Chapter Text
Rip entered the dining room with trepidation, he hated sneaking around behind Beth’s back but he had standing orders to attend to. He knew John Dutton’s wishes were not to be trifled with and in his present mood Rip knew that he shouldn’t poke the proverbial bear. Instead he acknowledged his equally guilty-looking confederate with a tip of his hat, an effort to pre-emptively mollify the Dutton Partriach.
John Dutton removed his reading glasses, placing the spectacles by his open laptop, amongst the stack of papers, brochures arrayed on the large table. He gestured impatiently to his son-in-law to take a seat, moving the stack of magazines from the chair nearest him . “Rip, we sort this today, no excuses”.
Rip could only cock an eyebrow at the now discarded bridal magazine, the photoshopped series of identikit couples beaming towards families who each looked like they had been plucked straight from Central Casting. From the cascade of brochures he could see well-thumbed earmarked pages in addition to colour-coded bursts of discrete page marking by scribbled post-it notes. He already thought his wedding to Beth was pretty much perfect, though he wouldn’t quibble with the opportunity to celebrate it again, his thoughts drifting idly to their wedding night.
“Quit it with the grin, I’m in no mood for it. Did you at least bring the kid?”. Rip surveyed the organised chaos, trying to get his mind back to the task at hand, before nodding his response as he slowly reverted back to his normal neutral expression, careful not to exacerbate his boss’s foul mood. “He’s finishing up in the last stall, sir, he’ll be over shortly”.
Rip flashed a look at the computer screen, he admired John’s determination to ‘gift’ his daughter a fairy-tale wedding, but he couldn’t help but think his energies were misplaced. He had tried to reason with his long-time mentor but all attempts had so far proved futile. The last discussion had been settled definitively with John’s heated assertion that his wish was merely that his only daughter would have at least one happy memory associated with the ranch.
John Dutton stabbed his fingers passive-aggressively on his keyboard, switching back to his spreadsheet plan. “I’m assuming you’ll be happy with my choice of suit”. John nodded to the nearest pile of brochures, distractedly, “Top magazine, second post-it note”. Rip skimmed through the magazine, while John Dutton demanded to know his vital statistics.
As the owner of only a handful of clothes Rip, gave his employer his best guesses, feeling like a piece of meat as John Dutton eyed him suspiciously as he re-confirmed his inner seam and shoe size. Rip was eternally thankful at Carter’s appearance, the kid had the forethought to change into clean clothes, which softened the rough edges of his appearance. Rip gestured for the kid to join him table-side. Carter remained in the doorway, looking at the two men huddled behind the laptop doing little to fix the stupefied silence, until John Dutton laid out his plan.
The youngster could only manage a gormless nod as John Dutton had impressed upon him, his desire for absolute secrecy on this ‘special project’; testily telling him to close the door in case his daughter decided to return home early. The elder Dutton stern gaze was laser focused on the tremulous boy, as he took a seat next to the Ranch Foreman as the boss forced a vow of secrecy from his youngest employee. He explained he was planning Beth and Rip’s Wedding, a secret and over-the-top wedding. Carter tried to school his perplexed features into a copy of Rip’s neutral countenance. He had witnessed their wedding last week so he didn’t really understand why another ceremony was needed. He would file this under ‘rich people problems’.
Carter answered the questions that John periodically peppered in his direction. He tried to agree with Rip’s opinions where possible, but after 50 minutes of looking at varying varieties of orchids with impenetrable names, he couldn’t help but think Beth’s ruthless decision making ability was needed as they floundered through each set of decisions. His own observations seemed to be highly prized by the big boss. He allowed himself a smug sense of self-satisfaction as he relayed Beth’s feedback on the pervious flowers he had given his erstwhile caregiver. He puzzled over the thought of why this wedding needed to be secret, it seemed like John’s plan was shaping up to be a rather large shin-dig, he wasn’t entirely sure if anything happening on the ranch would go unnoticed by Beth’s shrewd mind. Carter carefully deployed his best poker face, not wanting to anger the two older men as they seemed to be bickering afresh on music options, after only belatedly agreeing to a compromise on the catering for the wedding. Before the argument could become heated; the rustling of keys; stopped all conversations dead in their tracks. John and Rip were stony-faced as they listened for clues about the unexpected interloper. Carter could hear the fleet footed visitor approach, the wood floors seeming to magnify the ominous sounds of heels on wood floor.
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There was a collective sigh of relief as the Monica Dutton entered 'Wedding HQ'. “I thought you'd bring Tate?” the edge in John's greeting was palpable. After a few terse seconds of silence, his daughter-in-law managed to shake her head, belatedly finding her voice but not yet finding the words to articulate a question at the organised chaos of the dining room table. Carter sprang to his feet, offering his chair hoping that the newest addition to John’s wedding planning meeting would buy him a reprieve, Lloyd had promised to show him some new roping techniques, if he wouldn't have someone his own age to play with this seemed like a good alernative. He made a deft escape to the bunkhouse, as he distantly heard John Dutton impatiently explain to his guest that involving Beth in his plans would be as pointless as chasing a man on a merry-go-round while seated on the plastic carousel horse behind him.