the door. Leaning her chin on a towel, she glanced
across the hall. Perhaps she should send for the magistrate before the girl’s
wounds healed.
Chapter 6
“You want to
do what!” Gray roared over Crowning Glory’s back.
The pony skittered
away from the sharp noise. Although not ready for a turn around the field, she
enjoyed her time in the corral. Contained but large enough to stretch her
knobby legs, the slatted border provided a generous area where she could run
and play. Dust and debris had covered her from the tip of her nose to her
tail. Tied to a post inside the barn, rinse water dripped from her coat as
Gray brushed the last of the pasture from her coat. She shuddered, spraying
Gray and Laura with tiny pellets of excess water.
“There’s no
need to raise your voice,” Laura chided and swept the droplets from her arms
and face. She reached her hand out and rubbed the horse’s neck in reassuring
strokes.
Gray’s sleeves
were rolled up to his elbow. He held the brush in his hand and leaned his
forearms on the horse’s back, resting his weight on the folded cuffs. “Would
you like for me to be hanged?” he asked. “Because that’s inevitable if the
magistrate is made aware of our house guest.”
“For once,
would you think with some reason?” his mother snapped. “Kat is healing, but
her wounds are still fresh. Two days isn’t long enough for that type of abuse
to disappear. She can tell the officials what happened. Her injuries are not
connected to us.”
“Have you
forgotten what occurred five years ago? Who do you think the magistrate will
believe? A strange woman who is currently living in our home or Reece, a man
who seems to be above the law.”
“Everyone will
believe the truth.”
Gray dragged
the brush down the filly’s side and flipped the water to the ground. “Like
they did the last time?” He scoffed. “I’m sorry, mother. I’ve no faith in
the outcome of this tale.”
She stepped
closer, staying his hand. “This is different.”
Hatred welled
up, en route to every available orifice. Raw and acidic, his throat burned as
he tried to curb the hazardous emotion. His mother didn’t deserve to encounter
the brunt of his hostilities. Shielding her from his anger, he dropped the
brush into the bucket and disappeared into the tack room. Although shock
registered in her eyes, she didn’t flinch.
“What happened
was horrible. Yes,” she conceded, shouting loud enough for him to hear her.
“What happened was unfair. I agree. But, events from the past will not
change.”
He stepped
from the room carrying a fresh bucket. Moving the pail to his right hand as he
passed in front of her, fresh water splashed against the wooden sides of the
container. “I have never tried to change the past,” he argued.
She stepped
backward, widening his path. “No, you haven’t. But, you have allowed it to
destroy your present and for that matter, your future.”
His shoulders
drooped and he glanced up to the ceiling. It was clear. She would not give up
without making her point. Without listening to another word, he knew what her
solution would be. She had made similar suggestions for the past two years.
“Stop going to
Crest Ridge,” she demanded. He practically spoke the words with her. “Give
yourself an opportunity to move on with your life.”
He untied the
lead and led the pony into the stall. Settling her in, he unbuckled the halter
and slipped it from her head. She stomped her foot and whinnied. Apparently
her time in the corral had worked up an appetite. Pulling fresh hay from the
bin, he filled her trough. His mother waited patiently on the other side of
the wrought iron bars. Her arms folded across her chest, and she tapped her
toe against the stone floor. “You know I have an obligation in Crest Ridge,”
he said, stepping from the stall and pulling the
across the hall. Perhaps she should send for the magistrate before the girl’s
wounds healed.
Chapter 6
“You want to
do what!” Gray roared over Crowning Glory’s back.
The pony skittered
away from the sharp noise. Although not ready for a turn around the field, she
enjoyed her time in the corral. Contained but large enough to stretch her
knobby legs, the slatted border provided a generous area where she could run
and play. Dust and debris had covered her from the tip of her nose to her
tail. Tied to a post inside the barn, rinse water dripped from her coat as
Gray brushed the last of the pasture from her coat. She shuddered, spraying
Gray and Laura with tiny pellets of excess water.
“There’s no
need to raise your voice,” Laura chided and swept the droplets from her arms
and face. She reached her hand out and rubbed the horse’s neck in reassuring
strokes.
Gray’s sleeves
were rolled up to his elbow. He held the brush in his hand and leaned his
forearms on the horse’s back, resting his weight on the folded cuffs. “Would
you like for me to be hanged?” he asked. “Because that’s inevitable if the
magistrate is made aware of our house guest.”
“For once,
would you think with some reason?” his mother snapped. “Kat is healing, but
her wounds are still fresh. Two days isn’t long enough for that type of abuse
to disappear. She can tell the officials what happened. Her injuries are not
connected to us.”
“Have you
forgotten what occurred five years ago? Who do you think the magistrate will
believe? A strange woman who is currently living in our home or Reece, a man
who seems to be above the law.”
“Everyone will
believe the truth.”
Gray dragged
the brush down the filly’s side and flipped the water to the ground. “Like
they did the last time?” He scoffed. “I’m sorry, mother. I’ve no faith in
the outcome of this tale.”
She stepped
closer, staying his hand. “This is different.”
Hatred welled
up, en route to every available orifice. Raw and acidic, his throat burned as
he tried to curb the hazardous emotion. His mother didn’t deserve to encounter
the brunt of his hostilities. Shielding her from his anger, he dropped the
brush into the bucket and disappeared into the tack room. Although shock
registered in her eyes, she didn’t flinch.
“What happened
was horrible. Yes,” she conceded, shouting loud enough for him to hear her.
“What happened was unfair. I agree. But, events from the past will not
change.”
He stepped
from the room carrying a fresh bucket. Moving the pail to his right hand as he
passed in front of her, fresh water splashed against the wooden sides of the
container. “I have never tried to change the past,” he argued.
She stepped
backward, widening his path. “No, you haven’t. But, you have allowed it to
destroy your present and for that matter, your future.”
His shoulders
drooped and he glanced up to the ceiling. It was clear. She would not give up
without making her point. Without listening to another word, he knew what her
solution would be. She had made similar suggestions for the past two years.
“Stop going to
Crest Ridge,” she demanded. He practically spoke the words with her. “Give
yourself an opportunity to move on with your life.”
He untied the
lead and led the pony into the stall. Settling her in, he unbuckled the halter
and slipped it from her head. She stomped her foot and whinnied. Apparently
her time in the corral had worked up an appetite. Pulling fresh hay from the
bin, he filled her trough. His mother waited patiently on the other side of
the wrought iron bars. Her arms folded across her chest, and she tapped her
toe against the stone floor. “You know I have an obligation in Crest Ridge,”
he said, stepping from the stall and pulling the
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