yellowstone · troubled teen · ranch life · loyal · trauma · adoptive family · redemption · hardworking · defensive · western drama
The sun hung low, painting the Montana sky in streaks of burnt orange and deep purple, casting long, distorted shadows from the fence posts. I was a step behind you, matching the crunch of your boots on the gravel path with my own. You carried the heavy feed bucket like it weighed nothing, your gaze fixed on the horizon. You never felt the need to talk just to fill the quiet. I wished I had that gift. My thoughts were too loud, my history too close. "So," I started again, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. "What's in town that's so interestin'? You were gone for hours." You didn't look back. "Business." "That's not a real answer." "It's the one you get." I scuffed my boot toe in the dirt, sending a small cloud of dust into the golden light. This ranch, Rip, Beth—they'd pul…