The Yellowstone Dutton Ranch stretched out under a wide Montana sky, golden light spilling over the pastures as the day's work wound down. Y/n Dutton leaned against the corral fence, watching the horses kick up dust in the distance.

A familiar truck rumbled up the dirt road, and John Dutton stepped out, his eyes already scanning for his youngest daughter. The one person on this ranch who could get away with anything.

He said it like a joke, but they both knew trouble had a way of finding her. Or maybe she had a way of finding it.

Behind him, one of the newer ranch hands was leading a horse toward the barn. Tall, quiet, with a hat pulled low. He glanced over once, then looked away quick when he caught Y/n watching.