"Fuckin' bears." Rip cursed, tearing at the mangled barbed wire strewn across the field.

"Should we hunt him down?" Lloyd asked from atop his horse.

"No. We'll give it a few days and hunt him at night, otherwise we'll cause a scene with the authorities." Hunting grizzlies wasn't allowed. He'd give the beast a few days head start before organizing a hunting party. He stared down at the giant impressions it's paws had left behind and shook is head.

"That's gotta be a huge motherfucker." Lloyd whistles lowly, checking out the size of the tracks.

"Just out luck." Rip grumbled and tossed the wires down in frustration. "Let's head back. Our tools ain't gonna fix this. We need to get materials." Lloyd nodded and turned his horse around, waiting for Rip to join him.

"That girl is still there." Lloyd informed him, though he already knew.

"I'd imagine so. She don't have a car of her own." Rip dismissed the topic. He wasn't sure what to think of her. She was different. Seemed tough as nails, but he could smell fear from miles away and she reeked of it. She was running from something, that much he was sure of.

She was the first girl to share a truck cab with him since Beth, and he felt oddly guilty about that. Just the thought of her made his heart pang with guilt. His final memory of her flashed back in his mind, making his cringe without realizing it.

"You alright?" Lloyd asked, noting the way he looked. His face blanching noticeably.

"Fine. Let's go." He kicked his horse into a run, wasting no time in getting back to the bunkhouse and clearing his mind. He didn't want to remember that day. He wanted to remember her as she was, not how he found her in those final moments.

"I'd rather kill a thousand men, than shoot another horse." He said sadly before firing a single bullet through the skull of the dying animal. Those damn birds were eating it alive. "Now you can fucking eat him!" He waved his arms angrily at the flock that obliged the command eagerly.

Nothing bummed him out more than having to kill such a beautiful animal. He headed back to his truck and sighed. Off in the distance he could see an even larger flock circling some other poor beast. "Fuck." He groaned and headed towards it, sure it would have the same ending. He never expected to come across what he did.

He didn't even bother coming to a full stop before he threw himself out of the door and sprinted towards his boss, the man he considered a father. "John!" He yelled out and slid through the dust to get to him. He was bleeding badly and propping himself against the tire of his truck.

"Help him first." He croaked, barely audible over Rip's heart pounding in his ears.

"Help who?" He looked back and felt his heart sink. A boy, no more than ten, was holding onto a woman and sobbing uncontrollably. "Keep pressure on that." He pointed to the bullet wound on his side as he ripped his belt off and fastened it quickly around John's thigh to stop some of the blood. He ran back, his hat old brown hat flying off and riding the wind over the road. He didn't need to be a doctor to pronounce the woman dead. There were two bullet holes that had pierced her skull. One came out just above her eyebrow and the other at her temple. "Let me help you." He said gently and worked to pry the boy's hands.

"My mommy!" He screamed and tried to reach back to take her from Rip, but he moved away.

"I'm going to put her in my truck and get her some help." He told him. It was a half truth.

"Mommy!" The boy screamed until his voice was hoarse and he collapsed into a fit of shrieks. Rip set her in the bed of his truck and turned, barely having time to move his head before he vomited all over the blacktop. It wasn't that it was a dead body. Hell, he'd created his fair share of them. No, death didn't bother him. Not after all he'd been through. But this wasn't just a body. This was a mother.

"Hey, come here." He went to the kid and grabbed him up, cradling him and bringing him to the truck. "Buckle up, I'll get you out of here." He promised him and let him cry it out. It was no use trying to quiet him, he remembered he couldn't be quieted when he grieved his own mother.

Once the boy was safely inside he returned to John with his whiskey flask. "Here." He poured it over the wound and slapped a clean shirt over it. "What happened?" He rasped, checking for cell reception.

"Van just started shooting." John grunted as Rip began to prod around for injuries other than the obvious. "Blue or grey, I wasn't payin' attention. Shit!" John cursed and cringed as Rip pour whiskey on his leg wound.

"Did you see who done it?" Rip kept him talking, trying to distract him from the pain.

"Masks." John answered. "Rip," he grabbed him by the shirt and forced him to look at him, "where is Beth and Kayce?"

"I can't get ahold of nobody." The words came out literately enough, but they felt hollow to him.

"Jaime." John groaned, trying to sit up straighter.

"I'll check on him, you have my word." Rip promised and put his arms under John, readying to hoist him up. "Up on three. One, two," Rip pulled him to a stand, "three." He helped him to his truck.

"No." John shook his head. Sweat poured from his brow and Rip could only hope it was from the heat and not the over exertion caused by his will to live. "It was Jaime."

Rip stopped in his tracks. "Sir, are you saying Jaime did this?"

"I can't say for sure, but I feel it. One second I was changing a tire for a tourist, and the next a van full of men open fire. I pissed him off today. I pissed him off and he finally acted instead of cowering somewhere." John broke into a fit of coughs. Blood speckled his boots as he choked on his breaths.

