, sir.”
John turned and watched him another moment. Rip shifted uncomfortably, trapped under the older man’s stare. John Dutton looked as if he was trying to decide whether or not he wanted to let Rip in on a secret.
“Get some sleep, son.” He said finally.
Rip nodded, “Goodnight, sir.”
***
August
Rip sat down on the bunkhouse sofa and released a breath. He’d decided to stay in that Friday night instead of going out with the guys. He rarely joined them, and the nights he did, he would sit at the bar and watch the wranglers make fools of themselves with various women. Rip wasn’t one to try and hit on women in bars, he wasn’t the type. Rip certainly wasn’t celibate, he’d had several flings in his life, if you could even call them flings. He’d usually meet a woman, and if he liked her, he’d usually fuck her, and that was it. Sometimes he fucked them more than once. Most of the time not. He’d never been in a relationship, or in love, let alone wanted to be. Rip was happy being on his own, he needed to be on his own. It was better for everyone. He had more fun watching the lust-struck idiots at the bar, but tonight he’d decided to take some time for himself.
Rip spread his arms across the back of the sofa and leaned his head back in relaxation, satisfied with the week’s work, and his current status with the ranch. He was surprised when he reflected on his time on the Yellowstone, his one year anniversary was fast-approaching. Over the last ten months, Rip had unintentionally become Lloyd’s second in command, the wranglers often came to him for help or questions when it came to ranch maintenance and animal care. Rip didn’t mind, he respected all of the wranglers and especially Lloyd; they never pushed him too far, allowing him his space when needed, and understanding Rip’s quiet nature wasn’t rude, it was who he was. Quiet, observant, but also congenial and convivial when the moment called for it.
Rip was yanked out of his musings when the bunkhouse door was thrown open and banged against the wall beside it with a crack. Ryan was helping a bloodied Jake inside and Colby followed behind holding his wrist.
“The fuck happened?” Rip demanded as he stood up, noticing Ryan’s blackened eye and split lip.
“Some assholes worked us over,” Jimmy said as he, too, limped inside the bunkhouse. Lloyd was the last to enter, stretching his lower jaw.
“What do you mean they worked you over?” Rip snapped.
Jake sat heavily in a chair at the kitchen table while Lloyd reached for the first aid kit, “I was talkin’ to a girl, some dick came up and tried to fuck with her. I pushed him. He and his buddies fuckin’ pounced. Sucker punched me and kept goin’.”
“We tried to step in,” Ryan handed Jake the firstaid kit, “they fought fuckin’ dirty. Broke beer bottles and shit.”
Rip glanced at Lloyd, “Which bar?”
“Johnny’s.”
Rip’s face darkened, he knew the bartender there, he could have easily given him a heads up. That fucker.
“I’ll be back.” Rip grabbed his jacket and didn’t turn around when his name was called. He entered the bar a short time later and made a beeline for the bartender whose face fell when he saw Rip.
“Hey, Rip.” Doug said hesitantly.
Rip leaned in close, his tone low and threatening, “You wanna fuckin’ give me a call the next time someone tries to work over the fuckin’ Yellowstone?”
Doug swallowed, “It all happened so fast, Rip, I…”
“Which one?” Rip interrupted
“Which one what?”
“Which one fuckin’ started it?” Rip snapped.
Doug glanced around the bar, “He’s at the pool table, blue plaid shirt. Wearin’ fuckin’ skinny jeans, his name is Chase.”
Rip pulled out a barstool, “Give me a water.” Doug nodded, grateful to step away from the angry cowboy. He filled up a plastic cup and Rip waited for his chance.
Not long after, Chase sneered at his friends and gathered his winnings off of the pool table, “Until next time, boys. I’m gonna take this to the strip club and go see some titties.”
Rip took one more sip of water and followed Chase outside. He kept his distance until they were well hidden in the parking lot.
“Excuse me.” Rip said, causing Chase to jump.
“What?” Chase glanced around as Rip stomped towards him.
“Let’s see how you do one on one, asshole.” Rip snapped as he shoved him, hard.
Chase stumbled and looked a little panicked, “The fuck did you say?”
Rip got in his face, “I said let’s see how you do one on one.”
“The fuck is your problem, man?” Chase tried to shove Rip back.
