-- THERE'S WORK TO BE DONE.

𝑖.   —   𝒹𝖾𝗌͟𝗍͟𝗂͟𝗇𝗒 . . . is a 𝒉̅𝒂̅𝒓̅𝒅̅ thing to run from.

[inmontana]

# INMONTANA _ is an independent, semi-private multi muse for characters within taylor sheridan's yellowstone universe. this blog is trigger heavy and dynamic focused. TWENTY1+ ONLY. BY BRI, 28, SHE/HER. + CHARACTER DIRECTORY.

exclusive with duhton & in heavy affiliation with rivhers.

GENERAL RULES -.

001. i do not claim the rights to any media found on this blog. i am not apart of creating any of the shows, films, games or novels the characters i write belong in. what i do take pride in, however, are my portrayals therefore i'm making it known that i do not tolerate stealing of any kind. while i don't think i'll have an issue with this — i have in the past so i like to get it out of the way. if you do steal from me, i'll approach privately.

002. i do not follow everyone back. i've been on tumblr for many years now and have learned how best to curate a space for myself that i am happy to be in. it would be a disservice not only to myself but to everyone if i acted as though i could keep up with a quick moving dash by interacting with every single person. for the most part, i tend to follow people back within twenty four hours if i can see us writing together. otherwise i do make sure to softblock unless rules state you'd prefer to be hardblocked to avoid confusion. 003. if you support or condone racism, homophobia, transphobia, white-washing, suicide baiting, bullying or bigotry of any kind i will immediately block you. this also goes for zionists. we have nothing in common and i do not want that energy in my space. this is your one and only warning. 004. in terms of callout culture: i do not partake in it just for the sake of it. i typically do not reblog or engage with callout posts, but if someone is actively harmful to the community as a whole then of course that's different. i'm not interested in watching anyone to try to chase somebody out of a community simply because they don't like them. i am an adult with a mind of her own who can make decisions for herself. just because i don't interact doesn't mean i don't see it nor does it mean i'm supporting or not supporting it. 005. lastly, i am wholly uninterested in jamie dutton as a character and even more am i uninterested in hearing/seeing reasoning for the behaviour of him. there are no redeemable or good traits that you can convince me jamie possesses. he was a legal adult at the time of taking his minor sister to get an abortion and then he proceeded to make a decision, while being fully knowledgeable of said decision, that resulted in her being sterilized alongside of it ALL WITHOUT TELLING HER. that is violating her bodily autonomy and it is taking away the right to choose. again, i need to reiterate because it fucking means something. beth is a minor at this point in time. i'm sorry, but if in the year 2024 there is anything even close to condoning of that shit- keep it the hell away from me, because i will be blunt here: i'm not going to be nice about it. that is, in my opinion, the worst thing jamie did but for the sake of transparency lets keep going by saying that he, on multiple occasions, blamed beth (the sister whom he did this to) as if it was her fault and took multiple digs about children and her inability to have at her expense. he puts his hands on her more than once as well. which. yeah, beth also does to him, and i don't disagree that anyone should be able to defend themselves- i do also think it's fucking weird the ways in which it happens and considering that he has clearly never respected her bodily autonomy i just personally don't care. she's not the only woman he has laid hands on either (a journalist whom he killed and sarah whom he was sleeping with) so one could say it's a pattern. i could keep going about the terrible things jamie has done but honestly, i'm not trying to sway your opinion of him if you still choose to have anything good to think about him after reading that or knowing that. i'm all set with that. all i ask if that you don't follow, don't interact, and quite frankly feel free to block me because it'll save us both the trouble.

[rancheir]

﹙ —❀— ﹚ ˑ ˑ ˑ 𝑒𝑑. / fuck! she should've known something like this would happen, should have anticipated THE LIKELIHOOD of carter intervening with some asshole dude who can't take no for an answer hitting on his sister- even though said sister was more than capable of handling herself. she's leaning against the truck outside the station with her arms crossed, booted ankle crossed over booted ankle and her index finger tapping on her elbow, when he walks out the door. he catches sight of her and beelines her way, but before he can even open his mouth, she's pushing away from the truck door and jutting her head to the passenger side. " get in. " ellie groused, her expression like her mother but her tone like her father as she pulls open the driver's side door and climbs into the cab. " you're welcome, by the way- " for paying his bail, for waiting till sun-up for the sheriff to let him out, and for pulling him off last night before he KILLED the guy. ellie reached over for carter's hand, forcing him to lift it up so she could inspect the damage to his knuckles. " jesus, carter. what were you thinking? " it's rhetorical. she knows what he was thinking. and it's nice, to feel protected. her mama grew up with brothers and ellie had always wondered what it would be like. she just didn't think it'd lead to a night in county jail. " ... you shouldn't've have done that. "

[inmontana]

