"I don't know about this." Beck muttered lowly, placing two forefingers at the crease of his cowboy hat as he shoved it further down.

"It's a Friday night, live a little." Cassidy rolled his eyes, annoyed, as he shoved past the crowd near the entrance of the bar.

"Dad wants us up early." The older reminded, reluctantly following.

His younger brother didn't seem to believe that Beck's statement warranted a response, ignoring him as he led them toward the bar.
Cassidy let his elbow rest atop the top of the bar, throwing up a peace-sign at the bartender with a grin. "Two shots of tequila, please."
He turned around, nearly toppling into a man sat at the bar beside him.

"Jesus," The man muttered, reeling back, with a grimace.

"Oh, shit, sorry." Cassidy kept that stupid smile on his face.

"Harrisons." An older man beside Cassidy's victim muttered, either amused or disappointed. Beck frowned, studying the aged man's mustachioed face before his cheeks colored in realization.

"Sorry, do we know you guys?" Cassidy laughed, furrowing his brows.
Beck rushed to Cassidy's side, patting his chest with a placating palm.

"Sorry, Lloyd. He's a fall risk." Beck muttered, causing the ranch hand to chuckle.

"It's alright." The man reassured, nodding to the younger man beside him. He looked rather new as Beck was familiar with most of the ranch hands the Dutton's employed. Evidently, Cassidy wasn't.
"This here is Jimmy."

"It's nice to meet you, Jimmy." Beck offered a hand, which Jimmy swiftly reached for, shaking it firmly.

"Same here." The man murmured, smiling crookedly.

"Where's the older one?" Lloyd raised a brow, eyeing the space around the two men.

"He doesn't need to know about this." Cassidy smiled, grabbing the tequila atop the bar, downing the first shot before offering the second to Beck. His brother frowned. Cassidy shrugged, before drinking it too.

"Is it just the two of you?" Beck eyed the ranch hands with furrowed brows.

"Well," Lloyd began, turning in his seat toward the room, pointing. "Walker is over there with Ryan, and—Oh, now he joins us."

Beck looked up to see Rip stalking toward them. The ranch hand's expression gave little away, his face resolutely blank.
Rip nodded at the group, eyes resting on each member for a short moment.

"I'm headed over there." Cassidy stuck a thumb out, perfectly confident. He turned, setting a hand on Beck's shoulder as he leaned close to other's ear.
"That guy scares the shit out of me, good luck." He whispered before pulling away, voice rising to normal volume.
"Have fun, Becky." Cassidy jibed with a shark-like smile before beginning to jog off.

"Please stop calling me that." Beck murmured, taking a steadying breath before looking to the men before him. Jesse and Lloyd had turned to the bar, speaking amongst themselves. He was reluctant to lay eyes on Rip, finding the man already watching him.

Rip observed him for a moment longer before moving to the barstool beside Jesse, pulling it out, before gesturing indifferently to the seat beside his own. Beck was slow to accept the invitation, keeping his hands in his lap as Rip took the initiative of waving down the bartender.

"I'll have a beer." Rip instructed, before looking to the other expectantly.

"Just water." Beck supplied, moving to rest his crossed arms atop the bar. The bartender nodded, immediately cracking open a bottle for Rip, before shuffling off to fill the other order.

"Designated driver?" Rip grumbled in response, wrapping a hand around his beer, only looking to Beck for a moment before his stare moved forward.

"Yeah." Beck affirmed, swallowing dryly as he mirrored the other man, eyes darting to look at nothing in particular.

"Heard Bill and John got into a disagreement." Rip said simply, voice eerily neutral.
Beck looked up, turning to study Rip's features. The man's expression gave away little as he lifted the beer to his lips. His eyes watched Beck's from over his drink, keeping his gaze as he set it back atop the bar.

"That supposedly, Bill owns 960 acres of Dutton land." Rip supplied, clearing his throat as he looked down at his beer.

Beck frowned in thought, hesitant. He bit the inside of his cheek, watching the side of Rip's face in earnest before sighing quietly through his nose. Rip turned to look back at him, patient, expectant.

"They found a map of the property line." He explained in a hushed tone, giving the bartender a small nod as a glass of water was placed in front of him.

Rip only hummed in reply, seemingly thinking.

"They're both... difficult men." Beck began slowly. "We could end up as..."

"Collateral damage?" Rip offered, taking another sip from his beer.

"I was going to say pawns." Beck shrugged softly, swiping a thumb across the condensation of his glass.

"I can't help you." Rip said after a moment. "John does what he wants."

"So does Bill." Beck murmured. "And I'm always the one to carry it out."

"That, we have in common." Rip grunted, fixing Beck with an assessing gaze. After a moment, he picked up his beer, holding it out.

"To the incoming war."

Beck grabbed his glass, raising it up.