"If he sent masked men to kill his father and a woman, then he's more of a coward now than ever." John coughed up blood again, splattering a bit on Rip's shirt. "Easy." Rip steadied him and opened the door, boosting him inside. "I'm gonna get you to a hospital. I can't call the chopper to pick us up." He slammed the door and ran around, getting in and speeding away.

The sound of John's ragged breathing and the boy crying for his mother was enough to drive any man insane, but he could barely hear them over the singular thought that kept him on that road. Beth. He had to find Beth. He assumed her and Kayce were tied up with work, but now he feared the worst.

"Don't let him get away with it." John coughed once more.

"I won't. You have my word." Rip's grip tightened on the steering wheel as he took the roads at maximum speed. There was no time for safety, he needed to get into town fast.

"You know something?" John laughed and it came out forced and unnatural under the circumstances.

"What's that?"

"I took him in, raised him as my own, and he betrayed my whole family." John shook his head, pulling out a rag to dab the blood leaking from the corner of his mouth. "Guess I shoulda been content with the three sons I already had."

The phrase caught him by surprise. "Three, sir?"

"John." John corrected him. "Three sons. Kayce, Lee, and you. I need you to make a call as soon as we get service."

"To who?" Rip swallowed the lump in his throat at being referred to as John's son.

"My lawyer. I need to amend my will, before its too late."

Rip could barely register the cracking words his boss was speaking into the phone. The boy had gone quiet, in shock no doubt, and was reduced to a wide eyed stare in the back seat. He could hear John telling the lawyer to take Jaime out of his will and split the ranch three ways. One third to Kayce, and two thirds to Beth. Two thirds, because Rip Wheeler didn't exist and he knew Beth would split it out to him herself.

It wasn't proper, amending a will over the phone, but the lawyer trusted him and assured John he would make all the necessary arrangements.

He pulled into the hospital in record time and jumped out. "I need help!" He screamed and ran into the hospital doors. "I need help!" A slew of nurses and doctors came rushing to see what the commotion was.

"What is it! What happened!" A woman in blue scrubs came barreling down the hallway.

"Been shot." Rip rested his hands on his knees, bending to catch his breath. "In the truck." He wheezed. "Woman in the back is dead. Her son," he took a deep breath, "her son is in the cab."

They sprinted past him and he could hear the boy starting to wail again as they brought him inside. "I need to go." Rip told John as he was whizzed past on a stretcher. "I need to check on Beth."

"Go." John said, pausing to reach out and grasp his hand. The two calloused palms met and Rip could feel the electricity of devotion shooting through him.

"Wait, Rip!" A doctor jogged over as John was lead away.

"Can't." He turned on his heel, heading for his truck.

"You need to listen to me, wait!" The doctor caught up to him and grabbed him by the arm. "We've had calls within the last hour. There's some sort of explosion that happened at Schwartz & Meyer."

Rip grabbed him by the collar and pushed him against the wall. "What do you mean!" He barked.

The doctor looked at him with fearful round eyes the color of copper. "I don't know!" He raised his hands in defense. "We've had six people brought in by ambulance so far. I don't know anything else." Rip tore away from him, peeling out of the emergency parking lot and barreling down the road.

"Oh fuck." He whispered to himself. Plumes of smoke were rising up into the sky. Big, black, plumes of smoke. The closer he got, the more it defined itself. Flames became apparent, flashing lights of officers, the whir of sirens. "Dammit, Beth." He jumped out and was met with a force of officers.

"You can't go in there Rip." The officer told him, knowing fully well why he was there.

"Is Beth out?" He asked impatiently.

"Not yet, but we have teams inside now scouring the building for survivors."

"Survivors?" He felt a bitter taste fill his mouth. "You best make sure your men get every last fucking person out of that building. Dead or alive." Rip pointed a dirty finger at him.

"We need to get out the survivors first Rip. That's how it works. You can wait over there behind that yellow tape." The cop told him. Rip's eyes flashed in warning. "We're doing our best. We got volunteers and city workers inside."

"Her office is on the second floor. Have they reached the second floor yet?" Rip snapped.

"Not yet. There's people trapped on the first floor still."

"Move!" Rip shoved him and three cops swarmed him. "Bobby, listen to me. You get these fuckers off me now! You get them off and you get the fuck out of my way." He gritted out. The officers holding his arms gave each other indecisive looks. They all knew who Rip was, and they all knew he meant what he said.

"Let him go." Bobby ordered them, and they backed off. "I can't let you in there, Rip. I'd lose my job if I let you run into a burning building."

"You aren't letting me." Rip pulled back his head and let it fly, smashing into the officer's nose with a sickening crunch. Bobby fell back in a heap of whimpers as the others tended to him. Rip lunged for the doors and threw himself inside the building.

"Beth!" he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Beth!" There was flames all around him. Firefighters were ushering people out in herds and yelling at him to follow them. He bolted for the door to the stairwell and hissed when his hand touched the knob. It was burning hot. He pulled his big black boot up and smashed it down hard. The door swung open and a rush of smoke billowed out. "Beth dammit!" He coughed and pulled his jacket over his nose and mouth.