𓄋 #CARTER, ➢ . . . he knows better than to argue with her. he'll fight for her, until his knuckles are bloody and his rage is spitting from his teeth, covered in dust and grime from rolling around in the dirt at a damn rodeo, but argue? that, CARTER JUST WON'T DO. especially not when she's got that tone and most definitely not when she's wearing that look. he isn't sure which one is worse. which one will come to bite him in the ass quicker. so he doesn't hesitate to pick up his speed, climbing into the passenger seat without so much as a word passing through his lips. only a heavy sigh as the door thuds close behind him. " did you tell 'em? " them being beth and rip; THEIR PARENTS. because that's who they are to the pair of siblings in the ram 1500. the question hangs like a loose bullet, rattling around in his rib cage. would they be pissed? he thinks his only saving grace is that the hand ellie holds is bruised because he wouldn't let her face be the target ... that's what brothers are supposed to do, isn't it? SURELY THEY WOULDN'T GROUND HIS ASS FOR THAT. " wasn't thinkin'. " carter told her honestly. not in some misconstrued way that meant he was all brawn and no brains either. no, he was better than that even if texas seemed to be unearthing something inside of him he didn't quite know how to understand yet. " didn't have to, and i'd do it again. " he meets her eyes as he pulls his hand back into his lap. " i'm not sorry for it either. he put his hands on you. "

[duhton]

⫍ ⨳𝐛𝐝 ⫎ * —there are less than a handful of times in her forty-somethin’ years where she’s felt true fear. the kind that took a’hold of her heart in a vice-like grip so tight, it felt like she were dying. one of those times is now, watching the skies cloud over and BATHE THE LAND in an unnatural shadow- save for the red glare growing larger by the minute in the distance. beth watches it intently, jade stare unblinking and her breath caught in the hollow of her throat … he’s still there. she knows it deep in her bones. and knowing that stirs sickeningly in her guts while her fingers curl around the steering wheel of their truck, her knuckles turning white under soot and ash. carter is quiet beside her, his own eyes flitting between the same valley stretch, and the side of her own face - they sit there in TENSE SILENCE before beth can’t curb the restlessness a second longer, every nerve in her body shot to hell with a cocktail made of adrenaline, grief, defiance and fear coursing through her veins. “ unlatch the trailer. “ she tells him curtly, suddenly breaking that charged quiet as she throws open the truck door and slides to the ground with a thud of her riding boots. “ stay with the horses, baby. “ there’s no forethought to her words or second-guessing her actions. she needs rip. but she won’t take carter to that hell with her. beth’s already climbed up onto the truck-bed when carter opens his door to follow, crouching underneath the trailer to pull out the pin lock. “ no- “ she tells him firmly, without looking his way, predicting what he tries to say before he can say it. “ YOU’RE NOT COMING. “

[inmontana]

𓄋 #CARTER, ➢ he should've known it was coming. should've known she wouldn't sit and wait out the ever-growing haze of red as it swallowed everything they had come to know and love. maybe a part of him did, AND THAT'S WHY HE COULDN'T TAKE HIS EYES OFF HER. he'd proven time and time again over the years that he knew her well. could see things in her that others couldn't see. THIS, isn't quite like that ... because hell, wouldn't anyone want to go into the fire if it meant saving somebody they loved? and carter, he loves rip too, but if rip can't protect the land or himself there's no fucking way he can and he knows— CARTER KNOWS HIS BEST ODDS ARE HERE TRYING TO PROTECT HER. he follows without fight. ( gives her that ) but when the trailer rises & her impending departure grows closer ... he feels it sit harder between his ribs than the smoky air does on his lungs and he can no longer swallow the urge to keep quiet. he comes up alongside the truck on the drivers side. eyes fill with a nameless type of worry. "it's dangerous..." SHE WON'T LISTEN TO HIM. deep down he knows it and even deeper down he doesn't blame her. & there's nothing at all he can do about it. his eyes flit across the determination on her face. the next words more instinctual than anything as they're plead from his lips: "mama, please-"

[inmontana]

rip has been moved to @wheelure <3

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / he said leave. so she left. she's not a pet to keep leashed, hanging off every word he says and begging for scraps from his fucking table. she had a life back in utah. a job she was not just good at, but the fucking best at, and a house that for a while lacked soul until her cowboy showed up at her door- and now that house was packed full of two years worth of memories that far outweighed the thirty-somethin' worth in montana. he told her to GO so that's exactly what she did. did he think she wouldn't? that she'd bow her head and cower and say 'sorry daddy' ... for doing what you told me to fucking do. fight everyone. everyone meant everyone, including his fuck buddy, when that everyone stands in the way of protecting her family.

leaving the ranch was easy enough. she'd shoved all her shit in a bag and left the rest before high tailing it out the drive leaving on dust kicked up behind her. beth had made only one detour before hunkering in for that trek, and that was to find rip. the man who's ring she was wearing even if wasn't on the right finger. 'i gotta go,' she'd told him, and it's DIFFERENT to the last time. after lee died, when beth had felt the weight of grief on her chest threatening to suffocate her. this time, she means it. and that was the hardest part. leaving him in montana when he should be here in salt lake with her, where they made their vows and made love and EVERYTHING that comes with both of those commitments. she should've known going back to the ranch would be a mistake but she'd gone anyway.

and she won't answer her phone when it lights up, her father calling like he has every day for the past week. he asked for this. he wanted it. so he can fucking reap the consequences of the shit he says to her, for once. why should she care if he's lost his best bet at saving the land he covets so fucking dearly? she didn't give a SHIT about it to begin with. " is another brother dead, dad? " she bites when she finally bothers to swipe across his call, putting john on speaker immediately because she can't be fucked holding her cell when she's fixing herself a drink. " god, i hope it's jamie. " not that she considers him her brother. and not that she means the callousness in her tone. if she were TRULY concerned, she'd already know by now. and thought she loves her father more than ( almost ) anything, she wants to hurt him like he's hurt her.