Rip’s smile turned into a sneer, “My problem is little pricks like you thinkin’ they can fuck with the Yellowstone and not have to deal with the consequences.” He stepped back from him and beckoned Chase, “C’mon, I don’t wanna be out here all night.”
Chase looked around one more time, and Rip rolled his eyes, “I’m giving you a chance here, bud, take it or lose it.”
Chase took another moment, pretended to turn away, and then made a clumsy lunge towards Rip, fists raised. Rip let him get one punch before he released his anger. He delivered two fast blows to Chase’s face, one to the stomach, and threw him on the ground.
“Stay fuckin’ down,” Rip growled at him, “you ever try to fuck with the Yellowstone again, I’ll come find you.”
“I didn’t know they were from the Yellowstone.” Chase whined from the ground and Rip smiled.
“Now you know.” Rip muttered as he turned away. He heard scuffling behind him and turned just as Chase lunged again. Rip dodged him easily and shoved him roughly on the gravel parking lot, Chase fell with an oomph and Rip wasted no time in kicking him as hard as he could.
“Fuckin’ pussy.” Rip fixed his jacket collar as Chase groaned on the ground, “You remember what I said.” With that, Rip turned away, trying to calm down. He hated dicks like that, and the thought of his friends being jumped pissed him off to no end.
Rip shut his truck off and took a deep breath, coming to the realization of his actions. He sighed, Lloyd was probably going to have his ass handed to him but Rip could not bring himself to regret what he did. The Yellowstone was his home now, and he protected what was his.
“The fuck were you thinking, Rip?” Lloyd demanded the second he walked into the bunkhouse.
“I was thinking that what happened isn’t acceptable.”
“You’re lucky you weren’t jumped. Or killed.”
Rip rolled his eyes, “I knew what I was doing, Lloyd.”
Lloyd stared at him for a minute and then reached into his jeans, pulling out his phone, “Don’t go alone next time.” He murmured to Rip as he put the phone to his ear and stepped out of the bunkhouse.
***
October
Rip was jostled awake by someone shaking his shoulder gently. He opened his eyes and saw Lloyd standing over him.
“Follow me.” He whispered.
“What’s wrong?” Rip hurried to put on his jeans and boots. He threw on the first shirt he found and his jacket.
“Quit yappin’ and c’mon.” Lloyd disappeared quietly out of the bunkhouse.
Rip was still buttoning his shirt under his jacket as he followed Lloyd out of the bunkhouse, past the barn, and into the woods where he saw a firelight through the trees about a hundred yards away from the trapper’s cabin.
A man stood beside the fire as Rip and Lloyd approached, Rip immediately recognized John Dutton and hurriedly tucked in his shirt.
“Evenin’, Rip.” John said gruffly.
“Sir.” Rip glanced at Lloyd who had stepped over to stand beside John, “Everything okay?”
John and Lloyd exchanged glances, communicating through silence as old friends do. Finally, Lloyd nodded at John who spoke.
“Rip, I want to offer you the foreman position on the Yellowstone.”
Rip blinked for a moment, certain he didn’t hear John Dutton correctly. When John made no attempt to repeat himself, Rip looked at Lloyd in disbelief, “You’re leaving?”
Lloyd smiled and shook his head, “I ain’t leaving, Rip, just stepping down. I told Mr. Dutton about a year or so ago that my time was comin’, then you showed up. Fuckin’ fate is what it was.” Rip was shocked, he’d never imagined a promotion, let alone to fucking foreman. He’d only been at the Yellowstone for a year, one year in and already he was offered a key to the city.
He looked down at his feet, then back up, “What about Ryan, or Jake? Colby? They’ve all been here a lot longer than I have.”
“They’re good men,” John Dutton said, “good cowboys. But never once have they shown the leadership and discipline you’ve shown, Rip. It’s got to be you. It’s yours if you want it.”
“If I say no thank you?“ Rip asked, worried this was an ultimatum.
“Then I’d tell you to go back to the bunkhouse and get some shut eye.” John said, “No hard feelings.”
Rip thought about it for a moment, “I don’t know if I could be in charge of you, Lloyd.” He admitted honestly.
