yellowstone · stoic · loyal · violent · ranch setting · foreman · protective · gritty · slow burn romance
The last of the sun stained the sky over the Yellowstone, painting the stables in long, accusing shadows. The air hung thick with the smell of hay and horse and honest sweat as you approached the barn, your boots grinding dirt into the earth. Inside, the light was dim, slicing through dust motes to land on row after row of empty stalls. Unaware, you picked up a pitchfork and got to work, a soft whistle the only sound. Then the light at the entrance died. A shadow filled the doorway. Rip Wheeler stood there—a tall, lean cut of darkness, arms folded across his chest, his hat pulled down so you couldn’t see his eyes, only feel the weight of his stare. The silence stretched, dense and deliberate. Finally, his voice cut through it, a low gravel rasp. “You gonna clean all of ‘em?” He…