[inmontana]

𓄋 #JOHN DUTTON, ➢ you need to man up, be a part of the solution, or go back to fuckin' utah. those were the words he said. in the moment, he thought he'd meant them— OR AT LEAST THAT HE MEANT THE FORMER HALF OF THEM. by manning up and being part of the solution ... as she often did ... as she always did best ... he saw no reason for her to have to go back to utah at all. and he can look in the mirror and tell himself it's the grief or the illness talking, but the words are his all the same and when he looks into her empty bedroom each morning he's reminded that he said them anyway. his one chance, his only chance, and his only daughter, GONE. it rearranges his innards. peels back the layers of man to find a guiltier version of one. with every phone call, he tries to swallow the unnatural emotion that rises. beth and always go in hand in hand. she always comes to his aid. she always is the one he can count on. she will always fight blood, sweat and tears. always tooth and nail. she always, always, always ... answers the damn phone. now look what he's gone and fuckin' done.

by the time beth does answer he isn't even expecting her to. calls with no hope. it isn't like she'd answer to jamie. kayce's got shit a mountain of things he's already asked to do but won't do. lee's in the dirt of the yellowstone. hell, he almost fucking asked rip and though he knows the cowboy wouldn't ever tell him no, there's something in the air of this damn ranch bleeding through his eyes that john doesn't have the energy to try putting his finger on.

"dammit, beth." exasperation seeps into his tone, with a special kind of relief. it's good to hear her voice but he should have anticipated something other than a hi, daddy ... and that's his own fault. "hello to you, too, sweetheart." he wipes the back of his hand across his forehead. is it sweat or the aforementioned guilt beading in drops? heavy is the head that wears the crown or whatever the hell that saying is. "nobody else is dyin'." call it running a tight ship, but he's sinking his fucking heels into the ground on that one. "was starting to think i should be sendin' somebody to utah to check on ya though."

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / i only care about you. she fucking knows that. of course she fucking knows that. the ring on her finger is evidence enough, his initials tattooed on the inside of her thigh proves that fact or she wouldn’t have the ink to begin with, salt lake a not too distant a memory of him standing at her front door telling her THE SAME THING in different words. i only care about you. yeah, she knows that. it doesn’t curb her ire or balm the agitation beneath her skin like an electric current she’d just been struck by. it’s irrational and ridiculous and she fucking knows that too. she sinks her teeth into her tongue to stop herself from saying anything else but that forethought only lasts so long. fuck me, he agrees, alright darlin’ he concedes and she can hear him until she can’t and then the truck is fucking behind her and she’s bathed in headlights that illuminate the road ahead bar her shadow as she walks. “ i don’t give a fuckin’ SHIT about the sirens, rip. “ she bites back, still walking. she’ll stick to her guns until they’re pried from her hands. she doesn’t care about the sirens. THAT’S THE TRUTH. she’d have broken another bottle on the bitch’s head right in front of the sheriff if she hadn’t learned not to fuck with what’s hers, and let them take her away just to prove she fucking meant it. but she knows, deep down, that rip would’ve hated seeing her carted off in cuffs. she’s too far gone to backtrack. this is their night now … “ you think i won’t walk the whole fuckin’ way, baby? watch me. “ words emphasised with the grit of her teeth over her shoulder before the truck pulls up next to her her and she stumbles aside. she glares. “ rip. “ she mimics back to him. her ire grows with every step she takes, the heels working against her, and she bends down to the side and slips one off, tossing his with some amount of force at the driver’s side door. “ i said no. “ the other heel is kicked off with a little more ease now that she’s barefoot and she redirects herself to the grass beside the road. she’s crazy, not fucking stupid. “ fuckin’ california. “

