Emmerdale has just started a feud between Joe Tate and Sam Dingle, despite the pair seeming quite close in recent weeks.

Sam has gotten sick of Joe using the Christmas tree fiasco to get him to do more work alone. And when he got a bit of encouragement from Matty tonight, he ended up quitting his job.

But with the pair no longer seeing eye-to-eye, Sam wants revenge. And unfortunately, it’s Kim who ends up in a bad situation…

Joe was furious at Sam (Credit: ITV)
What happened between Joe and Sam in Emmerdale?

Sam and Joe had put their differences aside a few days ago. But tonight, that all changed. When the generator went out at the Dingle’s, Sam realised he was going to have to steal some of Pollards. But Joe arrived to ask him to work even though he had the day off.

When Sam realised just how big of a job it was, he headed to the farm to see if Cain could help him. Instead, he was greeted by Matty, who told him to tell Joe no for once.

This inspired Sam to march straight back up to Home Farm and inform Joe that he can’t do the job alone, which only acts as a catalyst for what happened next.

Joe informed Sam how disappointed he was, and tried to guilt trip him into helping, bringing the Christmas tree situation back up. But Sam had had enough and throws it back in his faces that Joe always thinks he was better than everyone.

And when Joe tried to tell him he was better than everyone, Sam brought up his habit of breaking up family’s – and with fans predicting another affair for Joe, he could be right. And Sam also mentioned the fact he caused three deaths earlier this year.

Battle lines were clearly drawn. But before Joe got the chance to fire him, Sam quit. However, this isn’t the end of their feud.

Kim has been injured (Credit: ITV)
Does Kim Tate die?

In Emmerdale spoilers for later this week, Lydia discovers Sam quit and begs him to get his job back. But when Joe refuses, Kim steps in.

However, the whole situation leaves Lydia questioning her own loyalty to Kim, especially after the rich queen of Home Farm only gives a small raffle donation.

Meanwhile, Sam is wanting his own revenge. So, he arranges a dodgy shoot on Home Farm land – behind Kim’s back. Needing help to cover for it, Lydia agrees to keep Kim in the dark. But while she is going against her best pal, Kim is pulling out all the stops to give Lydia the surprise of her life.

Lydia is forced to choose between Kim and the dodgy shoot when both need her presence. Then, she is surprised to find the one and only Jason Donovan performing live for her – a gift from Kim!

But immediately after the performance, Vanessa tells Kim that an unauthorised shoot is taking place. And when she heads off to investigate, a horrifying chain of events result in Kim lying in the woods alone and critically injured.

What happens next remains to be seen. And whether or not Sam is caught out about the dodgy shoot is unknown. But it’s safe to say the feud between Sam and Joe in Emmerdale is only getting started.

Tension had been simmering beneath the surface of Emmerdale for weeks, but no one could have predicted that Kim Tate—one of the most formidable figures the village had ever known—would soon find her life in danger because of a rapidly escalating feud between Sam Dingle and Joe Tate. The cracks began subtly at first: a harsh word exchanged during a livestock delivery, a glare held too long across the courtyard at Home Farm, a whisper of resentment carried on the wind. But what looked like minor friction soon spiralled into something far more volatile, something rooted in old wounds, pride, loyalty, and lingering fear—fear that history was repeating itself in ways too painful to bear. And in the middle of it all stood Kim, confident as ever, believing she could manage the situation as she had managed every crisis before. But this time, the danger brewing around her was not something she could outthink, outplay, or outmanoeuvre. This time, the stakes were higher than even she realised.

Sam hadn’t slept properly in weeks. The return of Joe Tate to the village had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t fully articulate. It wasn’t simply old resentment or the memory of past humiliation—though those memories remained vivid and raw, etched like carvings into his mind. It was the knowledge that Joe’s presence tended to bring consequences, sometimes subtle, sometimes catastrophic, and that the people Sam cared about—his family, his farm, his stability—could once again be threatened by Tate meddling. Even though Joe insisted he wasn’t there to stir up trouble, Sam didn’t believe him. He watched Joe closely, monitoring his every action at Home Farm, analysing every expression on his face. Suspicion became Sam’s shadow, following him everywhere he went, whispering that danger lurked beneath Joe’s charming exterior.

