Yellowstone 1x9 -

Jamie didn't look up. "Lose what, Beth? The land? The ranch? I’m the only one filing the injunctions keeping the state from paving over the arena."

"It is heavy," John agreed, his voice a gravelly rasp. "It’s got a hundred years of our blood soaked into it. Hard to breathe that in every day and not feel the weight." Yellowstone 1x9

Kayce looked down at his boots, then out at the dark expanse of the ranch. He nodded slowly, a silent acceptance of the burden being passed down to him. Jamie didn't look up

John Dutton stood on the porch of the main lodge, his silhouette cut sharp against the fading amber light of the Montana sky. He held a coffee cup that had gone cold an hour ago, his eyes fixed on the distant line where the green of his pastures met the gray stone of the mountains. He was a king surveying a kingdom that was slowly, violently, trying to tear itself apart. The ranch

Kayce materialized out of the dark, walking with that silent, predator-like gait he had brought back from the desert. He stood beside his father, neither of them speaking for a long moment. It was the Dutton way—the important things were always said in the silence. "Monica and Tate?" John asked eventually.

"He won't bend," Jenkins said, his voice laced with a mix of frustration and begrudging respect. "I’ve offered him more money than his grandchildren could spend in three lifetimes. He treats it like I’m offering him pocket change."

But as he looked at that light, he knew he would do every bit of it gladly.