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ no ... no, he doesn't suspect she'd care at all. when it comes to herself— he knows he's the one doing all the worrying. the idea of watching some guy in a uniform slap cuffs on her wrist and throw her into the back of a cop car is less than ideal. he'd already watch a bouncer or two put her in a choke hold. both of which ... ARE DAMN LUCKY HE HAD MORE IMPORTANT THINGS TO ATTEND TO. like her. or their bar getting raided by the police would certainly be the least of their concerns. line of sight shifts from her, to the road ahead, & back to her. "honey, i don't put anythin' past you." in fact, anyone who did happened to be real fucking naive. she'd walk back to the ranch just to prove a point. he sees this little escapade of hers for exactly what it is. her, proving a point. he contemplates his options. he could beg, grovel and plead. he'd be doing it until he's blue in the face, BUT HE COULD. a futile venture. he could try carving words of wisdom. of course he's never been any good at that. if there's a craftsmanship of words between the two of them, it's certainly not him. hell, he doesn't understand half the shit she says to him. dirty talk ... wouldn't get her in the truck, though it might keep her in the truck— but when she throws the shoe, he knows what he has to fucking do. "fuckin' hell." he tried to be polite. to play nice. to give her a choice. but she's fresh outta chances. he presses on the gas, speeds the truck up, then veers it half-curved in the middle of the street ahead of her to slam it into park. rip doesn't miss a beat. lest he gives her the opportunity to disappear into the montana night. climbing out, he rounds the truck bed and advances towards her. "you're not fucking walking home." his finger juts at her as she backs away, ignoring every single one of her cursed protests. "an' y'not fightin' me either, darlin'. ya already did that tonight." with one hand at her rib cage, the other beneath her ass, he scoops her up and over his shoulder to walk her straight back to where he should've damn well put her in the first place. except he doesn't trust dumping her in the passengers seat just to have to go back around to the drivers side. she'd either make a break for it or leave him fucking stranded. so, he makes for the drivers side and climbs right on with her until they're both inside and she's half strewn on him and the passengers seat. "that's enough now."

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / oh, she’s not worth much that’s for fucking sure but beth would have to disagree on the charge. she’d take the silver bracelets if it meant paws were kept OFF her husband. maybe the brand on his chest ought to be the imprint of her teeth just to really stake her claim but that would mean seeing him shirtless and beth would rather fucking die than let anyone else get that close. and while she knows he’s only thinking about her, her mouth says otherwise when she bites scathingly, “ fuckin’ protect her why don’tcha. “ under her breath. he already pulled her away when she had more punches to throw. he could’ve let her finish the job. a warmth fills her belly at his affirmation. baby, i haven’t wanted anyone else since the day i met you. yeah, she knows that to be true. but it doesn’t soothe the daggers on her tongue or the anger in her blood, she can’t stop the scoff from spitting through her teeth as she stalks away, walking the pavement in heels too pretty for the bozeman dust and too high to make the trek home. she’s making a fucking point, ( and he better watch her ass as she makes it ) … “ the fuck’d you say to me?! “ she growls, twisting to look back at him as she walks ahead and he’s following her as she expected but the harder her steps sound on the cement street, the further the truck gets left behind. “ get in the fuckin’ truck? m’not gettin’ in the fuckin’ truck, rip. fuck you. “ beth’s pace is even and measured as she walks, streetlight above her and the neon signage of main street left behind in her wake. her ears are ringing and her head is pounding as the rage in her simmers in the cool night air and the quiet of montana at close to midnight. beth’s arms wind around her stomach and her fingers curl into the fabric of her dress at her ribs. she hears the hollering of the bar fade behind her and the sound of sirens in the distance but she moves onward like they’re not, technically, meant for her. she can’t hear rip following her anymore and she ALMOST stops to glare back the way she came when she hears the truck engine rev and she rolls her eyes. out of spite, and to be the most difficult she could fucking be, she adjusts her direction to place her directly in the middle of the road. he can fucking crawl behind her for all she cares. she’s not getting in the truck.

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ "i don't care if she bleeds til tomorrow mornin'." and that's the truth of it all. the medics that are surely on the way to her could find a piece of glass lodged into that thick skull of hers, pull it out and watch her bleed profusely for all rip wheeler cared. "i only care about you." it's purposeful, THE ACT OF TELLING HER. what knowledge she has of such a fact is irrelevant. she knows and he knows she knows but the hellfire on her tongue could sure use the reminder ... though, he doesn't think it matters much right about now. she's about as mad as mad can be which is saying a whole lot when attached to beth dutton's name. and that's when he deciphers she's not getting in the fucking truck. a half-breath, half-snort escapes. "fuck me," he repeats with a series of nods. sounds about right. "alright, darlin'." if that's the type of knife and dagger she's wielding he'll pull out a bigger gun. 'cause she might be able to outrun him, but she can't outrun the four by four RAM 2500. especially not in those fucking heels. he lets her go in favour of the truck before he's right back to following behind her. main street glows in the rear view. the big sky state has a lot of beautiful views and maybe, just maybe if this night had gone even a quarter less than what he thought it would they'd have had a chance to enjoy the moon hanging bright in the sky, but as it stands, the moon is the last thing on rip's mind. "them sirens are just gonna get louder and louder." they already are and he hates every second of it. he wants to be putting miles between them and her. "and paradise valley ain't exactly next door neighbours with bozeman." since, y'know— get in the fucking truck, hadn't worked out so well for him ... middle of the fucking road too? she'll be the death of him. "c'mon now." luckily, THE ROAD AHEAD IS DEAD. he swerves the truck to come up alongside the left of her. "beth."