Joe, meanwhile, felt trapped in an emotional storm of his own making. He had returned to Emmerdale with intentions that were complicated, layered with guilt, hope, and perhaps even a desire for redemption. But the village didn’t trust him easily—and Sam least of all. Joe had expected hostility. He had expected tension. But he hadn’t expected Sam’s anger to build so quickly, nor had he anticipated how deeply the Dingle’s moral instincts ran. To Sam, Joe represented threat. To Joe, Sam represented a reminder of everything he had broken in the past. Neither wanted a fight. Neither would back down. And fate, it seemed, had entwined them on a collision course neither could escape.

Kim, as always, maintained her composure. She believed she understood both men—Sam’s earnestness, Joe’s ambition, the weaknesses they both tried to hide. She thought she could keep the peace, leverage their conflicts into something manageable. After all, she had spent years cultivating control over Home Farm and everything associated with it. She had survived betrayals, threats, schemes, scandals, and heartbreak. Why would this feud be any different? But Kim underestimated not only the depth of emotion between Sam and Joe but the way their simmering resentment could ignite into something dangerous and unpredictable, something that would soon place her right in the crossfire.

The first real sign of danger came late one evening when Lydia found Sam pacing outside the Dingle house. His face was etched with an intensity she hadn’t seen since the darkest days of their marriage struggles. When she asked what was wrong, Sam shook his head, unable to find words. Lydia reached out, but he stepped away, his hands shaking. He finally whispered, “He’s gonna ruin everything again.” Lydia knew Sam well enough to understand who he meant. But she also knew fear when she saw it—not anger, not bravado, but fear. And Sam was afraid. Afraid of what Joe might do. Afraid of what he himself might do in response. Afraid of the storm he felt gathering in his bones.

Meanwhile, Joe sat in the dimly lit living room at Home Farm, staring into the fire with a troubled expression. He had hoped that being back in Emmerdale would offer him a chance to make amends, build something new, reclaim the version of himself he once wanted to be. But instead, he found himself locked in silent conflict with Sam, haunted by his past mistakes, and increasingly uncertain whether he should stay. He told himself he was different now—stronger, wiser, maybe even kinder. But the shadow of the man he used to be lingered around him like smoke, making it difficult for anyone, including himself, to believe in his transformation.

It was around this time that Kim began noticing the small things that hinted at the feud worsening. Documents went missing. Equipment on the farm malfunctioned in ways too precise to be accidents. Messages were delivered late or not at all. Workers reported overhearing Sam speaking with rising anger or seeing Joe with clenched fists after tense exchanges. Nothing explosive had happened yet. But everything felt heightened, sharper, as though the world around Home Farm was holding its breath. Kim ignored the first signs, then the second, then the third. But by the time she acknowledged the danger, it had already grown beyond her reach.

One day, Kim called a meeting between Sam and Joe, believing that clarity and communication could dissolve the tension. The moment the two men walked into the same room, however, Kim sensed the gravity of the situation. Their eyes locked with the intensity of two storms facing each other across a narrow field, silent but ready to unleash chaos. Joe tried to be civil. Sam tried to restrain himself. But years of resentment cannot be dismantled in an afternoon meeting, and the conversation quickly dissolved into loud voices, accusations, and emotional confessions neither man had planned to reveal. Kim tried to intervene, but it was like trying to stop a wave by placing a hand in the ocean.

The confrontation ended with Sam storming out, Lydia waiting outside with worried eyes, and Joe slamming his fists against the desk in a rare moment of lost control. Kim remained alone in the room afterward, her breath shallow, her mind racing. She had thought she could halt the spiral. Instead, she had accelerated it. And somewhere deep inside, an unfamiliar chill whispered that she might soon become collateral damage in a conflict she had assumed she could manage.

