Chapter Text
Chapter 6 - Choices
During and Post “Acceptable Surrender”
The day started, as most days did, full of potential.
Rip had woken up earlier than usual to a robin’s song and the tickle of a warm breeze through the loft window. Beth was pressed tight against him, breathing deeply, features soft and relaxed. He could have climbed out of bed and gotten a head start on his list of things to do, but he had lain there until the last possible minute instead, watching her sleep. Despite the great pains he took not to disturb her when he eventually had to move, she had stirred and slipped a hand down the front of his boxers. Ignoring his half-hearted protests about the time, she teased him lightly until he groaned and gave in, stripping back the covers and rolling on top of her.
By the time he had showered and dressed, she had made coffee and was out on the front steps, wrapped in a blanket, staring out over the open fields. Even though he was already late, he paused for a moment to enjoy the gorgeous view with her. Afterward, as he cut across the field toward the barn, dry grass crunching beneath his feet, Rip marveled at how idyllic his days had become. Waking up to his girl. In his bed. In his house. Leaving her sitting on his porch.
It was perfect. Maybe, he mused as he drew further and further from the cabin, a little too perfect.
He should have known it couldn’t last.
Rip hated hospitals. Hated everything about them.
The harsh chemical smell struggling to overpower the pungent odor of blood, sickness and death. The cold, sterile white walls, scratched vinyl floors and molded plastic chairs. The jarring clatter of aluminum trays full of medical supplies and the rattle of gurneys transporting patients contorted in pain. The anxiety. The despair. It all made him feel claustrophobic, trapped, caged.
The memories didn’t help either.
Moments from a lifetime ago. Sitting in a curtain-lined cubicle, banging the heels of his battered high tops against the legs of a chair as he waited for his mother to get a set of staples to close the gash in her scalp. Balancing on the edge of a stretcher, distracting his tearful brother with silly faces while the doctor put a cast on his thin arm. Rip had had his own fair share of injuries, but no matter how painful, they had always hurt less than listening to his little brother scream in agony and his mother make excuses.
“He’s still in surgery.”
John Dutton mercifully cut Rip’s melancholic trip down memory lane short as he sunk onto the chair to his left, the worn plastic cracking sharply beneath his weight. Across the aisle, Lloyd was slouched, dozing, hat over his eyes to shield them from the garish florescent lights.
Rip ran a weary hand over his beard, noting absently that it was overdue for a trim. “Not a good sign.”
“No. Probably not.”
His boss had aged ten years in the last several hours, the circles beneath his eyes darkening exponentially, the lines in his face creasing dramatically. He had insisted on following the ambulance to the hospital even though everyone had encouraged him to return to the Yellowstone with Kayce and his family.
“Where’s Beth?”
Rip inclined his head in the direction of the glass doors that exited to the front of the hospital. “Went outside to get some fresh air.”
The ER waiting area was surprisingly quiet for a Friday night. A woman with two toddlers and a baby took up the majority of one full row on the opposite side of the room, the baby fussing in her arms and toys littering the floor at her feet. A bald man in dirty coveralls clutched an elbow wrapped in a bloody bandage. A young couple sat beneath a TV streaming CNN, the woman’s head resting on her boyfriend’s shoulder. The sight of the man’s hand protectively covering hers reminded Rip of something he had been eager to clear up before Jimmy's accident.
“Sir, I wanted to, uh, apologize.”
John had leaned back in his chair, fingers linked behind his head. He raised an eyebrow expectantly but said nothing.
“I should’ve told you that Beth and I were, uh, seeing each other.”
“Seeing each other, huh? That what you’re calling it.” John’s lips quirked up into the ghost of a smile. “Rip, I’ve known there was something going on between you and my daughter since you were both fifteen years old. I’ve got eyes everywhere on this ranch. You think it didn’t get back to me that she was sneaking into the tack room at night?”
Face flushing, Rip averted his gaze, staring intently at a streak of mud on the floor. “Maybe so. But you still should’a heard it directly from me.”
Hesitating, he searched for the right words to convey exactly what Beth meant to him, but his feelings for her were so vast it was impossible to articulate. He opted for a promise instead, hoping it would be enough.