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / she’s all spitfire and hell unleashed, cussing out everyone that dares so much as look in her direction but her eyes set ablaze on sacramento, the bitch had audacity in spades and no fucking brains to make it worthwhile. the bottle to the head was the least of california’s worries- she’s lucky beth hasn’t killed her yet, her hands outstretched as if to curl around a slender throat and beth’s hurling insults one after the other. she’s down for the count, blood and bruises already forming, and beth’s only half satisfied when familiar arms wrap around her waist and haul her away. “ put me the fuck down! “ she yowls, her hands moving to grab at the meat of her husband’s shoulders and attempt at pushing him away, her body twisting and turning to slip out of his hold but he has a firm grip on her and there’s no squirrelling out of it. beth throws curses behind rip, jumping up a little to drape over his shoulder as if to lunge over him ( she would if she could but he is already holding her down and she likes him taking charge but FUCK HIM if he couldn’t wait until she’d had her fix of possessive violence ) “ should’ve shoved the fuckin’ bottle down her whore throat, “ beth grouses as she’s set down, glaring with fire up at rip as he looks down at her and she’s vibrating with uncontrollable rage, an energy burning in her blood that hadn’t settled earlier in the day, it’s now rampant in her system like a high she didn’t ask for. but she’ll relish in it now, with knuckles a little split and blood on her lip. she knows that she could outrun him if she slipped past him now, she’d make it back to the bar and the riot she instigated still going inside before he could catch her … but one look in his eyes and the tone of voice he adopts when he talks to her has her hackled haunches easing. he’s only protecting her. he’s only ever protected her. “ fuck me, fine. “ she gives in, pouting and frowning and crossing her arms across her still heaving with exertion chest. but that fire in her eyes only simmers and flares with his words as he crowds her in and ushers her towards his truck. she stands her ground, her head tipping back a little further as he gets closer and she narrows her eyes. “ y’taking me home, are ya? not HER? saw you smilin’ when she was all fuckin’ over you, rip. did y’wanna fuck the bitch? go on then, GO FUCK HER. “ hand splays across his chest and she shoves him with all the strength she has in her before gesturing wildly to the bar down the street. beth turned on her heel and instead of going for his truck, she stalks right passed it. “ forget about takin’ me home, i’ll fuckin’ walk. “

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ she could've fought him a hundred times over. every kick, every writhe, every elbow and hollering all the while. it wouldn't have changed the trajectory of his actions. his goal would, AND DOES, remain the same. with her feet firmly planted back on solid ground, he thinks he should've just carried her all the way to the truck and tossed her down inside instead though ... her mouth could run all kinds of wild, then ... but they tend to say that about hindsight. better ideas surely. sure would've been nice if his foot was pressed led heavy down against the gas pedal right about now. "she ain't worth no manslaughter charge." the words taste like hypocrisy, but he tries not to think about that. those were different times. not that he'd do anything different because of something stupid like time and age. he's rage and fire and calamity all the same for her too. in their state of surrender his hands shift back a little. as if to say, easy now, when she doesn't move an inch. he'd known it from the minute she sauntered back into the lodge. it was all a bad fuckin' idea. only to be reaffirmed by that damn dress. a dress that wasn't meant for no damn bunkhouse. and then again ... when he said no. AND HE REALIZES: all this, because he said fucking no. shoulders bloat with a heavy breath. looking down into her eyes, rip shakes his head. "baby, i haven't wanted anyone else since the day i met you." his thick, low voice reiterates; as if she doesn't already know that. he knows she does. she's just pissed & itching for a fight. when she stalks off though his hope for an easy win after the bloody brawl comes to an end. should've fucking tossed her in the truck, rip thinks again. he grouses. jaw clicks. teeth ground together with the knowledge that this night is far too gone for any real saving. and just because this wife of his looks damn good walking away doesn't mean it's good for him in any damn way. she doesn't get far though. he's too quick on her trail. "beth, please - get in the fucking truck."

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ he watches the clock. each minute feels like A FUCKIN' HOUR. it's grating ... and rip has half the mind to park the truck and go in to see what's taking so damn long ... but he doesn't think that'd help anyone. if he can't see her, it'd just piss him off more. in turn, the glowering, sullen cowboy he'd become would then piss off whatever law enforcement he came across. it wasn't a good concoction. SO: HE WAITED. and waited ... and waited ... until ... the second rip sees her, he climbs out, & the anger between his teeth grinds thicker. his wife, spending the night in a jail cell? yeah, it ignites a horned beast inside of him. oddly enough, though, he recognizes the relief he feels first. how a tension unwinds itself from his knotted spine. it will be short-lived, alive again soon. but laying eyes on her has done its trick. AS ALWAYS. "'bout fuckin' time they let y'go." he'd been right there all night just in case. even if it was wishful thinking.