Over the next week, the village buzzed with rumours. Sam had been seen yelling near the edge of the woods. Joe had abruptly cancelled several appointments. Kim, usually composed and stern, appeared distracted during business meetings, her focus slipping in ways that alarmed those closest to her. Even Will, perceptive and protective, sensed that something dangerous was looming. He tried to warn Kim, but she brushed him off, insisting she had everything under control. Will knew better—when Kim Tate insisted she was in control, it usually meant she was inches away from losing it.

The turning point arrived on a cold rainy afternoon when Sam discovered something at the farm that finally pushed him beyond the threshold of restraint. A delivery meant for the Dingle farm had instead been redirected to Home Farm—a harmless mistake on the surface, but the last straw for Sam, who interpreted it as a deliberate move by Joe to undermine him. Sam confronted the delivery worker, who insisted he hadn’t known. But Sam didn’t believe it. He stormed toward Home Farm, fury in every step.

At the same time, Joe was meeting with a contractor in the courtyard. Rain poured down, soaking everyone, but Joe barely noticed. His thoughts were elsewhere, clouded by stress, guilt, and unresolved tension. When he looked up and saw Sam approaching with a rage so potent it nearly stole his breath, Joe dismissed the contractor and stepped forward, his jaw tightening.

“What have you done now?” Sam shouted, voice cracking under the weight of everything he had been holding inside.

Joe raised his hands. “I haven’t done anything. Whatever this is—”

But Sam didn’t let him finish. He lunged forward, emotion drowned in instinct. Joe reacted quickly, stepping back, grabbing Sam’s arms, struggling to restrain him without hurting him. Workers came outside to intervene, but the fight was too heated, too emotionally charged. And then, as if drawn by instinct or fate, Kim emerged from the doorway.

“Enough!” she shouted, stepping between them before either man could land a blow. Rain soaked her hair, her clothes, but her expression was fierce. “Both of you—stop this right now.”

Sam froze. Joe lowered his arms. For a moment, everything was still.

And then Sam said the words that finally shattered Kim’s composure.

“You think you can control this, Kim? You think you can save him? Or save the farm? But you’re the reason all this is happening. You’re the one who dragged Joe back here. And you’re the one who’s gonna pay the price.”

His voice wasn’t threatening. It was devastated.

And Kim, for the first time, understood that this feud wasn’t just between Sam and Joe.

It was consuming her too.

After that confrontation, the balance in the village shifted. Sam became withdrawn but unpredictably volatile, his family watching him with growing concern. Joe tried to keep his distance, but something inside him twisted with guilt and defensive anger. Kim, however, was the one most shaken. For the first time in years, she felt vulnerable—in danger not from an external enemy, but from the emotional implosion occurring within her own walls.

Then came the night everything took a darker, more dangerous turn.

Kim was alone in the Home Farm stables, checking on one of the horses who had been acting strangely earlier that day. The wind howled outside, rattling the barn doors. Rain hammered against the roof with a force that made the structure shudder. As she stroked the horse’s mane, she heard footsteps behind her. Heavy, unsteady footsteps.

She turned slowly.

The shadows shifted.

A figure stepped forward.

“Sam?” she said softly, startled but not afraid.

Sam looked wild, not angry but desperate, soaked from the rain and breathing heavily.

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” he said.

Kim swallowed, sensing a lie or a half-truth. “Then why are you here?”

Sam stepped closer. “You need to leave Joe alone. You need to stop this. He’ll ruin you. And I can’t let that happen. Not again.”

Kim’s breath caught. “Sam, Joe isn’t your enemy. And I’m not either.”

But Sam shook his head violently. “You don’t understand. When he hurts people, when he manipulates everything—it always comes back on us. On my family. On me. And now it’s going to come back on you.”

Kim’s pulse quickened. “Sam, you’re not making sense. Let’s talk—properly.”

But Sam stepped closer.

Lightning flashed.

Thunder cracked.

And the barn doors burst open behind him.

Joe stood there, drenched, frantic.

“Sam—don’t,” Joe said. “Please.”

Kim looked between them.

Sam looked at Joe with devastation.

“This ends tonight,” Sam said.

And suddenly Kim understood—she was no longer a bystander.