“You know about my dad . . . the way he was, the things he did to my mom. And you know the things I’ve done. There’s violence in my DNA. That’s the truth.” Lifting his head, Rip met his mentor’s eyes with intense sincerity. “But I need you to know that I’d never, ever hurt her.”
He held his breath as John regarded him carefully for a moment and then nodded slowly.
“I know that, Rip. I thought anything different, you wouldn’t be seeing my daughter.”
Relieved, a weight melted off his shoulders. Across the room, the baby coughed and began to wail loudly. His visibly exhausted mother rummaged around in a bag on the neighboring seat and withdrew a bottle. The piercing sound severed that thread of conversation and offered him the opportunity to change the subject to something less awkward, which he gratefully accepted.
“Sir, it’s after midnight. Why don’t you head back to the Yellowstone? Lloyd and I’ll stay. I’ll call you when Jimmy gets out of surgery. Nothin’ you can do in the meantime.”
John opened his mouth, presumably to object, but quickly snapped it closed after a glance at his watch confirmed the hour. Pushing off the metal chair arms, he levered himself up to standing with a groan.
“I’ll go, try to get a few hours of rest. Then I’ll come back to relieve you. No matter what happens in surgery, the boy ain’t going anywhere soon.”
Rip nodded once sharply in acknowledgement. “Take Beth with you, will ya? No point in her stayin’ here either.”
“Tried to get her to head home an hour ago. Didn’t fly.” Smiling dryly, John struck out in the direction of the restrooms. “You convince her by the time I get back, I will.”
He found Beth perched on the concrete retaining wall that ran along the walkway to the Emergency Department. A tall black metal lamppost shot up to the heavens behind her, its yellow light illuminating her profile. She was looking away, toward the parking lot, legs swinging slightly as they dangled down, a cigarette in one hand. As the night had progressed, more and more hair had escaped from her ponytail and a blonde fringe now brushed the nape of her neck.
She was so beautiful. That was no secret, but it still hit him like a load of bricks sometimes.
He wasn’t the only one who noticed her. Another man about fifteen feet in front of him got to her first. He was short and stocky, clad in scrubs, his blonde hair slicked back and shiny as if fresh from the shower. A doctor probably. Or nurse. He stopped in front of Beth and tried to engage her in conversation. When she eventually turned to look at him, eyes sparkling wickedly, she said something that had the other man holding up his hands and backing away in surrender. Rip grinned.
f*ck he loved that woman.
Tonight was meant to be their “first” date. With everything that had transpired with Tate, they had never made it to that music festival in Three Forks. So when he called her that afternoon, enroute back from summer camp, and told her about the rodeo, they had decided to seize the opportunity. He had picked her up at the main house, bouquet of flowers in hand. When she had opened the door in that pretty blue dress and jean jacket, his heart had skipped a beat or two or ten.
They had dropped Lloyd and Jimmy off at the rodeo and went out to dinner. It had been awkward at first, their first foray as a couple in the outside world. Before today, they had primarily spent time together, in secret, on the ranch. This was a whole new ballgame and it had taken them a minute or so to figure out the rules. For most of his life, Rip had wondered what it would be like to be in an actual relationship with Beth. Now he knew.
The reality was so much better than anything he could ever have imagined.
As he drew closer, Beth rubbed her chin on the shoulder of her jacket.
“Any word?”
“Still in surgery.” Rip shook his head in exasperation. “Goddamn Jimmy. I told him, he wanted to ride for a paycheck, learn how to rein or rope. Don’t be bronc riding.”
“Kids," Beth murmured with a shrug, extinguishing her cigarette on the concrete and tucking the butt back in her case. "They think they’re invincible.”
“He doesn’t f*ckin’ listen.”
Smirking, she hooked a finger in his belt buckle and tugged him forward until he was standing between her legs. The toes of her boots brushed against his calves.
“Reminds me of another kid I knew once. How many ribs did you break again, winning this buckle in a steer wrestling competition?”
Rip laughed, irritation dissipating slightly. “Enough.”