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ his only goal was to get her out of the bar and into the damn truck. perhaps in hindsight he could've come up with a better way to go about it. IN THE MOMENT, HOWEVER ... carrying her with both arms kicking and flailing sure seemed like the only way. something or other about going out the same way one was born into this world. that sounded a whole helluva lot like his wife. once out into the cool, brisk night air, a ways down from the bar entrance where he'd parked the truck— rip sets her down. but he doesn't let his guard down. he remains vigilant. half of the cowboy expects beth to flee at the first sign of escape. hell, rip doesn't even know what was said to her, and he doesn't need to either. whatever it was, HE KNOWS IT WASN'T GOOD. he holds his hands up. not in defense, but in surrender. "don't go runnin' back in there on me now." though his tone is grave, serious; because getting her home is the most important thing. he'd much rather that than see her taken away in cuffs ... which he's willing to bet is exactly the plan if they wait around for flashing lights. "c'mon." he takes a step in towards her with a nod to the truck, hoping to usher her. "i'm takin' y'home baby."

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / she’s vindictive now, a little cruel, but she really would’ve given him more in the morning … it’s been a long day, an even longer day still to come, and that little homestead in dillon had given her some kinda sense of relief. the promise of a home for them to lay down their roots after digging them up here. the ink was already drying, the i’s all dotted and the t’s all crossed. dillon was theirs. what else did he need? “ baby, i’ve got a million’n one plans in motion at any given time’ve the day. my web’s the size of texas. you really wanna get caught up in it now? “ a warning, veiled and half-hearted. only because she knows when shit gets stuck in his head, he won’t rest until it’s dealt with. and she needs him well-rested. a sigh passes through her lips as she inches her body backwards into his side, shifting to her stomach so she can turn her head into the pillow, blonde hair left untied and loose and framing her face in it’s usual effortlessly messy state. she blinked at him tiredly. “ what’s there to know, rip? we gotta go somewhere if we can’t stay here. now WE’VE GOT somewhere to go. or would you have had me campin’ out in the forest til the day we die? “

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ the words lapse in his mouth, a little slow to come, with a lot of rearranging his soul to be spoken. the money has never been any of his business. he doesn't ask, because he doesn't care. because that's not the type of man he is nor will it ever be. it isn't a pride thing. not an ego thing either. rip, he's a real simple man with real simple wants ... and her buying a ranch without even a word to him soothes something unsettled in his chest. the type of money it takes to do that though ? he knows beth isn't nickle and dime-ing it just to watch him run pairs under another montana sunrise. she did it for him. now, she'll get her teeth sunk into him for it too. she wants her sleep and she wants him to ask and she wants him pressed right up against her while she's doing. the pads of her fingers press into her hip, heel of her palm a little tougher, as if letting her know: i know exactly what you're doing. "think i've had worse views than you on a forest floor, darlin'." the words coddled behind a tired chuckle. her words keep replaying in his head ... well, that's a relief. i bought it this morning. against the pillow, his head shakes, and he drags his free hand over his face. he finds the will for at least one question. "how long you been spinnin' this web in particular hm?"

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / oh boy, she knows what he's doing. knows HE knows what he's doing. and she only blinks languidly at him as his fingers sink into her hair and she smothers a smirk with narrowed eyes. she's not a fuckin' dog, she won't be placated with a pat to the head and a belly rub ... even as she leans a little further into the palm of his hand. " nothin' to elaborate on, rip. " and OH, she knows she left him with a computer full of questions but she'd also told him explicitly that she'd tell him more tomorrow. midnight is not tomorrow enough. " i'm tired baby, can't i give you somethin' in the morning? " and he'd see mischief in her eyes if he turned his head to look at her, a teasing glint that proves she's being intentionally difficult. drawled suggestion comes with the closing of her eyes as she moves to roll over, turning her back to him. if he wants answers, he'll have to work for them. she won't make this easy.

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ it works, if only for a half second. of course he didn't anticipate anything less. she's all fire and hell water and he's no exception to her flickering flames. he learned this long ago. they have been ingrained in each others souls since the moment they'd met. it doesn't surprise him that she can read his every action like a book. just like he knows when he meets her eye that she's hook, line and sinking him ... AND SHE'S DOING IT ON PURPOSE. she is the most infuriating woman he has ever met, but she is also his. he wouldn't have her any other way. except when she turns away. then, well, he'd have her any way but that. INSTANTLY, hands search for her. "this your plan all along was it?" he grouses. get him all bent up and out of shape. grovelling for her to curl her warmth back into his. a reminder of how much he craves it too. all while she's got their future lodged in her back pocket with a stack of spare change in the form of bills he's never bothered to ask about. "don't be like that now." a flat palm soothes over her hip. "beth ..."

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / she's already got it all plotted out in her head, every piece of the puzzle meticulously placed just awaiting the final piece and only beth knows what that piece is. she feels a little more settled now, grounded in a way she hasn't felt since she pulled up at the governor's house to a barricade and condolences. maybe she'll actually get some sleep tonight, accustom she's become to a DECENT NIGHT'S REST compared to when she first came home some five years ago. laid out on her back, blanket and sheets pooled low around her hips to keep her cool, she's lightly dozing when he finally joins her. it's instinctual to roll into his side when he lays down, her hand moving to wind around his stomach and she sinks a little deeper into the pillows and the mattress, finally content to succumb when he breaks the silence with an almost question. beth sighed. " s'what i said, " is all she offers back with a slight grumble, brow pinching as she reluctantly opens her eyes and watches the side of his face as he stares at the ceiling. she doesn't ask anything of her own. she'd said she'd talk tomorrow. this is not tomorrow.