She was the centrepiece in a ticking bomb.

As the rain poured, the three of them stood surrounded by shadows, tension thick enough to suffocate. Sam took one step forward. Joe took one step forward. And Kim felt her heart slam against her ribs.

This was not about land.

This was not about money.

This was not even about power.

This was about pain.

And she was standing in the middle of it.

“Stop,” she whispered, though wind nearly drowned her voice. “Please. This isn’t the way.”

But neither man heard her.

Because the storm outside wasn’t as loud as the storm within them.

Sam lunged.

Joe moved to intercept.

Kim stumbled backward, hitting a stack of heavy equipment.

A metal beam shifted.

The roof groaned.

And in one horrifying moment, lightning struck the old oak outside the barn, the impact sending a tremor through the ground.

The barn ceiling cracked.

Wood splintered.

Joe shouted.

Sam screamed her name.

And Kim knew, in a terrifying flash of truth—

Her life was now in danger.

Not because of fate.

Not because of the storm.

But because two men, driven by fear and history and emotion too heavy to bear, had lost themselves so completely in their feud that they had dragged her into the heart of their destruction.

And no one knew if anyone would make it out alive.

The sound that ripped through the barn was not a clean snap or a simple thud—it was a deep, resonant crack that seemed to vibrate through the earth itself, a warning that the structure around them had reached its breaking point. Dust rained from the beams above, fine grey powder drifting down like snow over Kim’s hair and shoulders. Her breath froze in her chest as she stared upward, watching the rafters shift, watching the shadow above her pulse with threat. Sam’s eyes widened, horror flashing across his expression as he realised what he had set in motion. Joe stumbled forward, arms outstretched, but the world around them seemed to slow, thickening into something syrupy and disjointed. The horse in the nearest stall whinnied, panicked, kicking at the wooden gate, the metallic ring of hooves echoing through the cavernous space as though the building itself were crying out.

Kim tried to move, but her leg was pinned behind a fallen metal tool chest, pain shooting upward like lightning. She grabbed the edge of a shelf to steady herself, her fingers slipping on the dust-coated surface. Above her, a beam creaked again, louder this time—a long, aching moan of wood under strain. She felt the weight of the moment settle over her like a shroud. The feud between Sam and Joe had grown into something so out of control that it now threatened not just their pride and history but her life. And in that terrifying instant, she understood how fragile all her power truly was. Years of dominance, strategy, manipulation, survival—all of it meant nothing beneath a collapsing roof.

Sam stepped toward her, but Joe intercepted him, pushing him back with more force than he intended. The two men locked eyes, frozen between fury and fear. Rain poured into the barn through the widening crack in the ceiling, fat droplets splattering onto the hay-strewn floor, forming small dark circles that spread outward like ink stains. The air smelled of wet wood, metal, and rising panic.

Kim tried again to pull her leg free, but the pain intensified, bursting like fire beneath her skin. She clenched her jaw, refusing to cry out. She would not show weakness—not even now, not even when fear twisted through her like a blade. She had faced down worse than this. She had thrown men like Graham out of her life. She had survived betrayals far deeper than any structural damage could inflict. She had risen from ashes more than once. But this was different. This danger wasn’t calculated or foreseeable. It was raw chaos, born from broken emotions and years of unresolved wounds between two men who didn’t understand the force they had unleashed.

“Kim!” Joe shouted, his voice cracking. He rushed to her, but Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him back.

“No,” Sam said, breathless. “You’ve done enough. Let me—”

“I’m not leaving her,” Joe snapped, yanking himself free. Their bodies collided again, desperate and clumsy, not fighting now but grappling for responsibility, for guilt, for control of a disaster neither had intended but both had created.

Kim glared at them, fury replacing fear for a brief moment. “Both of you stop this!” she shouted, her voice echoing sharply off the barn walls. “You’re going to get us all killed if you don’t—”

Before she could finish, the largest beam yet shifted, dropping several inches with a sickening thud. The entire barn shuddered. Sam stumbled. Joe lunged forward instinctively, grabbing Kim’s shoulder to steady her. The movement jarred her trapped leg and she gasped, the first real sound of pain she had allowed herself.

