ace high • rip wheeler (yellowstone)

06

Beck's grip on the steering wheel was harsh, vice-like as he pulled into the lot, fixing the sign out front with a blank stare.
He pulled the keys from the ignition, pocketing them, before climbing out of the truck. As he moved toward the entrance, the sound of loud music traveled through the walls.

The building was filled to the brim with people milling about, nearly toppling each other over. Beck sidestepped a few cowboys, frowning as he narrowly missed the contents of one man's drink spilling down the front of his jacket.

He found an empty barstool easily enough, sitting down with a quiet sigh. He lifted his hand, waving down the bartender, pointing to a beer held by a woman beside him. The bartender nodded, turning away.

"Ditched your brother this time?" A familiar voice mumbled from beside him.

Beck turned to his right, looking up at Rip. He wasn't sure how to respond, gaze darting away to escape the other man's observant eyes.
Rio moved to sit down next to him, taking up an invitation that wasn't offered.

The bartender arrived, placing the bottle of beer in front of Beck with a polite smile. He nodded his thanks, reaching out for the cool drink in an attempt to stifle the newfound heat burning across his skin.

"How are you getting home?" The ranch hand murmured, eyes narrowing at the beer as the other man took a sip from it.

Beck met his eyes, shrugging silently. Rip continued to stare, causing Beck to shrink under the assessing gaze, looking down at his drink.
Rip didn't say anything else, moving to rest his arms atop the bar, leaning forward. He continued to watch Beck's shy eyes.

"Are you here with someone?" Beck asked.
Rip raised a brow at the question, turning to nod at the row of booths nearby.

"They come here practically every weekend." Rip muttered, seemingly dissatisfied by the notion.

The group of ranch hands conversed loudly with each other. Every individual looked significantly inebriated.
Beck spotted Lloyd and Jimmy, but he didn't recognize the others. His eyes traveled over each face, before settling on a shockingly familiar one.

"When did you hire Dale?" He murmured, watching the group intently.

"You know him?" Rip's eyes narrowed, turning to look in the same direction.

"My dad had to let him go." Beck explained quietly, confused. He looked to Rip, finding the other already watching him.
"You think John knew that?"

Rip slowly inhaled as his eyes narrowed, thinking. "Probably." He answered finally, tilting his head.
"Why'd he burn him?"

"He and Cassidy didn't get along." Beck supplied, shrugging his shoulders.

"Is your little brother the messiah?" The dark-haired man muttered, amused.

Beck frowned, turning back to the bar. He wrapped a hand around the neck of his bottle, lifting it to his lips. He ignored the burning feeling of watchful eyes at the side of his face.

"You were set on leaving this place the other night." Rip grumbled cryptically, seemingly determined.

"My dad chewed me out." The blond explained, shrugging again, before drinking his beer in earnest. "I didn't want to stick around."

When Beck chanced a glance at the other man, Rip's expression morphed into something he didn't recognize. He grew uncomfortable in the uncertainty, forcing himself to look back down at his beer.

"Do you know anything about..." Beck began before his confidence fizzled out into near nothingness. "...a dead dog?"

"Can't say I have." Rip's eyebrows knitted together, leaning back in his seat.