The Ranch

Train station, Montana, north of the nearest town to the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Dante was waiting quietly for the person who would come to pick him up and take him home.

He had four siblings, and he was the youngest at twenty-one years old. When his mother died, he was just a year old, so he had no memories of her in all the recovered fragments.

But he knew many things. His biggest concern at the moment was the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, land for which he would fight for his family, a family that was slowly descending into madness.

As the name suggests, the owners of the ranch were the Duttons, who had managed these lands for many generations.

This was a family with over a hundred years of history, and the family's founder, James, along with his wife Margaret Dutton, chose this place specifically because of their daughter Elsa, to lay her to rest.

This ranch was founded in 1883, and, to this day, the same family still owns this land, which is currently considered the largest ranch in the United States.

Dante Dutton, who was returning home after being sent to New York to study at Columbia University, which he had chosen to start his business, was now back. His business had become the most prosperous in the city so far.

But now he was coming home because he wanted to expand his honest pub business in Montana and help his family with all the challenges they might face.

...

A black Dodge Ram 3500 Gen III was speeding down the road that led to the Yellowstone Ranch.

The yellow Y-shaped Yellowstone marks on the side door would let everyone in Bozeman, the fourth largest city in Montana, know which family owned this truck.

Want to steal a truck? Slash the tires? Break a window? The best advice everyone could take is not to touch this type of truck because if they were caught, they wouldn't end up very well.

This truck that had picked up Dante was driven by a burly man in his thirties.

He was dressed in dark blue jeans, a black shirt, and a black jacket that belonged to the ranch, along with a black cowboy hat that covered his brown hair.

In addition to his black sunglasses, he had a straw between his teeth that he constantly twirled. Dante was sitting in the passenger seat.

Dante Dutton, on the other hand, was young, handsome, and muscular. He had deep blue eyes and dirty, tousled blond hair that he usually cut shoulder-length, though he'd worn it shorter on multiple occasions for convenience.

Of course, this description came from himself, as he compared himself to this cowboy who had never left Montana, wondering if anything had changed.

The two sat in the truck in silence. Rip was driving and staring straight ahead, while Dante, sitting in the passenger seat, glanced sideways at the scenery outside the window.

He knew Rip didn't like to make much noise while driving, so he hadn't spoken since getting in the truck.

But Dante's mood was somewhat restless, and if anyone had looked into his eyes, they would have seen they were unfocused from lack of sleep.

The things he remembered were more beautiful than he could have imagined. This place was so stunning that wherever he looked, he was met with vast green fields.

He had followed the plans old Dante had set, and now he was heading home to spend time with his father, John, who had become increasingly lonely over time.

He supposed this was due to his mother's death. She was the backbone of the Dutton family, and after her death, every bond had fractured.

Dante knew what he would face upon returning home, and, fortunately, he was prepared. He didn't know if he would be a cowboy, as he wasn't passionate about horses, but he would be whatever his family needed at the moment.

Old John, the farm's owner, was stern, showed little love to the point of contradiction, was selfish, and no matter how much you did for him, in his mind, it was just enough.

Since his wife's death, he only cared about the farm, and he was determined not to sell a single inch of it because he had promised his father he would keep it.

The eldest son, Lee Dutton, was a good man, honest, kind, and just, just as his father expected him to be. But he forgot one thing: he didn't need someone to run the ranch but a leader to guide it in the right direction.

The second son, James, in Dante's memories, was cowardly and selfish, a man who would do anything to benefit himself.

He longed for love, but where on earth did old John, whose heart died when his wife did, get that from?

At least Dante had given up on that. He learned to let go to live a prosperous life.

The third daughter, Beth Dutton, was possibly the one he cared for the most in terms of personal care. John loved her dearly, no matter what she did or said. To him, she was the queen of the family whom everyone should protect.

Then there was the family's black sheep, Kayce Dutton, who left the ranch after getting his now-wife pregnant at too young an age.

Dante didn't know if he had returned from the army, nor did he care much about his siblings since they hadn't cared about him when he was younger.

But despite all this, the family remained loving when necessary, except their kind hearts were now all closed off with anger, bitterness, and helplessness.

The only way to change all of this would have been if their mother, Evelyn, hadn't died, but he couldn't change what had already happened.

"Wake me up when we get home. I haven't slept at all," Dante said as he reclined the black seat back as far as it would go.

Rip glanced at Dante and said, "I will."

...

"We're here, Dante."

About thirty minutes later, Rip parked the truck, shifted the gear lever next to the steering wheel into neutral, turned off the engine, and reminded Keith, who was still asleep.

Dante opened his eyes, now more relaxed, looked around, and said, "Thanks, Rip."

Rip smiled slightly at Dante and couldn't help but say, "Did the New York girls treat you badly?"

"Believe it or not, I've never jumped from woman to woman. I prefer stable relationships." Dante said this half-truthfully, half-lie. The truth was that any girl who wanted a relationship with him would stop if he revealed what he did for a living.

"Yeah, with that face, I doubt it."

"Well, look who's back. You've become quite the man."

Dante turned around and looked toward the aging voice that had spoken to him. "You look as good as when I left, Lloyd."

This old man had been with the family as a cowboy for over thirty years. You could say he was partly the one who taught him when his father wasn't around.

"Don't believe it. Any moment now, I'll stop being as strong as I once was. But I think I'm still stronger than many younger men."

Dante smiled faintly and asked, "Where are you headed at this hour?"

Lloyd stopped his horse, rested his hands on the front of the saddle, and said, "Your father has a couple of young horses. We've been breaking them all morning, but one isn't very obedient. Want to help me?"

"Aren't you overestimating me?" Dante hadn't ridden during all the time he had spent in the city, so he might have forgotten a few things.

"I don't think so. You're young and strong. I taught you everything I know, so I think you can do it." Lloyd glanced at Rip with a discreet smile, and both looked at Dante, waiting to hear his decision.