Joe’s face tightened. “We need to move her now.”

Sam shook his head, eyes darting around the space. “If we pull her wrong, we’ll crush her leg completely. We need something to lift the chest.”

“There’s no time!” Joe shouted back, pointing at the ceiling as another crack splintered along the rafters.

Sam’s voice trembled. “I’m not losing her. Not like this. Not because of this.”

Kim stared at him, her breath coming in shallow bursts. She could see how deeply he meant it. The fear in his eyes wasn’t the fear of a man guilty of wrongdoing—it was the fear of a man who had realised, too late, the irreversible consequences of his desperation. Sam had always been ruled by loyalty and heart, sometimes to his detriment, but never with ill intentions. And now he looked like a man drowning in regret.

“Sam,” she said, softer this time. “Help me. But you must stay calm.”

He nodded, swallowing hard. Joe knelt beside her, brushing dust from her sleeve. “On three,” he murmured, though his voice shook. “We lift the toolbox enough for Sam to pull her out. But gently. Slowly.”

Sam positioned himself behind her, slipping his arms around her shoulders. She stiffened at the contact—she hated relying on anyone—but she had no choice. Joe braced himself, gripping the heavy metal box with both hands.

“One,” he said.

Thunder rolled above them.

“Two—”

A piece of the roof collapsed behind Sam, sending debris scattering across the ground. He flinched but didn’t move away.

“Three!”

Joe heaved upward with everything he had. His muscles strained. The metal groaned. The toolbox lifted just enough.

“Now!” Joe shouted.

Sam pulled Kim backward, inch by inch, slow enough not to injure her further but fast enough to escape disaster. Kim bit down hard, refusing to scream, but tears pricked her eyes as the pain surged hot and relentless. Her leg slid free. Sam dragged her across the floor, away from the falling debris.

But before they could reach the open door, the roof finally gave way.

Half the barn collapsed.

Wooden beams slammed into the ground.

Dust exploded into the air.

The horse screamed.

The world vanished in a cloud of chaos.

Sam threw himself over Kim instinctively, shielding her with his own body. Joe dove toward them, arms raised, as a beam crashed inches from where he’d been standing seconds earlier. Darkness and debris swallowed everything. For a moment, silence followed, thick and suffocating.

Then coughing, gasping.

Joe pushed himself up from the splintered wood, his chest heaving. “Sam! Kim!”

Sam shifted, pain radiating through his back, but he kept one arm around Kim, who lay motionless beneath him. “I’ve got her,” he rasped. “She’s breathing.”

Joe crawled toward them, wincing at the crunch of glass and wood beneath his hands. “We need to get out of here. The rest of the roof could go.”

Kim opened her eyes, blinking through the dust. She had cuts on her cheek, her hair was plastered to her face with sweat and dirt, and her breathing was laboured. But she was alive. Somehow, impossibly, she was alive.

Sam helped her sit up, supporting her weight. She leaned against him, too weak to protest. “My leg,” she whispered hoarsely.

Joe examined it quickly, his brow furrowed. “It’s swollen. Could be fractured. We need a hospital.”

Kim looked between them. The two men who had nearly destroyed each other—and her—were now united in their desperation to save her. Her heart was torn between fury and gratitude, a tension she could barely process.

“Help me stand,” she said.

Both men moved instantly, one on each side, lifting her carefully. Debris crackled beneath their feet as they limped toward the exit. The rain outside had intensified, creating a curtain of water at the barn entrance. The night was cold, the wind sharp, the sky streaked with angry clouds—but it was freedom. Survival.

They stepped out into the storm, staggering away from the collapsing structure. Behind them, the barn groaned one last time before fully caving in, the sound echoing through the valley like a dying beast. Kim jumped at the noise, gripping Sam’s arm tighter. Sam held her steady. Joe placed a hand on her shoulder.

“We’re okay,” Joe murmured, though his voice trembled. “We made it.”

But Kim knew better.

They weren’t okay.

Not even close.

