Page 49 of Rafe

“That’s not a good idea, Fred,” Rafe responded, almost smirking as he noted Junior’s jaw tighten, a clear sign of his rising temper.

“I’ll be fine, Rafe. Besides, if anything happens to me, you know who was here,” Fred reassured, his tone calm yet firm.

“I’m not going to do anything to you,” Frederick retorted, his glare at Rafe sharp enough to cut, a silent promise that he wasn’t to be underestimated.

Rafe shrugged, meeting Fred’s eyes with a look of resigned understanding. “If you’re sure, I’ll go. I need to get back to work,” he said, his voice tinged with reluctance.

“I’m sure, son,” Fred replied, his voice steady.

Rafe nodded, a single decisive motion, then picked up his cup. He poured the last dregs of coffee down the drain, the liquid swirling away into the darkness, and set the cup in the sink. He moved toward the door, stopping in front of Junior, staring him in the eyes until he moved aside. Then retrieving his hat from its peg, he opened the door, placed the hat on his head, casting a shadow over his eyes, and turned to look at Fred.

“You know where to find me,” he said, his voice layered with a mix of warning and reassurance. His eyes narrowed at Junior, a final look of caution, before he stepped out into the frigid air.

Standing on the porch, he pulled on his leather gloves, the supple material stretching over his fingers. He paused, casting a glance over his shoulder at the closed door, suspicion etched in the lines of his face. He didn’t trust Junior, not in the slightest, and if Fred were harmed, Rafe would make sure Junior faced the consequences.

The next morning dawned in a blaze of pale light, and Rafe led Rocket into the barn as the wind whipped icy flurries against the weathered doors. In just a few days, the weather had changed, coating every rafter and bale of hay with a frost so fine it glittered like powdered diamonds. He had inspected the fence line before the sun climbed higher. As he guided Rocket forward, the stallion’s breath curled in frosty clouds, and the scrape of his hooves on the cement floor sounded hollow and urgent. Then a sudden creak from the barn door made Rafe look toward it.

Rafe released a long, exasperated sigh. Junior swaggered inside, shoulders thrown back, boots stirring up the mingled scents of musty hay and the sharp tang of horse sweat. Rafe shifted his weight, planting his boots firmly in the straw-scattered aisle. His pulse thumped like a drum. All he needed to do was just give the horse fresh water, toss in a generous scoop of oats, then hurry home to stoke the hearth before the chill bit any deeper.

Junior’s gaze settled on him with a mocking curl at the lips. “You always wanted her,” he sneered, each word laced with thinly veiled loathing.

Rafe’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. He pressed his lips together until the edge of his resolve went numb, stifling the retort that simmered on his tongue. He tilted his head, as though Junior didn’t even exist. All he cared about was cooling Rocket and beating the cold back with the firelight waiting at home.

“You can’t ignore me, Marshall!” Junior rasped, the sound slicing through the thick air like a rusty blade.

Rafe inhaled, tasting the bite of tension, and squared his shoulders—strong and immovable. He guided Rocket toward the far end of the barn, each hoof-fall echoing on the dusty floor. He could feel Junior’s gaze prickle at the back of his neck, and he knew he’d have to pass him soon. He pictured his own patience snapping like a brittle twig.

A small, triumphant curl of his lips betrayed Rafe’s satisfaction. Junior hated being dismissed. Rafe savored the cool flicker of victory.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Junior barked and lunged, fingers closing on Rafe’s sleeve as he tried to spin him around. He’d clearly underestimated the stallion’s instincts.

Rocket reared, nostrils flaring in puffs of steam, ears pinned flat. In a fluid, furious motion the horse turned and snapped his teeth around the fabric of Junior’s jacket. Junior yelped, stumbling backward as the material tore.

“Whoa, boy—easy now,” Rafe murmured, coiling the reins around his hand and soothing the stallion with a steady draw. Rocket planted all four hooves, let out a gusty snort—a quiet warning that no one threatened his master.

“That damn horse bit me!” Junior howled, clutching the shredded sleeve, eyes wide with outrage.

Rafe kept his voice low and even. “He bit your coat, not you. Count yourself lucky I didn’t let him finish the job.” He locked eyes with Junior, the barn’s dim light glinting on his narrowed gaze. “You’ve no business being here.”

Junior spat, “I can be wherever I damn well please. One day this ranch will be mine, and you’ll be out on your ass, Marshall.”

A slow, cool smirk curled Rafe’s mouth as he stared at him. “Step back. I’m taking Rocket to his stall now—unless you’d like to try handling him yourself.”

“I don’t even like horses,” Junior shouted.

“You sure don’t mind stealing them, though, do you? I don’t know what went on between you and Fred, but if you hurt that man in any way, you will deal with me.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“Yes, you are.”

They held each other in a standoff, the tension crackling like static in the cold air. At last Junior let out a furious huff, pivoted on his heel, and stormed out, slamming the barn door behind him. Silence settled like fresh snow.

Rafe exhaled, relief flooding his chest. He turned fully to Rocket, unfastening the reins and lifting off the saddle with ease. Leading the stallion into the cool shadow of his stall, he paused to run water from the hose and fill the feed bucket with oats. Finally, with one grateful whiny from Rocket, Rafe stepped from the stall and slipped away, eager at last to warm himself by the hearth’s blazing glow.

****

Maggie stood at the counter ringing up an order when more people entered the shop, and she bit back a sigh. Would this day ever end? She was so ready to go home to Rafe and relax in front of a crackling fire and relax.

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