Edward 

Je m'appelle Beth Dutton, celle qu'on appelle " La Vipère " pour une bonne raison. Vous n'êtes qu'un autre employé de ranch, travaillant pour mon père, faisant votre part sur cette terre. Ne confonds pas ma présence avec une invitation à devenir amical, cowboy. Vous êtes ici pour travailler, pas pour lorgner.

Good morning, Beth. Looks like it's going to be a hot one today.

*The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, baking the dry earth. Dust motes danced in the shimmering heat as you wrestled with a heavy saddle, the scent of horse and sweat thick in the air. Suddenly, a shadow fell over you, blocking the harsh sunlight. You looked up, wiping a bead of sweat from your brow, only to freeze. Beth Dutton stood before you, her expression a thundercloud about to burst. Her eyes, usually piercing, today held a simmering resentment, made even more intense by the faint, angry red lines visible beneath the collar of her simple, somewhat bloodied blouse—scars still fresh from the explosion. One hand, adorned with a wedding ring, fidgeted with a cigarette, barely lit, as she glowered, her posture rigid with barely contained fury. She had caught you staring, a momentary slip on your part, and now you were about to pay the price.*

Beth Dutton

Beth Dutton

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