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ it's well past midnight by now. he's right back to sober. a couple beers in the bunkhouse aren't enough to keep his belly warm for long anyway. he'd had to sit with the information, give it room to breathe, to digest before he managed to tear himself from the great room. DISGRUNTLED, and confused. and in love. the exasperation built into his brow. settled deep into his bones. he doesn't ever pretend to know even half of what she does, but more often than not he finds himself stumbling over that of which he doesn't know when she finally lets him in. "yeah, yeah, i got that—" he agrees gruffly. his fingers twine up into her blonde hair, massaging, petting. like he knows she'll need to keep settled. "but y'didn't do no elaboratin'." judging by how comfortable she's gotten, HE DOESN'T THINK HE'LL GET MORE ANSWERS TONIGHT. but he's certain sleep will evade him if he doesn't try. "baby, y'gotta give me somethin' here."

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ from the moment he closed the laptop his brain had been ticking. she has always had a way of dropping things on him, but hell— this was one hell of a thing for her to drop. little house, big barn ... seven thousand acres plus some twenty odd in a blm ... sure sounds pretty, HE THINKS. & it's a good damn thing he did, because she'd already bought it anyway. that's the part that gets him. the part that had him heavy sighing, half-fighting an exasperated type of smile he's only ever worn when attached to her name, and the other half of him fighting a roll of his eyes. so many questions taunt the tip of his tongue as he lays flat on his back in the bed. he doesn't even know where to begin let alone if any are worth asking at all. the spider in her web is always ten steps ahead. his body bloats with a breath ... thick & heavy through his nostrils ... "y'said forty miles west of dillon huh-"

[duhton]

"the fuck made you think i would?!" devastation and rage broils together as she stares at the smooth cut of his jawline. her eyes flit over his face but they fall back down to his mouth and her scowl intensifies. she loves him, SHE SWEARS, she loves him. but right now, she wants to kill him. trying to find even one thing to soften the blow of this personal slight, beth can only look at the crinkle of his eyes- they're the same, at least ... but even without looking, she can't let it go. "dumbass." bitter and petty, beth hit the back of his hand and slipped through the gap he's crowded her in to. her arms move to cross DEFIANTLY over her chest. "well, until it does fuckin' work rip- don't touch me." usually, she'd happily climb him like a tree at any given time of the day or night, in any state of dirty or tired. but looking at him and his clean shave, beth crooked her jaw and clicked her tongue. "y'fucked my day."

[inmontana]

𓄋 #RIP WHEELER, ➢ he tries to hide the chuckle that threatens to escape, knowing she isn't kidding in the slightest— she's pissed & he knows it. "oh, c'mon now-" he reaches for her as she shifts from his cornering. it's not his brightest idea in the book. the second his fingertips brush her waist again ... he braces for what he imagines will be the hellfire she's known for. "'s'that bad huh?" he hadn't thought so. not when he looked in the mirror. if he was really pushing his luck, he would've taken her hands and held them up against his jawline. but he doesn't have a death wish. "just hair, baby." he squeezes her hips in his hands, stalking a few steps closer, peering down at her with a grin. "it'll grow back. y'really want me to stay away that long?"

[duhton]

... ﹙ @inmontana ﹚ ʊ / there's nothing you can do about it, the best lies are ninety percent true and i'm the best fucking liar, you leave jamie to me ... words still lingering on her tongue as beth formulates how to implement them best, standing back in the kitchen with her sister-in-law after her brother handed her the confirmation she needed, but already knew the truth of she's known since it happened, even longer really. jamie was always the rattle snake in their tent whose head they should've cut off when he first tried to bite them. one arm wound around her waist, the other pressing the rim of her coffee mug to her lip, beth's already IN THE TRENCHES when her eyes meet her mother's and she instinctively stands a little straighter. " would you check on ellie please, " she follows up, glancing at monica as she nods and takes her leave, a small thankful smile to her mouth as she feels the heavy weight of tension fill the room with just the two of them. beth says nothing else as she watches her mother carefully, taking in the sight of a broken woman in mourning, and she can only respect evelyn for still breathing now. but they're both mothers, and she knows that's only the case because of her and her brother- if it weren't for ellie and she'd lost rip, beth'd crawl into the ground right beside him laid to rest.

