#duhton

[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."

[wheelure]

﹙ *  𓃗  ﹚▌▌ —he hears her heels on the great room floor before he sees her. somewhere between wake and sleep, AND HE THINKS ITS THE FIRST REAL BIT OF THE LATTER HE'S GOTTEN IN A FEW DAYS. ( a damn shitty excuse for slumber if he ever did see one ) but every time rip has gotten himself close to dozing off he finds himself wondering: will she need me? will tonight be like that first night... EXCEPT HE'LL BE SLEEPING RIGHT NEXT TO HER & NOT EVEN KNOW IT. the weight of death sitting on her chest too hard. too heavy to contain. breaking those walls he knows so well to down into pebbled dust and exposing all the pain he sees in her eyes. with her away, on a short flight back, he manages to catch maybe half an hour. he has to, IF HE WANTS TO KEEP ANY SEMBLANCE OF HIS SANITY. until her presence stirs him back awake. because, after all, she's not only one whose pissed. only a low grumble as he sits up on the couch announces his presence. when he blinks his eyes open, her finger is already pointed at him. "oh, christ, i warned ya." & he did: WARN HER. in more words than rip wheeler usually uses for just about anything. but what he should've done was get on that fucking plane with her. regret won't change the past though. he's settled that part of himself a long time ago. "an' i warned 'im too." meaning, he's heard from travis. the warning was for the next time he saw him though. he nods to the chair across from him for her to sit and join him. "walk me through it."

[everyroute-arch]

this house is the resting ground for all things that go bump in a dutton's night. unbridled anger & thrown fists. heartstrings & vocal chords shredded in the name of a five letter surname. a mere harbinger for secrets and things that turn innards inside out. he's been here and he's been in the trenches and some days he finds himself mulling over the complexities of their shared nuances. where he would usually only consider such things in the restlessness of his mind he finds himself pulled to understand how the weight of a father and sons argument (one of which is not his own-) could shake the walls as though an explosion had taken root in their very own kitchen. there's only one other person who hadn't been present. one other whom he could turn to at all to impart yet another piece of knowledge that he doesn't know. the unbolting of a lock echoes inside the cellar of his rib cage. he has to find room to store it all somehow. once the tears of his brother have finally dried on his shirt, he seeks out the sister for all that remains— HANGING QUESTION MARKS. “ hey- ” he says quietly, joining her like they're meeting at hell's gate. thinks the front door would open its mouth and rear its fangs at them in welcome every time if it could. or maybe that's just his own reflection when he catches it in the rearview mirror. “ you got any idea what that was about? ” at least some things never change: beating around the bush is only ever good for horseback. he doesn't ask her if she heard it. doesn't need to. but she has the option to leave him as in the dark as everyone else if she wants to. / @duhton,

[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-"

[inmontana]

rip doesn't know if the long drive made his addled thoughts better or worse. he swears he missed entire stretches, with nothing but land whizzing by him in blurs- not a single view worth taking in that he could see for miles and miles because the only view he really gives a damn to see had still been hours away. the radio is off now as he sits outside her place. key out of the ignition. engine quiet. at one point, he'd had the fuckin' thing so loud it shook the ram as he pressed his foot heavier and heavier on the gas just to try and stop one singular word from beating the drum to death in his head. married. beth, married. or getting married. or thinking about getting fucking married. somewhere between montana and utah rip forgot the context. he has no idea what he's rolled up to. her cars in the driveway, and that's good enough for him. in fact, it's the only car in the driveway. even better. it means daniel isn't home or maybe the guy doesn't live here at all. it's not like rip would know. all he knows is the two of them are always running on borrowed time together. borrowed and spent to every last penny. taking all that he can, or all that she'll give him, and he's learned to be okay with that. convinced himself he made peace with the everything and nothing that exists between them a long time ago. it never changed the way his heart had a four letter name engraved on it when their time together would inevitably come to a close each time. but now- now, there's a cliff side as big as the damn mountains in the valley where all of their everything happened and their names looked a little too much like the edge of it for his liking. a screeching halt with nowhere to go but down. and rip, rip knows there's nothing but darkness waiting at the bottom of a cliff side. it scares the shit out of him. it carries him to her doorstep. it lifts his hand, and has him taking the biggest inhale of his life in attempt to swallow down the emotions that even such a long drive hadn't managed to tamper down. now or never, he thinks. after all, if it's true- he needs to hear it from her. she has to be the one to tell him. and then that fear encourages him to knock in the same way it encouraged him to avoid calling her the entire way. they're better than phone calls and all the damn miles that have existed between them. she's worth more than that.

[inmontana]

𓄋 evelyn and beth edits , ➢ @duhton !

[inmontana]

it's a rare occurrence, him shaving his beard, but seeing as spring was turning into summer faster than that damn sun could rise and set and all those sweltering hot afternoons would be right around the damn corner -- rip thought maybe now was the time. it always grew back like a weed anyway. little did he know it wouldn't grow back fast enough this time. he'd heard the front door open and close just as he finished up. "y'left and came back before i even made a coffee. that's new." he jokes over the running of the tap, washing the few strands of hair still left behind down the drain. usually it's him coming and going bright and early. then, he joins her in the kitchen, hand squeezing at her waist and lips pressed to her hair. no hair nor stubble scratching at her skin. "morning, baby."

[inmontana]

— / surprise semi-plotted starter , @duhton .

it all happened so fast. what was supposed to be a quick stop in to bring up some supplies for john certainly took a different turn than rip anticipated. he'd heard the yelling before he even made it to the door. a surefire sign of chaos. in the year since beth called him from salt lake to tell him about the boy she wrangled into her home -- THEIR HOME, he never once heard the kid raise his voice. carter'd had a few slip ups. the kind swaddled in grief and unsteady footing and adolescence. something rip knew like the back of his hand. still, it was quite different from the riled up, arms flailing with tightened fists and curse words cutting between gritted teeth that he was met with when he stormed into the lodge that night.

he said he put his hands on her! he hit beth! his grip had loosened on the kid momentarily. not enough for carter to have any chance of getting away but just enough for jamie to have cowered a little further away than he already was from a preteen. eyes like sharpened knives and a spark to gasoline. if he didn't have a kid to worry about and a wife who he had no idea where she'd gone off to ... HE WASN'T SURE HE COULD BE HELD RESPONSIBLE. something of which, in the fit of rage carter couldn't swallow down, carter mistakenly let slip: she's YOUR wife! do something! and the last thing to be said had been rip's lowly not now, sir to john as carter finally let himself be hauled from the lodge.

settled back in the foreman's cabin, rip holds the phone between his shoulder and his ear, breathing a rugged, "c'mon, beth, answer the phone." he hadn't liked what he'd heard. it churned a rampant kind of anger deep inside of his vessel, but as he looks to the kid across from him -- calmer, but not yet calm ( vibrating on the edge of his seat as if waiting for rip to lose it so they could lose it together ) -- he tries to bottle it up. though if she doesn't answer the phone, rip isn't sure how much longer he can hold out. but there's a lot more at hand than he can handle on his own right about now.