ace high • rip wheeler (yellowstone)

04

Beck lifted an arm, placing the back of his hand against his open mouth, stifling a yawn. He allowed himself to lean further back in his seat, the familiar rock of the saddle nearly causing him to drift off.

"Here we are." Billy's voice startled Beck out of his reprieve. The old man pulled his horse to a stop at the side of the dirt road that connected both the Harrison home and the Dutton's, climbing off the animal and landing with a quiet thud. His sharp eyes gave the fence a once over, before he decidedly moved closer.

"Are you... hopping the fence?" Beck murmured, eyes darting around, fearful of onlookers.

"Yes, Beck." His father bit out, clearly annoyed, as he unfastened a small stool from the side of his horse.

"...Why?" Beck spoke after a moment, watching as Bill set the stool up at the edge of the barbed-wire fencing.
The older man huffed, dropping his hands to fall exaggeratedly and hang at his sides as he looked up at his son.

"We're going to put these," Billy's hand dug in his back pocket, pulling out a pink stake flag, and waving it haphazardly about. He turned around, pointing at the other side of the fence with the flag aggressively. "Over there!"

"You're marking the property line." Beck murmured blankly.

"Yes." Billy answered, voice filled with intent. He stepped up onto the stool, eyeing the fence.

"Why?" Beck hissed, glaring at the back of his father's head.

"This should have been ours a long time ago, Beck, and you're asking me why?" His father rounded on him, frowning.

"Doing this..." Beck gestured toward the field with a tired hand. "It's not legal, Dad."

"Like hell, it's not legal." Billy argued, placing a hand at his hip. "This is my land!"

"And that's why we need to use lawyers." The younger man urged quietly, eyeing the yellowing horizon.

"Wyatt knows how important this is, why can't you?" His father spoke lowly, turning back to the fence. He stared at the structure for a moment longer, mumbling to himself.

"Why didn't you bring Wyatt, then?" Beck muttered, swinging a leg off of his horse, and lowering himself onto the dirt.
Bill ignored him, still studying the fence.

"You have wire-cutters in your bag?"

Beck's lips parted in shock. "We're not cutting the fence."

The older man frowned for a second, before pointing a determined finger at the ground.
"Then get down on your back and slide under that last rail of wire there."

Beck eyed the space between the barbed steel and the ground, brows furrowing.
"You're... serious?"

"Yes, now move, quickly." Billy urged, waving his hands wildly with an annoyed scowl.

The blond widened his eyes, in silent disbelief as his lowered himself to the ground, moving to lay on his back. He exhaled, holding his breath, before shoving himself underneath the barrier. His shirt began to ride up, sharp barbs prodding stubbornly into his abdomen.
"Jesus, fu—" He breathed out, baring his teeth, and sliding onto the other side. He huffed out a pained sigh, groaning as he lifted himself back onto his feet.

"Hurry," his father muttered, waving the stake flags over the fence.

Beck snatched the objects out of the other's hand without giving the man a second glance as he turned to stalk into the field. He kneeled, jabbing the flag aggressively into the ground before standing. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, peering at the tree line in the distance.