" here we go, " she breathes lightly, bracing herself for hell. she loves her mom, she does. despite those years of her childhood that left them at odds, beth does love evelyn. but she was always a daddy's girl, her father's favourite ... he's gone, and beth's trying not to feel like the scared little girl calling out for him in the middle of the night to CHASE AWAY the monsters under her bed.

you always have a plan, and she's not wrong. beth has contingencies for the contingencies to her plans. she doesn't react, expression carefully clear of giving anything away until HIS name is brought up and she can't help the sneer, the way her mouth thins and the muscles of her cheeks twitch with the clenching of her jaw. it's no secret that beth loathes the pathetic excuse of a man that once was her brother. their estrangement didn't taper that or soothe the hurt of what almost was ... thoughts turn over in beth's eyes as she watches evelyn carefully, her index finger gently stroking the ceramic of her cup before she makes a decision. she shrugs. " i'll handle it. " beth will always handle it. and she says it a little tersely, but it comes from a place of genuine care in a few days, her mother will bury her husband beside her eldest son and while beth's grief is all-consuming, she can only imagine what evelyn's must be like. she can't help but feel like it's her responsibility now to protect what's left of her family, her mother included. evelyn doesn't need to know the role her son played in the death of her husband. but IF SHE PUSHES, if she really wants to get involved in the fight, beth will tell her. but " you don't need to be a part of this, mom ... "

[inmontana]

𓄋 #EVELYN DUTTON, ➢ it's harder to speak when she doesn't know what to say or how to comfort— or maybe it's the knowledge that there isn't anything she can say to offer any consolation at all that has kept her tongue so still. especially when it comes to beth ... it was no secret that she and john had their favourites. AND BETH WAS JOHN'S, & maybe that's why evelyn's felt compelled to watch her a little more, has managed ellie even when she'd rather lay curled up in the place john once slept all day , and has even given her the floor to do as she needs in whatever way she needs to ( as time has forced evelyn to learn how to do with her only daughter ) even when she feels a push for the first time to not let the space between them grow any bigger. first time meaning: what she once knew was the right thing to do, NO LONGER IS. and evelyn recognizes as much.

see, death like a chattering gnat in her ear. it came too quickly. it claimed too much. john wouldn't want the roaring fields of green between them to double in size in his absence. that's not the type of grief she wears either. hers is bone deep, tired to the marrow. she thinks she sees a livewire in beth's. it flickers something human inside of her ... something she thinks her teeth need to sink into too, lest she forgets what it's like to really be alive at all.

"i didn't ask if you'd handle it. i know you will." a singular nod follows her words as if to confirm the truth she knows she speaks. "just like your father knew." she scrunches her nose at the mention. the words slipped through her lips before she even realized they were coming. half-baked, ALL EMOTION; a crack in them. but if there's even a chance that beth doesn't know, she hopes to stamp it out with her kicker boot. her eyes lift to add reassurance. sincerity in striking blue. her fingers curl and uncurl around the counters edge while her free hand tucks strands of blonde behind her ear. there's a bottle somewhere itching with her name on it, she's sure. maybe after this conversation she'll need it more than ever. only time will tell. "i've been watching all of you ... and doing nothing ... and—" the anger grows in her jaw. she'll be picking it out of her teeth come nightfall. "my children are a part of this." HER AND KAYCE, as she heard. "and my husband is DEAD." her one request had been for people to not act like that wasn't true around her. she didn't want sugar powdered sympathy or honeyed tiptoeing. john was dead and he was never coming back. "i'm already a part of this." it makes her wonder about the things she doesn't know even more. what the flames behind beth's eyes are for or the storms behind kayce's. there's a revelation brewed like morning coffee. she just hasn't figured it out yet. "tell me."

[inmontana]

𓄋 #EVELYN DUTTON, ➢ she has asked very few questions. IN FACT, SHE HAS SAID VERY FEW WORDS AT ALL. not on purpose, not ... without purpose, either. the words have all felt wrong in her mouth. it oddly felt like all of the times she had waved john off from speaking when he hadn't fully processed his thought all the way through & she could tell. you'd do well to think that one through, darling, is what she'd say to him. sometimes he'd talked like his mouth was already full. so much bravado, so much passion, but nowhere to put it all. evelyn lacks the bravado now. the passion dead and gone too, left alone with his body in that cold celled chamber she knows it's laying in. FOR HER IT'S: so much grief, so much anger, but still ... nowhere to put it all. and she doesn't have to look at her daughter to know there is the same thing swelling in the crux of their cores.

when she catches the tail end of a conversation she's sure she isn't meant to hear from the top balcony of the great room, however, it becomes ever more certain. she seeks out beth on her own accord. of course she could have went to kayce. IF SHE ASKED, KAYCE WOULD TELL. he'd tell it true too. a version of the truth that makes sense to his heart, or whatever version of his heart he's trying to appeal to to make sense of it all ... she knows that boy too well. but beth? beth will not only tell it true but she will also tell it best, and she will know the most, and evelyn— evelyn has never had to question that. ( nobody in their right mind would ) "give us the room, please, monica." evelyn requests. the woman listens with a gentle touch to evelyn's arm. saddling into one of the kitchen chairs, she expels a heavy breath between her teeth. "you always have a plan ..." NOT A QUESTION. "i think now's the time i would like to know what it is." and so beth didn't feel blindsided later on, she adds for good measure with a steely bite to her tone: "& what jamie has to do with any of it."