sunrise to sunset (ryan yellowstone).

are you staying long?

Rip didn't like people in general and he especially didn't like new people.

He trusted Mr. Dutton with out a doubt but there were times when Rip needed to do things to secure the safety of the ranch. Things that he was vague about to his boss. Not to keep in him in the dark, but just enough so if something happened to him and the world went to hell in a hand basket, Rip would be the the only one to go down in a spiral of fire.

That was why the idea of a new person on the ranch that Mr. Dutton just seemed too 'find' was beyond suspicious to him.

Rip rounded the side of the house, not wanting to step through the front door. He wasn't family and being inside the ranch was a luxury he didn't necessarily want to get use too, no matter what Beth said to him.

The gravel walkway crunched under his boots as he followed the wafting smell of breakfast as it curled around the house.

He faulted in his steps for a moment before pressing on. It smelt damn good.

He took note of the usually closed kitchen door as it was propped open to fullest. After spending the last 20 years on the ranch, he'd very seen it left that way, ever.

Even if he was about to confront some riff raff he's need to drag back to town, he always remembered the manners Mr. Dutton instilled into him. As customary, Rip removed the black hat from his head, before stepping a foot past the threshold. 

Laurel froze when she heard boots enter in the kitchen. They sounded different than Mr. Dutton who walked with a slight wobble to his left leg. It made the sound of his boots hitting the tiles slightly uneven but Laurel liked how it made his sound so easy to pick up.

These foot steps were harsher, powerful. They screamed no bull shit.

She kept her head down as she worked to finish what Mr. Dutton asked her to do.

The steps paused on the other side of the counter and Laurel slipped her hand around the edge of the knife still in her pocket.

Rip let out a heavy sigh through his nose. "If you thought I would be seeing you in here..." a whistle sounded between his teeth.

Laurel turned slightly to see the man from last night. The same black jacket on his shoulder and same black hat at his side.

He waited for her to say something and when he didn't he grumbled under his breath.

"I guess it don't matter much."

He scrubbed his hand across his beard as he tried to quell his anger with closed eyes.

The sound of ceramic hitting the counter then sliding to a stop in front of him, snapped them back open.

He looked at the cup filled with fresh coffee. The liquid sloshed dangerously to the side from its movement before settling into a glassy surface that was only interrupted by the curl of steam.

Rip looked at the cup and up to the woman. She was a small thing, still huddled in her jacket and the hat on her head. The bruising across her face looked different in the light and it could do with a bit of icing.

He accepted the cup and brought it up to his mouth before pausing.

"Still got your knife?" He asked.

A thud filled the quiet kitchen as she embedded the weapon into the wooden cutting board in front of him.

He smiled as the action didn't damage the wood as it followed the grain pattern perfectly. It was like nature drew a line just for her to follow it with a blade.

She had a good eye, that was sure.

She left it there and turned back to the oven where she pulled out another tray of biscuits and placed them on the opposite counter to cool.