“Exactly. For a cowboy Jimmy’s age, it’s all about the buckles.” Beth jerked her chin at something behind him and he turned to see the dark-haired woman who had been talking to Jimmy at the rodeo lingering outside the hospital doors. “And the buckle bunnies.”
“Great. Just f*ckin’ great," he groaned, dragging a hand over his face. "That’s the last thing that boy needs, buckle bunnies comin’ around the bunkhouse.”
Rolling her eyes, she poked him playfully in the stomach. “When did you get to be such a grumpy old man?”
“Mhmm. All I'm gonna say is, I ever have a son, he’ll learn roping and reining. He even thinks about bronc or bull riding, I’ll kick his ass.”
A shadow flitted across Beth’s face but then departed so quickly he figured he must have dreamt it. Slipping her arms under his jacket, she hugged him fiercely, resting her cheek against his chest. Surprised, he tangled a hand in her hair and held her close, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head. She was stiff at first and then eventually relaxed into him, slumping slightly as he rubbed her back and shoulders.
He was just about to ask her what was wrong when she straightened and drew back. The automatic sliding doors of the ER had parted for John Dutton and he was ambling in their direction. The time for any exploratory conversation was over. Intoxicated by her, he had nearly forgotten his mission.
“Look, your father’s goin’ home for a few hours. Why don’t you go with him?”
Pressing her palms into the ledge, Beth frowned. “No. I want to stay with you.”
“Nothin’ you can do here, baby. No point in us both sittin’ around.”
“We’re supposed to be on a date. Which means you’re supposed to bring me home.” In the darkness surrounding them, lightning bugs flashed and then vanished, like dying stars. “Not that it would probably be the first time I’ve been out on a date and Daddy has ended up tracking me down and dragging me home.”
“I’d say that’s a pretty safe bet,” Rip agreed with a chuckle, brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes. “We ain’t very good at this dating thing, are we? We can’t ever seem to get it right.”
“No, we can’t. It’s the story of our relationship, Rip. We do everything ass backward.” Her smile was a warm caress in the cool night. “Guess that’s what makes us special.”
He wanted to kiss her then. More than he had ever wanted to kiss her in his life, and that was saying something. But the looming presence of John Dutton stopped him. It was one thing to hold his daughter’s hand in front of the other man, another thing entirely to be kissing her. The envelope had already been pushed just about as far as it could go for the day.
Beth hopped down off the ledge and Rip took a step back to insert some space between them, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans to keep from touching her.
“Well, this isn’t really the way I planned for this night to end.”
“Oh you had plans, did ya? How’d you think this night was going to end?”
Her sweet smile morphed into a devilish grin as she stood on her tiptoes and whispered something incredibly erotic in his ear. Blood rushing south, Rip had to turn to the side so he could adjust himself without John seeing.
“Jesus Christ, Beth. Not in front of your father.”
Laughing, she turned to face John, who was now only a few feet away.
“My chariot awaits I hear.”
Her father gestured in the direction of the parking lot, truck keys jingling in his hand. “After you, sweetheart.”
Showing none of the same compunction about affection in front of her father that had inhibited him, Beth gave Rip a kiss that lasted longer than he ever would have dared. As they drew apart, he fought the urge to suggest she sleep in his cabin, so that once this sh*tty f*cking night was over, he could crawl in beside her and hold her in his arms. That would be a mistake. He had avoided asking anything of her since she returned from Utah, sidestepping all mention of tomorrow, or the next day, or beyond. He knew the consequence of crossing that line. She would run away and things had been far too good to risk that happening. He had been focusing solely on the moment at hand, hyper vigilant of making any comment that might cause her to flee, and it was paying off.
Tonight was not the night he was prepared to take a gamble. So despite what he wanted in his heart, Rip stuck with a familiar send-off, the same one he had used when he left her sitting on the porch that morning.
“I’ll see ya.”
Running her fingers through his beard, Beth nodded.
“You will.”
On the way back into the hospital, he ran into Travis Wheatly, almost literally.
“What the hell’re you doin’ here, motherf*cker?”