No one was using the stairwell, and for good reason. There was a gaping hole in the ceiling where it lead to the second floor. He hoisted himself up on a fallen beam and leapt onto the edge of the second floor. Bars and beams jutted out from the hole and sliced into his abdomen, but he didn't care. He was on the second floor. He was closer to Beth.

"Beth! Answer me!" He shouted frantically once he'd pulled himself all the way up. "Beth!" He stopped short when he reached her office. A pinkish red stain on the floor with bits of flesh and meat was all that was left of some poor person. They'd mentioned it was an explosion, and now he knew where it started. He felt guilty at the happiness that surged through him to see the bloodied name tag of Beth's assistant. His elation left him feeling hollow when he turned around to search near her desk.

"Beth?" He saw her foot jutting out from behind the desk. "Come on darlin' lets get you out of this mess so I-" His heart dropped. His world seemed to crash around him. It was Beth. She was laying in a pool of blood with the back of her skull cracked open and leaking all around her. Rip crept closer to her, holding back the tears that threatened to spill over at any moment. The blast had thrown her back with such force that she'd smacked her head against the marble desk.

"Hey there darlin'." He cooed softly, lowering himself to the ground to be closer to her. He brushed the hair from her beautiful face. The scar below her eye was all that was left of her attack he had saved her from. He cursed himself for not being around to save her from this one. "I tried to call you this mornin'. I had some news I wanted to share with you." Rip pulled her onto his lap as he rested his back against the blood stained wall. "I went to see Mama's grave today. Pulled her coffin from the earth and told her all about you." He choked back a sob and kissed her forehead. It was cold. Cold, despite the flames that raged around them. "I got you something." He pulled the wedding ring from his front pocket. "Didn't seem right to give you some shitty ole ring from a store that didn't mean nothin', so I wanted to give you Mama's. It'd mean the world to me to see you wearing something of hers." He took her frigid hand and pushed the ring onto her left hand. The sight of it made him breakdown. His beautiful bride to be would never be.

"You look so beautiful, Beth. Like an angel." Rip kissed her head again and sniffed. "I love you so much, darlin'. So much." He strained to pull himself together, but the tears wouldn't stop. It was too much. His little brother, his mama...he couldn't lose Beth. He didn't know if he had the strength to come back from that. "Please," he begged to no one, "please honey. Don't leave me like this. I had so much more to say to you. So many...so many things I wanted to experience with you by my side." He collapsed atop her and let himself give in to his sorrow. "Don't leave me Beth." He sobbed over and over.

The girl was around the back of the guesthouse when Rip and Lloyd returned from their work. She was lighting a cigarette, wrapped in a beige blanket, and for a split second she reminded him of Beth. Beth wouldn't die her hair purple though, and she'd never wear some shitty rock tee and cutoffs as short as those. She had better taste.

He trotted over to where she was and dismounted. The smell of the smoke hit him and he smirked. "Wake and bake?" he commented in a friendly tone.

The girl blew a smoke ring and smirked back. "It was wake and bake at seven. Now I'm just getting stoned."

Rip chuckled at that. "Kayce mention he was heading back out later today?" She nodded. "I'm heading out that was now, just thought I'd offer you a ride if you needed to leave sooner."

"That'd be great actually." She looked over his shoulder and he turned. Walker was trotting up on his horse, clearly finished early with his morning's work.

"Mornin'!" he greeted them.

"Morning." She gave a tight lipped smile. "I'll go grab my bag." She got up, letting the blanket fall off her to reveal her tan legs beneath.

"That your natural hair color?" Walker called before she could slip inside. Rip whipped his head around to stare at him dumbfounded.

The girl took one last hit before putting the joint out on the bottom of her shoe. "What the fuck do you think?" She said monotonously before disappearing inside.

"Walker, you fuckin' idiot." Rip shook his head.

"I was just trying to start a conversation, is all." he shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. "She don't say much."

"Why don't you take some lessons." Rip snapped and grabbed his horse's lead rope. Walker followed suit and put his horse back in the barn with Rip's.

"One of these days, you'll start to like me." Walker grinned at him.

"Not likely." Rip turned away, ignoring him entirely. "Ready?" He called over to the girl as she shut the front door.

"Yep." She slung her bag over her shoulder and followed him to his truck. Rip opened the passenger door, forcing Walker into the back, and then climbed in. "Are we heading straight to the Tankard?" she queried.

"I gotta make one stop before there. It'll take about half an hour or so, and then I'll drop you at Stacy's." He assured her.

"I have some gas money from tips last night." She offered, putting her hand down her shirt to pull out the little bundle of cash.

Rip chuckled humorlessly, starting the engine. "I don't want your money." He said, a tad bit offended she took him for someone that would accept money from a person in her situation. "Pay me back by keepin' Stacy in business."

"I'm Kenna, by the way." She said, almost too quiet for him to hear. He turned to look at her, but was met with Walker's head blocking the middle.

"I thought it was Miss?" He quipped and earned a scoff from her.

"It is to you." She snapped and Rip found himself genuinely smiling at her sass. "He can call me by my name because he didn't grab my ass in a bar." Rip laughed hard and steered them down the driveway. Walker grumbled incoherently and settled back into his seat with a frown.

"I like you already." He decided aloud.