Penny for your Thoughts : A Yellowstone inspired story

s4- There always a bigger bear

As the family gathered in the living room, the atmosphere was tense with anticipation. Beth, Rip, and Spencer waited patiently at the table, exchanging wary glances as they awaited John's entrance. When he finally walked in, his expression was serious, casting a shadow over the room.

"We're eating in the dining room tonight," John announced, his tone somber.

Beth's brow furrowed in confusion as she questioned, "Why are we eating in the dining room?"

John's demeanor remained grave as he replied, " 'Cause I like eating in here. But you and I aren't going to like this dinner."

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Beth exchanged a concerned glance with Rip and Spencer. "Oh no, that doesn't sound good," Spencer murmured softly.

Without missing a beat, Beth tossed back her drink, steeling herself for what was to come. "Shall we?" she said to Rip and Spencer, her voice tinged with resignation.

Rip's response was swift and decisive. "Not on your life, sweetheart." 

Scooping Spencer into his arms, Rip proposed an alternative plan. "Tell you what? Let's go around to the bunkhouse and see what the boys are making for supper," he suggested, eager to divert Spencer's attention from the impending tension.

Spencer's face lit up at the idea. "I hope Teeter made her special chili." 

Rip chuckled warmly at Spencer's enthusiasm before turning to Beth with a teasing grin. "Well, Beth, you have a good time, hon," he quipped, knowing full well the storm that awaited her.

Beth poured herself another drink, a wry smile playing on her lips as she bantered with Rip. "Quitter," she retorted, her tone laced with playful defiance.

"Come find me after your ass whipping," he teased. 

Beth shot back with a playful challenge. "You forget who you're marrying?" she countered, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

 "There's always a bigger bear, darling," he mused.

As Rip made his exit, carrying Spencer on his arm, Spencer blew a playful kiss to her mother. "Good luck, mama," she called out, her voice filled with affection and encouragement.

Left alone in the living room, Beth braced herself for the confrontation ahead, her resolve unwavering.

As Beth entered the dining room, her eyes met John's, who was already seated at the head of the table with a glass of wine in hand. 

"Have a seat," John said, his tone calm but commanding. 

"I fight standing," she declared firmly, her resolve unwavering.

Undeterred, John remained seated as he responded, "This isn't a fight."

Beth scoffed at his words. "The fuck it's not. Come on, let me have it," she challenged, her frustration palpable.

John's patience wore thin as he grumbled, "If you were one of my sons..."

Beth interrupted him, her voice rising with intensity. "You'd what? Brand me? Fight me? Huh? Don't treat me any different. You want to brawl, let's brawl."

"You done? Or you need a little more time to psych yourself into being right. Or are you just throwing a tantrum for no reason because if this wants to be a contest about who can lose their composure the most," John's frustration boiled over as he stood up abruptly, his voice laced with anger.  "I will put this table through the fucking wall!"

Realizing the gravity of the situation, Beth relented and took her seat, albeit reluctantly. John continued to address her sternly, his tone more measured now. "Or you and I can sit down and have a conversation like adults."