An orderly pushing an empty wheelchair approached and Rip and his friend stepped off to the side to allow her to pass.
“Breaking a colt . . .” Travis pointed to his left arm, securely cradled in a padded sling. “. . . and the little bastard broke me.”
“f*ck.” Rip let out a long, low whistle. “You’re obviously getting too old for this sh*t, man.”
“Eh, he won this battle but I’ll be winning the war, let me tell you.”
Adjusting his hat, the other man winked at a pair of scantily dressed co-eds who stood a few feet away. As they batted their eyelashes and giggled, he returned his attention to Rip.
“You seem to be in better shape than I am, so what the f*ck’re YOU doin’ here?”
Sobered by the reminder, Rip sighed heavily.
“One of the Yellowstone wranglers, Jimmy, remember him? Kid can barely ride a f*cking merry-go-round and he decided it’d be a good idea to get on a buckin’ horse at the rodeo. Bronc cleaned his clock. He’s still in surgery.”
Travis shook his head in disgust. “Stupid little sh*t. He makes it out of this in one piece, you should send him to me for a few months. I’ll get him whipped into shape.”
“Not sure what’ll happen to him after this.” Rip glanced through the glass doors into the waiting room. Awake now, Lloyd was rifling through a newspaper. “That’ll be up to the boss.”
At the mention of John Dutton, Travis smirked.
“Yeah, speaking of the boss . . . saw you looking awful cozy with his daughter just now.”
Rip stifled the goofy smile that always threatened to erupt at the thought of his lady love. “Yeah.”
“About time. You been mooning over that woman ever since I met you. It serious?”
A swarm of bugs, attracted to the bright hospital lights, began buzzing in his ears. Rip swatted them away. “Serious enough.”
“You gonna pop the question?”
Caught off guard, he choked out a surprised laugh. “I don’t think Beth Dutton is the marrying type.”
“But you’ve thought about it.”
It would have been a lie to say he hadn’t. The night before, as they slow danced out in the corral, in their own private bubble, she had looked into his eyes with an uncharacteristic vulnerability that had nearly undone him. The words had been on the tip of his tongue then, so very close to being uttered.
Marry me. Be my wife.
But it was too risky. He kissed her instead and she wrapped her arms around his neck and he just held her, savored what she was offering. That would have to be good enough.
For now.
“Still with me?”
Realizing that Travis was staring at him, Rip gave himself a mental shake and answered the original question honestly.
“Yeah. Thought’s crossed my mind.”
“Figured. You’re an old f*cking romantic at heart,” Travis chortled, wincing when he bumped the elbow of his injured arm off the stone pillar bearing a “No Smoking” sign. “Would love to be a fly on the wall when you have that talk with JD.”
The mere thought of asking John for Beth’s hand in marriage made Rip break into a cold sweat and he felt tension creep into his shoulders.
“Yeah.”
“Gonna put him in one hell of a position, ain’t it?
Suddenly feeling apprehensive, Rip fiddled with the collar of his shirt.
“Whaddya mean?”
“Well kinda lose-lose for him, right? He’s either got to give his baby girl to another man, one of his own employees no less, or he’s got to alienate his best damn wrangler by sayin’ no. Man, wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.”
Now that thought HADN’T crossed Rip's mind. He had always known that when . . . if . . . the time came, asking John for Beth’s hand would be a part of the process. How he would do it, what he would say, remained an elusive mystery to be solved at another time. And he had certainly never gotten so far as to consider the position in which that might place his mentor, the man he owed his life. The man who had given him a chance when no one else would have.
Is that a choice that he could ask John to make? He wasn’t sure.
Rip barely registered Travis punching him in the shoulder and sauntering away. He stood in the same spot for a few minutes after the other man was gone, staring blindly into the flowering hedge on the other side of the entrance. The warm glow of contentedness he had been infused with for most of the day had been snuffed out, leaving him chilled and questioning. As he moved through the doors to re-join Lloyd in the waiting area, the vague sense of disquiet that had been brewing since his walk into work that morning, that ever present fear that things were simply too good to be true, deepened.
Another shoe was about to drop.
