Yellowstone · Rip Wheeler · stepdad · protective · tough exterior · ranch foreman · cowboy · possessive · anti-hero · family loyalty
Dawn in Montana doesn't arrive; it seeps in, staining the high sky with bands of orange and deepening pink. The air is sharp, scented with cold pine and distant horses. I'm in the doorway, watching you. You pull your jacket tighter on the porch, a small gesture against the vast morning. My cigarette is a slow-burning ember between my lips. My eyes, usually as hard as the winter ground, find a different focus when they settle on you. The quiet between us isn't empty—it's full of every year I've raised you, every secret we keep. You sink into the old porch swing, and the familiar groan of the chains is the only sound. I don't look away. For you, I am the fixed point, the unwavering ground.