"Chasing after You"
Chapter 9

It was already dark when Beth got home that evening; she was actually in a good mood for a change, despite the somewhat rough start to her day. Malcolm Beck, a real estate developer from Billings who wore a bolo tie, had been waiting in Beth's office when she got in that morning. Malcolm and his brother Teal had caught wind of the Jenkins Rainwater casino/hotel project, and, being the owners of the largest casino chain in Montana, they were determined to stop it's progress. His implications- that the Duttons couldn't, or rather wouldn't, stop them- had been enough to pique her interest and she thought it worth mentioning to her father. She was in the living room scrolling through emails when John came in.

"Hi, sweetheart," he said, pouring himself a glass of whiskey. "Need one?"

"Nah," Beth replied.

"Think it's a problem for you, alcohol?" he asked, taking a seat opposite her.

"No," she murmured. "I just don't do anything half-hearted."

John looked at his daughter and took a sip from the glass. "I don't know what that means."

She smiled back at him. "Means if I drink tequila, I'm eatin' the fuckin' worm. I don't think you want to see that, Dad." John chuckled in agreement.

"Malcolm Beck came to see me today," she said, getting to the reason why she'd been waiting for him in the first place. After briefly discussing what Beck had said, Beth told her father goodnight and retreated to her bedroom.

She was changing from her work clothes into something more comfortable when an idea came to mind. She smiled and grabbed her phone, a blanket, and a bottle of whiskey. After a few minutes of struggling to balance her armful, Beth managed to scale the trellis outside of her bedroom window. Settling into a comfortable position on the roof, she wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and picked up her phone.

"Come to me," she said to Rip when he answered on the first ring.

"Where are you?"

"You know where I am," she said coyly.

"Yea?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "And how am I supposed to get there?"

"The old Irish way." She smiled too. "You're still Irish, aren't ya?"

"I'm Irish enough, honey," he chuckled, then hung up.

Beth was leaning against the slope of the roof, sipping whiskey, when she heard Rip's boots grinding against the shingles as he approached.

"Thought you were off of that stuff?" he asked as he sat down beside her. It wasn't an accusation, just a question.

"Off of it as a crutch," she said, passing him the bottle. "I'll sip whiskey on a roof under the stars with you anytime." He smiled and took a swig, too. "Take me on a date," she continued.

"I'm not sure what that's supposed to mean and I'm too tired to try to figure it out."

"Not a test," she said, "just wanna go on a date with you. Take me to dinner. Maybe we'll go to a music festival, after all."

Rip laughed and agreed. "Never gonna let me live that down, are ya?"

They talked quietly for a while, Rip opening up to her more than he had in a long time. He told her about the memorials he'd commissioned for his mother and brother, as well as what he'd done with his father's bones. While he generally kept his personal life just that, he'd never been afraid to talk to Beth. He'd heard said that love was giving someone the ability to destroy you but trusting that they wouldn't. That pretty much sums it up, he thought, gazing down at her lovingly.

"Don't say it," she whispered, straightening up. "It doesn't mean anything on a roof under the stars like a bunch of fucking hippies. Tell me," she paused for a moment, considering her words, "tell me when it saves me."

"Okay, I won't say it." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a long kiss.

"So," he said, slightly breathless from her kiss- he knew that if he didn't pull away now, they'd end up getting carried away on the roof for all the ranch to see. "Where would you like me to take you on this date of ours?" She smiled up at him and Rip couldn't help thinking that her eyes were more beautiful than the stars above them. God that's cheesy, Rip, he thought to himself as she replied.

"Don't care," she said simply. "Long as it's with you, it'll be perfect."

"Yea?" He wrapped his arm around her again and pulled her to his shoulder. "You deserve the best, Beth. Let's go someplace nice."

"Ha," she laughed. "Well, Bozeman is such a hip place with so many choices." Her voice dripped with sarcasm as she rolled her eyes. "Can't even find decent sushi."

Rip laughed this time. "That's a good thing, far as I'm concerned- I prefer my fish fried."

"What about that place we went at Christmas a couple years ago? That little French place?" she suggested.

"Sure," he agreed, "but you're not tricking me into eating snails this time."

"Okay, it's a date," she said, glancing at the time on her cell phone. "It's getting late," she observed.

"Mmh, yea," he murmured back. "Guess I'd better be getting back to the bunkhouse anyways."

Rip helped her climb back down the trellis before jumping down from the roof to the grass below. "Dammit," he muttered, getting to his feet. "Seems like that used to be easier."

"Amazing what twenty years will do to you, huh?" Beth teased. They strolled around the house to the front porch, hand in hand, and stopped at the front door to say goodnight.

As Beth went inside, she looked back at him over her shoulder and smiled. "See you tomorrow," she whispered before disappearing into the huge house.

"I look forward to it," Rip whispered back in the dark to no one in particular.

Pain. It was all Beth could think about. Every inch of her body hurt and she couldn't get comfortable. It wasn't even light out, but she worried that her tossing and turning would wake Rip who was sleeping beside her. He looked so peaceful, but she was certain it was just the horse tranquilizers keeping away the pain, allowing him to sleep.

Slipping out of the bed gingerly, Beth popped open a pill bottle from the bedside table. She tossed the pills in her mouth and swallowed, chasing them with a swig from the whiskey bottle that was also there.

She had been too exhausted the night before to do more than change out of her torn dress and bloodied bra, but she couldn't stand the thought of that man being on her any longer. After checking to make sure Rip was still sleeping soundly, she closed the bathroom door quietly and turned on the shower. While waiting for the water to get hot, she examined the mangled face reflected back at her in the mirror. She was almost unrecognizable: her right eye was swollen shut and there was a huge gash on her cheek; thick, dark blood was caked to her mouth and her jaw hurt terribly.