Lloyd laughed, “You’re a man who does his job, Rip, and your job would be to be the boss. You can do it.”
“Rip,” John stepped forward, “you should know that a foreman on the Yellowstone ain’t just a foreman.”
“Sir?”
Lloyd looked at John and then back to Rip, “Rip, you love this place don’t you?”
Rip nodded, “It’s become my home.”
John smiled, “And you’d protect your home?”
“Of course.”
“Sometimes protecting the Yellowstone ain’t always legal.” Lloyd said. Understanding settled in Rip’s features and he took a deep breath, they were telling him that he would be asked to break the law. To commit crimes all in the name of the Yellowstone.
“But,” John interrupted his thoughts, “you’d be under my protection, Rip, and my protection spans farther than the fuckin’ state, you understand?” Rip nodded, he understood perfectly.
“Take a minute,” John grasped Lloyd’s shoulder, “think about it.”
Rip turned away and stepped into the shadowy woods, leaves and twigs crunched under his boots but he didn’t hear them. Nor did he hear the owl hooting above him somewhere high in the trees or the fire cracking behind him. He only heard his loud heartbeat in his ears as he considered the proposition. The job offer, as it were. He’d been a drifter most of his life, since he was sixteen years old, going from one place to another. Never staying, always leaving. He’d been on the Yellowstone for a year and it felt more like a home to him than his actual home with his mother and father. Could he live here? Could he protect the ranch he’d come to love even if it meant breaking the law?
Rip looked back at John and Lloyd who were talking quietly amongst themselves. Lloyd nodded at something John said and placed what looked to be a long stick in the fire. Rip respected the hell out of Lloyd, and he’d come to respect the Duttons, as well, he’d only met John and Jamie but he’d grown to like them. Even considered Jamie a friend for the most part. Could he give up drifting? Rip’s knee cracked in the cold, reminding him of his age, he wasn't twenty three anymore playing cowboy Russian roulette in some paddock while a bull ran towards him. He was a grown man and it wouldn’t hurt to hang up his hat for good in one spot. And this was one beautiful spot.
My protection spans farther than the fuckin’ state.
Rip believed John’s words, he was a man who had kept hold of his family’s seven generation ranch and it didn’t take a rocket scientist in this day and age to understand that was no easy task. Rip would be protected, he would have something in his life to protect. Finally.
“Sir,” Rip walked back towards John and Lloyd who waited for him patiently, “I’ll do it.”
“Good to have you, son.” John smiled at Rip, shaking his hand heartily as Lloyd clapped Rip on the back with a whoop, “We’ll set you up in the cabin this weekend.”
“Cabin?” Rip asked, surprised.
“The foreman’s cabin.” John clarified, “Lloyd never wanted it, but it’s yours if you don’t want to live in the bunkhouse.”
“Don’t like to miss the action.” Lloyd smiled when Rip looked at him in shock, “Take it, Rip, you’ve earned this.”
Rip smiled and then shrugged, “I’ll take the cabin.” He’d never had a place to call his own.
John smiled back, “Good.” He turned to the fire, “Oh, and Rip,” he reached into the fire and pulled out a branding iron used for the cattle. Rip looked up sharply, seeing the fire move in John’s eyes. “The Yellowstone comes with a price. And once you pay it, you don’t leave, understood?”
Rip glanced at Lloyd who pulled down his shirt just enough to reveal the faded scar on his chest. The hooked Y resting just above Lloyd’s heart. Rip had certainly seen it before but thought it must have been a drunken mistake. He looked back to John and then to the branding iron.
Well, he supposed he could respect tradition.
Rip unbuttoned his shirt and pulled down just off his shoulders, his muscles rippled underneath his skin, “Understood.” John nodded and handed the iron to Lloyd, then he pulled a wooden spoon out of his jacket pocket and held it out to Rip.
Rip shook his head and was about to refuse when Lloyd spoke, “Trust me.” Rip nodded, he took the spoon from Mr. Dutton and placed the handle between his teeth.
His voice was muffled when he looked back at Lloyd, “Do it.”
Lloyd nodded and stepped forward and John looked on silently, Rip took a deep breath and bit down on the spoon as hard as he could. Lloyd placed the red branding iron on Rip’s chest, branding him to the Yellowstone. Forever.