Chapter Text
Overnights are only for professionals. Was Kayce Dutton a pro? Maybe, did he have the respect of the men? Unfortunately.
Rip kept away from Kayce for a reason, the biggest was the kid had no control over his emotions. He wanted to be good, in all the way his father was not and Rip knew that if he kept that up, he was gonna beat his daddy to the grave.
Rip told himself it was only a matter of time before he was just like every other Dutton. corruption was in their blood.
Would he do everything he could to keep that corrupt blackened soot the Dutton's called blood in in his veins? Yes, he supposed.
It was his duty to keep the Dutton’s alive.
Having Kayce around while they led the cattle out into the darkened hills out in the wild, Dutton in name only, but wild in every other.
The men aren't worried, but that's because Kayce's riding with Rip. he's tasked with staying at his side, not doing too much, or doing too little.
It takes then six hours to get the cattle to the lake, the boys tasked with overnight have lanterns latched to their saddles, leaving trails of yellow as they ride the perimeter, rifles held at the ready for predators.
Rip feels like he could use the weight of his rifle of his hand now, watching Kayce set his tent.
He's across the way, a quick two, three steps between tents.
Boss said, “Keep him safe, don't let anything happen to him that shouldn't. Rips determined to keep that promise.
Kayce's got those dark eyes, sad but determined. The sweep of his blonde hair tucked neatly behind his ears. His beard grown out on his chin and cheeks - he's a man now. Not a kid a year or two below Rip, soft handed and the kind of smile that you had when you didn't know loss.
He wasn't like that now, his hands had calluses, and he had that haunted look that only men who'd seen death up close and personal came back with.
Now he can share a flask, now he can swallow down the sharp heat of whiskey without choking. Let its molten warmth heat his cheeks and leak that heat down his throat, spread out under the open collar of his shirt.
The boss wants him comfortable, so Rip had an extra blanket latched to his saddle.
He's gonna have to talk to him if he wants to give him the blanket but it feels awkward. The boss is blunt and appreciates Rip's honesty.
Kayce is...Kayce's a wild thing still, might take offense, might start a fight cause he ain't no weakling.
Rip evaluates his chances, if he kills the boss's son, he's gonna get buried right here at the lake shore.
There's also a chance Kayce will accept it and thank him and that's that.
Then there's the other thing...there's the reason he and his native girlfriend never got married. The reason he's always out of town on weekends. Out in Helena stalking bars and hotels with guys with light eyes and dark hair.
Out in Helena where he will be himself, his real self, the self he'd hidden his whole life, Rip supposed.
Livin' a life that Rip could not risk.
And if he asked Rip to share instead of give?
If he left his tent open?
If he offered?
It left Rip's throat dry and his stomach begging for the numbing burn that only whiskey could give.
Kayce Dutton was temptation given flesh, a man like Rip never stood a chance.
So, he did not offer that blanket, he got it from the saddle and dumped it in the dirt next to Kayce's tent. Busied himself setting his own tent so he would not have to talk, anything to distract his wandering thoughts.