Beck lifted an arm, placing the back of his hand against his open mouth, stifling a yawn. He allowed himself to lean further back in his seat, the familiar rock of the saddle nearly causing him to drift off.

"Here we are." Billy's voice startled Beck out of his reprieve. The old man pulled his horse to a stop at the side of the dirt road that connected both the Harrison home and the Dutton's, climbing off the animal and landing with a quiet thud. His sharp eyes gave the fence a once over, before he decidedly moved closer.

"Are you... hopping the fence?" Beck murmured, eyes darting around, fearful of onlookers.

"Yes, Beck." His father bit out, clearly annoyed, as he unfastened a small stool from the side of his horse.

"...Why?" Beck spoke after a moment, watching as Bill set the stool up at the edge of the barbed-wire fencing.
The older man huffed, dropping his hands to fall exaggeratedly and hang at his sides as he looked up at his son.

"We're going to put these," Billy's hand dug in his back pocket, pulling out a pink stake flag, and waving it haphazardly about. He turned around, pointing at the other side of the fence with the flag aggressively. "Over there!"

"You're marking the property line." Beck murmured blankly.

"Yes." Billy answered, voice filled with intent. He stepped up onto the stool, eyeing the fence.

"Why?" Beck hissed, glaring at the back of his father's head.

"This should have been ours a long time ago, Beck, and you're asking me why?" His father rounded on him, frowning.

"Doing this..." Beck gestured toward the field with a tired hand. "It's not legal, Dad."

"Like hell, it's not legal." Billy argued, placing a hand at his hip. "This is my land!"

"And that's why we need to use lawyers." The younger man urged quietly, eyeing the yellowing horizon.

"Wyatt knows how important this is, why can't you?" His father spoke lowly, turning back to the fence. He stared at the structure for a moment longer, mumbling to himself.

"Why didn't you bring Wyatt, then?" Beck muttered, swinging a leg off of his horse, and lowering himself onto the dirt.
Bill ignored him, still studying the fence.

"You have wire-cutters in your bag?"

Beck's lips parted in shock. "We're not cutting the fence."

The older man frowned for a second, before pointing a determined finger at the ground.
"Then get down on your back and slide under that last rail of wire there."

Beck eyed the space between the barbed steel and the ground, brows furrowing.
"You're... serious?"

"Yes, now move, quickly." Billy urged, waving his hands wildly with an annoyed scowl.

The blond widened his eyes, in silent disbelief as his lowered himself to the ground, moving to lay on his back. He exhaled, holding his breath, before shoving himself underneath the barrier. His shirt began to ride up, sharp barbs prodding stubbornly into his abdomen.
"Jesus, fu—" He breathed out, baring his teeth, and sliding onto the other side. He huffed out a pained sigh, groaning as he lifted himself back onto his feet.

"Hurry," his father muttered, waving the stake flags over the fence.

Beck snatched the objects out of the other's hand without giving the man a second glance as he turned to stalk into the field. He kneeled, jabbing the flag aggressively into the ground before standing. He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, peering at the tree line in the distance.

"Keep going!" Bill shouted out.

The younger man scoffed quietly, rolling his eyes as he continued to walk away, stopping after a moment and placing down another flag. He continued down his path, repeating the process. His father muttered incomprehensibly from behind him, but he chose to ignore it in favor for determinedly putting more space between each other.

"Beck," The man ground out from behind him, voice rising. "Beck!"

"Goddamn—" Beck whispered, heaving a frustrated sigh, before turning around, eyeing Billy with a glare he hoped could be deciphered between the distance. "What?"

"They're coming down the road!" His father shouted out, jerking his head to the left as he tightened his hold on the reins.

Beck turned to eye the incoming pickup truck, a yellow "Dutton Ranch" accompanied by their brand plastered on the side of the vehicle. He looked for a place to hide, gauging the distance to the tree line. The nearing sounds of gravel crunching caused him to still, before dropping onto his stomach, somewhat concealing himself in the overgrown grass.

The noise of the truck shut off, followed by a few doors slamming shut. He nearly flinched at the sound, keeping himself still. The sound of far away voices filtered across the field for a moment, accompanied by silence.

Beck adjusted his position, hissing at feeling of the fresh wire-cuts across his stomach as he pressed himself further into the earth. A rustle in the grass sounded from near his head, faltering his movement.

"A hole in your fence again?" A voice inquired from above.

The blond slowly rolled onto his back, hat sliding off behind him. His face balled up into a wince, sun baring into his eyes. He lifted a hand up to block it, before almost immediately letting it drop to rest atop his chest. His head fell back, lolling to the side, grass harshly tickling his cheek.

"Hey, Kayce." He murmured in response.

"These flags yours?" The Dutton asked, eyeing the line as a second set of steps sounded nearby.

"No." He answered honestly, frowning at the new pair of boots two inches from his nose. He tilted his head back, looking up to reveal Rip.

"Pawns, huh?" The dark-haired man spoke in lieu of a greeting.

He wasn't sure how to reply, watching the other carefully. He settled on a soft shrug, suddenly sheepish.

Kayce stuck a hand out. Beck was quick to sit up, grappling at the offering. He was hoisted onto his feet, stumbling to find his footing, before letting go of the other's hand.
Beck took a step back, looking to Kayce, then Rip, who seemed to be observing the other just as intently. Rip's sunglasses shielded his eyes, and any emotion found there.

"Thanks," Beck directed to Kayce, pausing. "And I'm sorry about—my dad." He nodded toward the far away fence line.

"Me too." Kayce shrugged, the corner of his mouth turning up into a crooked smile.

Rip, from just beside them, knelt down, reaching toward Beck's feet; causing the other to take a nervous step back. The man's fingers gripped at the brim of Beck's hat, strewn atop the grass, forgotten. He lifted it, pulling it close to his chest before brushing it off with the sleeve of his coat. With his head down, the sunglasses' defense were lowered. Beck could see the sliver of blue for only a moment, before the guarded eyes returned as the man looked up, morphing into shadows behind tinted glass.

Beck looked away, eyeing the space of grass between their feet.
The hat moved into his line of sight, the hand's grip on it held loosely. He grabbed at it, watching the dark felt fabric brush against the other man's thumb and forefingers. He adjusted his hold, moving to grab at the body of the hat, dipping his chin down to place it atop his head.

"Thanks," He murmured.

"It was nice seeing you, Beck." Kayce smiled for a moment before he let it drop into something more bittersweet. "It's been a while."

"Yeah," Beck agreed with a nod. "It has."

"Dad's waiting." Rip butt in, looking between the two men with an ever-remaining blank expression.

"Right," Kayce realized, looking back to Beck with a polite smile. "You can come back anytime. Maybe on the other side of the fence, though." He jested, moving to place his hands in the pocket of his jeans.

Beck nodded earnestly as Rip made a move to lead the way back. Beck was quick to follow, while Kayce brought up the rear.

"Maybe we can go through the gate this time." Rip muttered, pointing into the distance. Beck's face warmed at the realization, a hand coming up to tug the brim of his hat further onto his head in an attempt to hide his embarrassment.