**Crossroads of Justice**

Prompt: Yellowstone longmire crossover fanfiction keith runs a guy who he pulled over for a loose gate ion a cattle trailer what comes back is turns out the guy has a bench warrant out of absaroka county Wyoming for forging cattle brands

Keith stood by his patrol car, the bright lights flashing against the dusky backdrop of the Yellowstone landscape. The evening air was cool, perfumed with the crisp scent of pine and the faintest hint of smoke from distant wildfires. He was watching the last remnants of the golden sun disappear behind the mountains when a rumbling truck rolled past, the sound of the engine at odds with the wilderness around him. It was a big, dusty rig, pulling a cattle trailer that swayed unsteadily with each bump in the road. He squinted, eyes narrowing as he noticed the rear gate dangling precariously, barely secured but making a battle against the weight of the trailers’ complaints. His instincts kicked in. This wasn't safe, not for the cattle, and not for anyone on the road. Keith swung into action, flicking on his sirens and pulling the truck over to the side of the worn highway. As he stepped out of the car, he felt a familiar surge of duty mixed with the thrill of the unexpected. It was all part of the job, even in this vast, wild corner of the world where he was often the only figure of authority. As he approached the driver’s side, Keith took in the situation. The driver, a rugged man in his mid-forties with a scruffy beard and sunburned skin, looked as though he’d spent the better part of his life on the road. He fumbled inside the cab with a nervous energy that raised the officer's suspicions. “Evening,” Keith said, keeping his tone neutral but firm. “I need to see your registration and insurance for the vehicle. Plus, it looks like you’ve got a loose gate back here.” The driver shot him a sideways glance, his dark eyes momentarily wavering. “Yeah, I see it. Just had it fixed last week. Shouldn’t be a problem.” “Doesn’t look like it. We can’t have livestock falling out on the highway, you understand?” Keith’s hand subtly moved toward the radio on his belt as the man muttered under his breath, gripping the steering wheel harder. “I get it. Just a little tight on time, officer,” the man replied, feigning nonchalance but the slight shake in his voice betrayed his nerves. Keith nodded, maintaining his professional composure. “I’ll need to run your info. Just sit tight for a moment.” He turned away, eyeing the cattle trailer filled with restless animals, their nervous lowing underscoring the tension. Something felt off, and the way the driver hesitated sent alarm bells ringing in Keith’s mind. After returning to his patrol car, Keith began to run the plates through the state database. The seconds ticked by slowly, and the uneasy silence hung heavy in the air. Finally, as he awaited a response, the dispatcher’s voice crackled through the radio, tearing through his thoughts. “Unit 12, be advised. I’ve got a hit on that plate. Subject has a bench warrant out of Absaroka County for forging cattle brands.” Keith’s brow furrowed with surprise at the news. “Copy that. I’m going to need backup.” He stepped back toward the truck, aware that the dynamic had shifted. The driver, who had previously appeared relaxed, was now agitated, his hands twitching like a caged animal. “I need you to step out of the vehicle, please,” Keith instructed, raising his voice with authority. The man’s expression darkened. “What’s this about, officer? I told you I’m just passing through.” “You have a warrant for your arrest. Step out of the vehicle.” For a moment, the driver’s eyes sparked with defiance, but as he glanced back at the trailer and the sound of the restless cattle, his resolve began to crumble. With a reluctant sigh, he swung open the door and stepped out, fidgeting with the waistband of his jeans. “Look, I can explain. I didn’t forge them, not really. It’s complicated—” “Save it,” Keith interrupted, his hand moving to his cuffs as he approached the man. “I’m not here to listen to excuses. You’re going in.” As Keith tightened the cuffs, the driver muttered something about bad luck that faded into the night. The sound of shifting cattle filled the air as the tainted aura of desperation hung between them. “Now, where’s your truck headed?” Keith probed, though he didn’t expect an honest answer. “Around. Just… moving some stock,” the man mumbled. “Just mistakes, officer. Just trying to get by. It was never supposed to be this way.” In that moment, Keith felt a flicker of sympathy, a bittersweet pang of understanding. They both lived in a world where the line between right and wrong could blur, often leading to reluctant choices driven by survival. “Cattle forgery is serious business,” he replied, his voice lowering, trying to do what he could to connect across the chasm. “People depend on their brands. They symbolize ownership, integrity. You took more than just money; you affected livelihoods.” The man’s demeanor faltered as the old cowboy hat fell from his grasp, the contrast between the rustic accents of his life and the weight of his choices weighing heavily on him. “Yeah, I know. You sound like my old man.” In that fleeting exchange, Keith caught a glimpse of vulnerability in the man’s hardened surface. Still, the law was law. “Let’s get you processed,” he said, leading the driver to the back of the patrol car, locking him inside as he prepared to handle the paperwork. Once the man was secure, Keith felt the weight of the night around him, the vast Wild West stretched beyond, populated by ghosts of those who had come before them. He might have been just another officer patrolling the highways of Yellowstone, but here, in this moment, he understood the lives intertwined by choice and consequence. The echoes of high country justice reminded him that every turn—every decision, whether on a secluded road or in the hearts of men—could lead to unforeseen crossroads. And as he resumed his duty, processing the man’s arrest and securing the trailer, Keith couldn’t shake the feeling that in a world as wild and unpredictable as the territory he served, even those tangled in misfortune deserved a second chance.