Her life had hung by a thread because two men—one driven by fear, one haunted by his past—had collided at Home Farm like hurricanes. And now, though the immediate danger had passed, the emotional storm was far from over.

Will arrived first, sprinting toward them with horror etched across his face. He wrapped his arms around Kim, holding her with a desperation that made Sam and Joe step back, each wrestling with their own guilt. Lydia appeared moments later, rushing to Sam, tears streaming down her face as she checked him for injuries. Workers from the farm emerged with flashlights, their eyes wide as they took in the ruins of the barn.

Emergency services were called.

Questions were asked.

But Kim said little.

Because she couldn’t yet find the words to describe the whirlwind inside her.

At the hospital, doctors confirmed her leg was badly sprained but not broken. Bruises decorated her ribs. A cut on her forehead required stitches. But physically, she would recover.

Emotionally, she wasn’t sure.

When Will finally left her bedside to get tea, when the nurses stepped away, when the corridor outside grew quiet, Kim closed her eyes and let the tears fall—not from pain, but from shock. From betrayal. From fear she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now.

Sam, meanwhile, sat alone in the waiting room, staring at his hands. He could still feel the moment he’d nearly lost control. He could still hear the cracking roof. He could still see Kim’s terrified face. Lydia sat beside him, holding his arm.

“Sam,” she whispered, “you saved her.”

He shook his head. “I nearly got her killed.”

Joe stood farther down the corridor, leaning against the wall, staring into nothing. He felt hollow. Everything he’d tried to rebuild had shattered in a single night. Not because he was malicious, not because he wanted chaos, but because he couldn’t escape the past. Sam’s accusations had cut deep because they had carried truth—truth he had spent years running from.

When a nurse approached and said Kim wanted to see them—both of them—Sam and Joe exchanged a glance. Not hatred. Not anger. Just the shared knowledge that the moment they walked into her room, their lives would change.

Kim sat upright in the hospital bed, bandages on her forehead, her leg elevated. Her expression was unreadable—calm, stern, pensive, wounded.

She gestured for them to sit.

They obeyed, sitting on opposite sides of the bed.

Her voice was steady, controlled. “You need to hear this,” she said. “Both of you.”

Neither man spoke.

“You nearly killed me tonight. And you nearly killed each other. Because you let anger dictate your actions instead of reason. Because you let fear and history guide you instead of truth. And because you both refused to look at what this feud has become.”

Sam swallowed. Joe looked down.

Kim continued, her tone sharper. “I won’t be caught between you anymore. I won’t have my life put at risk because the two of you can’t manage your emotions.”

Sam flinched.

Joe closed his eyes.

“But listen to me,” she said softly, surprising them. “You didn’t just put me in danger. You put yourselves in danger. And that scares me more than anything.”

Both men looked up.

Kim’s gaze softened, ever so slightly. “You are not villains,” she said. “You are two men who let guilt and fear consume you. But that ends now.”

Sam’s voice broke as he whispered, “I’m sorry. I never meant—”

Joe interrupted, voice hoarse. “Neither did I.”

Kim raised a hand. “I know. That’s why you’re both still sitting here instead of in a police interview room.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Finally, Kim exhaled. “This feud ends tonight. The past stays in the past. And you will both work—with me—to rebuild what’s been broken. Not for business. Not for pride. But because none of us can survive another night like this.”

Sam nodded slowly, emotion flickering in his eyes.

Joe nodded too, guilt weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Kim closed her eyes for a moment, exhaustion settling over her.

When she opened them again, both men were still there.

And for the first time in weeks—

They weren’t fighting.

They were listening.

Together.

Outside the hospital, rain had finally stopped. The first hint of dawn began to break across the horizon, bathing Emmerdale in pale gold light. The nightmare of the night before lingered, but morning brought something else too—

A fragile, uncertain sense of peace.

Not forgiveness.

Not yet.

But the beginning of something that might—one day, with effort and healing—resemble it.

Because danger had pulled them to the edge, but truth had pulled them back.

And Kim Tate, survivor of countless battles, had lived to see another dawn.