Beth carefully pulled her nightgown over her head, wincing as she did so; stepping into the steamy shower, she looked down at her naked body. The majority of her torso was covered in bruises, including a distinct boot-shaped one on her chest. The hot water hurt but soothed at the same time. Bracing herself, she stuck her face into the stream of water; she gasped in pain and had to steady herself on the wall to keep from falling. Unable to control her emotions any longer, she watched a stream of red swirl down the drain and tears began to fall.

The Becks tried to kill me. She wrapped her arms around herself and slid down the wall into a seated position. And that motherfucker- she didn't know his name- tried to rape me. She thought of the sickeningly satisfying crunch the man's face made as she brought the huge glass ashtray down on him repeatedly. Head resting on her knees, she noticed more bruises- perfect handprints inside her thighs from him trying to pry her apart.

I heard you had a mouth on you, the man had said. Despite her bravado, she had never been so terrified in her life. Even after Rip had shot her assailant, she remembered the intense panic she'd felt when he touched her. A guttural scream had come from her throat and her muscles had tensed, ready to fight for her life again. It took a moment to realize who was grasping her. Even though Rip had been shot, he somehow found the strength to hold her up, too.

"Hey," he had said, trying to get her attention, "I love you, Beth. I love you."

"I love you, too," she'd whispered back without hesitation.

The water began to run cold, bringing Beth back to the present. After drying off- a task she found to be easier said than done- she found an oversized flannel shirt and some old jeans in the closet. Cleaning up her face also proved to be a challenge; it was hard to tell where the blood ended and the open wounds began. Deciding makeup was pointless, she checked on Rip again. Breakfast would be ready soon, but she wasn't going to wake him. Instead, she kissed his cheek and headed to the dining room alone, careful not to wake him when she closed the door behind her.

When she got to the table, her father and Kayce's family were already there helping their plates. "How ya feeling, sweetheart?" John asked, careful not to look too closely at his daughter's injuries.

"Like I just left the fucking spa, Dad," she said, not in an unkind tone.

As she lowered herself into a chair, she noticed Monica and Tate were both staring at her. Choosing a slice of orange from the platter in the center of the table, she tentatively took a small bite of the fruit. This is useless, she thought, sighing and putting the uneaten orange on her plate.

"Gator?" she asked as their cook brought in a tray of hot biscuits. "Would you make me a smoothie and bring it to me on the porch?"

"Sure, Ms. Beth. What kind?"

"Two scoops of ice cream, three shots of vodka." The others didn't comment on her request.

"Two scoops, three shots," Gator repeated with a nod.

Beth stood to leave the table, every inch of her body screaming. As she passed Monica's chair, she paused beside her sister-in-law. "You should see the other guy."

A few minutes later, Beth was sipping her smoothie on the porch and gazing at the rolling hills surrounding the Yellowstone. Her father was meeting with Dan Jenkins and Thomas Rainwater across the yard. While she couldn't hear their conversation, she knew what they were discussing: Malcolm and Teal Beck were going to pay for what they'd done.

As Beth watched the men, she heard Monica come outside. "Can I join you?" she asked.

"Sure," Beth replied.

"We don't really know each other," Monica began.

"We don't know each other at all," Beth countered. She attempted to smile at the other woman, but it ended up being more of a grimace. "Don't worry," she said after a moment. "It wasn't my father and it wasn't my boyfriend. This was business."

"What kind of business does that?" Monica asked innocently.

"The family kind," Beth said, as if that explained everything. "With a face like that, I'd stick to teaching."

Monica didn't say anything, but Beth could tell what she was thinking. "Don't judge us for the way we protect the thing that we're giving you."

Monica stood to go back inside, wrapping her coat tighter around her body as she did so. "I'm not judging. I'm just trying to understand."

"I wouldn't try that either," Beth replied with a small, sad smile.

The next morning, Beth woke feeling more rested than the day before. It was still early and she was enjoying a few minutes of much needed quiet before having to get up. She had slept a little and, even though her body hurt just as badly, she felt emotionally stronger.

Rip was still sleeping beside her and, while she wanted to wake him, she knew he needed all the rest he could get. He took a bullet for me, she thought, gazing down at his sleeping face. And he said he loves me. He'd said it once before, but this was different. Before, he'd been seventeen and she'd just told him she thought she was pregnant. Sixteen year old Beth had already been crying and she wasn't ready for those words. She remembered yelling at him to shut up, a knee-jerk reaction, before running off. She smiled fondly at the memory, supposing that they had loved each other even then, in their own teenage way.

Rip began to stir, pulling Beth away from her thoughts. "Hey," she whispered.

He blinked sleepily and brushed the back of his hand against her cheek gently. "I wish they'd come back to life so I could kill 'em again," he said.

"You would wish that," she said, sliding closer to him, careful not to bump his wound.

"I should go, Beth, before I get used to this."

"The doctor said to stay in bed." She was hurt that he was leaving, but she knew it had more to do with her father than anything else. Rip would never do anything to be disrespectful and that included overstaying his welcome in Mr. Dutton's daughter's bed.

"There's beds in the bunkhouse," he said as he got up and began to dress.

Beth watched him, noticing his movements were very slow and deliberate. "Does it hurt?" she asked.

"Like hell." Rip picked up his hat from the chair and leaned down to kiss Beth. "I'll call you later. Love you."

Beth smiled, but didn't reply. She knew she didn't have to say it back for him to know that she felt the same way.