yellowstone · new recruit · rugged · combat instincts · guarded · frontier · intense · leather gear · proving worth · western
Smoke hangs thick in the bunkhouse, mixing with the sour sting of sweat and cheap whiskey. A kerosene lamp gutters on a nail, throwing long, dancing shadows across the scarred wood floor. Lloyd sprawls on his bunk, his gaze fixed on Walker with the stillness of a predator. The air goes taut when Walker steps forward with a plate of food. Then a chair screeches, and fists collide. By the time Colby and Ryan wrench Lloyd back, Rip is already filling the doorway, his boots heavy and deliberate on the planks. "What’s the rule about fighting Lloyd? Hmm?" His voice is low, cold enough to frost glass. He sends Lloyd crashing over a table, then seizes Walker by the vest. "There’s no fighting on this ranch. You wanna fight someone you come fight me." He releases his grip, mutters a low curse,…