Penny for your Thoughts : A Yellowstone inspired story

s5- Penny Girl

Beth sat with Spencer's lifeless body all day, her eyes red and swollen from endless tears. The sun had long since climbed high into the sky, its warmth a cruel contrast to the cold stillness in her arms. She clung to Spencer, stroking her hair and whispering words of love and comfort, even though she knew her daughter could no longer hear her.

John emerged from the lodge, his face lined with grief. He approached slowly, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had to do. "Beth, sweetheart," he said gently, his voice trembling, "the coroner is here. They are gonna take good care of her."

Beth's body tensed, and she instinctively shielded Spencer's body, her protective instincts flaring. "No," she said firmly, her voice breaking. "I'm not leaving her."

John sighed, understanding her pain but knowing what had to be done. "It won't be for long," he tried to reassure her. "We will have the funeral—"

"No," Beth cut him off, her voice rising with determination. "No funeral." She looked down at Spencer's serene face, her fingers caressing her daughter's cheek with infinite tenderness. "She would want a party."

John managed a small, sad smile, recognizing the truth in Beth's words. "You're right, honey," he agreed softly. He extended his hand towards her. "You can go with her if you want, so she won't be alone."

Before Beth could respond, Rip walked up, his face a mask of sorrow and resolve. "I got her," he said quietly. He gently lifted Spencer's body from Beth's arms, cradling her as if she were made of the most delicate glass.

Beth stood up, her legs unsteady, and followed Rip. She couldn't bear to let Spencer out of her sight, not even for a moment. As they walked towards the coroner's vehicle, John watched them go, his heart aching for his daughter and granddaughter.

Rip carried Spencer with the utmost care, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. Beth walked beside him, her hand resting on Spencer's small, cold hand. Together, they made their way to the coroner's van, each step heavy with the finality of their loss.

When they reached the van, Rip carefully placed Spencer's body on the stretcher, his hands lingering on her for a moment longer. Beth stayed close, her eyes never leaving her daughter. She leaned down and pressed a final kiss to Spencer's forehead, her tears falling onto her daughter's skin.

Rip put his arm around Beth, and they stood there for a moment, drawing strength from each other. Then, as the coroner gently closed the van's doors, they knew it was time to let go.

"She'll be okay," Beth whispered, her voice breaking. "We'll get through this."

Rip nodded, his throat too tight to speak. They watched the van drive away, taking a piece of their hearts with it.

---

The day was heavy with sorrow as John Dutton prepared to return to his duties as governor in Helena. He stood by his car, his driver waiting patiently. "I'll be right back," John said, his voice low and filled with a deep, aching sadness.

He walked slowly back into the lodge, each step a reminder of the loss that weighed so heavily on his heart. His feet carried him almost of their own accord to Spencer's room, the place where her spirit still seemed to linger. The door creaked softly as he pushed it open, revealing the small sanctuary that had once been filled with the sounds of her laughter and the sight of her bright, smiling face.

John stepped inside and moved towards the reading nook by the window, a favorite spot of Spencer's. He lowered himself into the chair, the fabric still carrying a faint hint of her scent. On the table beside him lay the book she had read to him while he was in a coma: "Spirit - Stallion of the Cimarron." The cover was worn from her small hands, and he traced the letters with a trembling finger, memories flooding back.

As he sat there, the silence of the room pressing in on him, John felt a small, hard object under him. He shifted and reached down, pulling out a few pennies that had been hidden in the cushion. Tears welled up in his eyes as he recognized them for what they were—a sign from Spencer, a way of saying "hello" from beyond the grave.

"Hello to you too, granddaughter," John whispered, his voice breaking. He held the pennies tightly in his hand as if they were a lifeline connecting him to her.

He looked at the book again, his heart heavy with longing. "I wish you were here to read me this one more time," he said quietly, his tears falling freely now. He imagined her voice, sweet and clear, reading the story with all the enthusiasm and love she had always shown.

John took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He knew he had to go, had to return to his responsibilities, but leaving this room, this last physical connection to Spencer was almost more than he could bear.

He stood up slowly, pocketing the pennies as a keepsake. With one last look around the room, he whispered, "Love you, Penny girl. Always."

John turned and walked out of the room, closing the door softly behind him. As he made his way back downstairs and out to the car, he felt the weight of his grief but also a small measure of peace, knowing that Spencer's spirit would always be with him, watching over him from her place among the stars.