Chapter Ten
Rafe guided his horse to the trailer, coaxing the animal inside with gentle encouragement. He affectionately rubbed Rocket’s nose, feeling the warmth of the horse’s breath against his hand. “Let’s see how many we can beat this year, buddy,” he said with a grin.
“Rafe?” came a voice from outside the trailer.
“I’ll be right out, Fred.” Rafe ran his hand along Rocket’s sleek back, feeling the muscles ripple beneath the glossy coat before stepping out into the sunlight. “Hey, what’s up?” he asked, squinting slightly against the bright light.
“Mary and I are heading to the fair today,” Fred replied, his voice filled with warmth. “I told her I wanted to see you race.”
Rafe’s grin widened. “I don’t know how I let Maggie talk me into this,” he admitted, shaking his head in disbelief.
Fred chuckled, a deep, hearty sound. “Son, a woman can talk a man into just about anything.”
“No kidding,” Rafe said, shaking his head with a rueful smile. He then turned serious, looking Fred in the eye. “I never asked you how you feel about me and Maggie.”
Fred’s brows furrowed in confusion. “What about you?”
“Are you okay with us being together? She’s like a daughter to you, Fred.”
“And you’re like a son,” Fred replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “Why would I be upset with two of my favorite people getting together?”
“I can’t offer her much,” Rafe confessed, his voice tinged with concern.
Fred placed a comforting hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Rafe, do you honestly think Maggie cares about material things? I see the way she looks at you, and it’s not your money she’s after.”
“I’m just a ranch manager, Fred,” Rafe said, a hint of doubt in his tone.
“I’m sure she doesn’t care,” Fred assured him. “Besides, one day you’ll have a ranch of your own. I’ve got to go pick up Mary. I’ll see you at the fair. Good luck.” With that, Fred turned and began walking away.
“Fred?” Rafe called after him, a touch of urgency in his voice. “I told you I don’t want this ranch.”
“Sorry, son, I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” Fred called back with a laugh, his footsteps fading away.
“Yeah, right,” Rafe muttered, a chuckle escaping his lips.
Rafe knew Fred was set on leaving the ranch to him. No matter how many times Rafe insisted he didn’t want it, Fred brushed it off. Fred had confided in Rafe that there was no one else he trusted to keep the ranch running. Fred believed in Rafe’s capabilities, even if Rafe himself had doubts. Junior, Fred’s other option, would sell it in a heartbeat, and Fred was determined that the ranch should carry on after he was gone. He knew Rafe would see to it.
With a deep sigh, Rafe realized that if Fred left it to him, he would have no choice but to honor his wishes. He would do whatever Fred wanted, ensuring the legacy lived on.
****
On the day of the race, Maggie could hardly contain her excitement. She loved watching the race, but this time, she would run across the street to him, whether he won or not.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said.
“It is. A little chilly but still a beautiful fall day.” Rafe maneuvered his truck into the parking lot, and they stepped out.
“I see Nate and Markie,” she said.
“Nate’s racing, but he knows he won’t win,” Rafe said with a chuckle.
“He just does it for fun.”
“Yeah, Nate doesn’t care if he wins or not.”
“You’re really close friends, aren’t you?”
“We have been since grade school.”
“Wow, that long, huh?”
Rafe looked at her with a frown, making Maggie laugh.
“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”
“Like you’re not far behind me.”
Maggie smiled, slid her arms around his waist and kissed his lips.
“Rafe.”
They turned to see Nate and Markie walking toward them.
“Hey, Nate,” Rafe said, then hugged Markie.
Maggie hugged them both, then watched Rafe unload Rocket from the trailer. She laughed as the horse started prancing.
“I think he knows he’s going to race,” Markie said as looked at the horse.
“I think so too.” Maggie smiled and watched Nate unload his horse.
As they made their way toward the street, a lot of people stopped them to wish them good luck, then she and Markie stood on the sidewalk as Rafe and Nate led their horses to where the race would start.
They positioned themselves toward the back of the pack, while most racers preferred to be at the front for a better chance at an early lead.
“Maggie? Do you mind if we watch with you?” Fred asked as he and Mary stopped beside her.
“Of course, not. I’d love it. Fred, Mary, this is Dr. Markie Russell, Markie, this is Fred Hancock and Mary Danson.”
“I know Dr. Russell,” Fred said with a grin.
Markie shook Mary’s hand. “Hello, Fred. Mary, it’s very nice to meet you.”
“What kind of doctor are you, Markie?”
“Veterinarian. That’s how Fred knows me.” Markie smiled. Mary nodded and smiled back.
Maggie watched Rafe mount his horse and as always, she thought he looked magnificent on that beast. She smiled when she saw him and Nate talking and laughing with other participants.
The announcer turned on the PA system, unleashing a piercing squeal that echoed through the air, causing everyone to groan and cover their ears. The racers were instructed to mount their horses, readying themselves for the competition. This year’s event had drawn a significant crowd, eager to witness the spectacle.
Rafe and the other riders pulled bandanas over their noses and mouths to shield themselves from the inevitable clouds of dust. Rafe’s rugged appearance was undeniable, looking like the essential cowboy. As he glanced across the street, his eyes met hers, and with a playful touch of the brim of his hat followed by a wink, he made her heart flutter. She couldn’t suppress the smile that spread across her face.
The sharp crack of a gunshot shattered the air, causing the crowd to flinch in unison. With a burst of energy, the racers surged forward, hooves pounding against the earth. Rafe, Nate, Warren Coleman, Trick Dillon, and Gage Beckett lingered strategically at the back, conserving their strength alongside a few others.
In no time, all that remained visible was the swirling dust kicked up by the horses’ hooves, veiling the riders as they vanished from sight. Maggie’s heart pounded in anticipation, her eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of their return. A few minutes later, the first riders reappeared, the crowd erupted into cheers, but her heart sank when she realized Rafe was not among them.
Markie nudged her, breaking her from her anxious thoughts. “What?” Maggie asked, the disappointment evident in her voice.
“Don’t look so disappointed,” Markie said, gesturing toward the returning riders.
Maggie’s laughter bubbled up as she spotted Rafe, his figure growing larger as he closed the distance with incredible speed. The crowd’s roar intensified as he maneuvered past Warren Coleman with a confident tip of his hat, crossing the finish line in a triumphant first place.
Overwhelmed with joy, she bounced on the balls of her feet, watching as Rafe smoothly dismounted without waiting for Rocket to come to a complete stop. With an exhilarating rush, she dashed across the street and leaped into his arms and pressed her lips to his.
“Congratulations,” she said, laughing when he picked her up.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he said in a teasing voice.
“We’re going to celebrate tonight,” she whispered in his ear.
“Can’t wait for that.” Rafe grinned, then he turned to other riders who came to congratulate him.
Maggie watched as he shook hands with everyone, then she saw Fred and Mary coming toward them.
“Good race, son,” Fred said as he shook Rafe’s hand.
“Thanks, Fred.”
“You’re welcome. Well, Mary and I are going to walk around the fair. You two go celebrate.” Fred grinned as he took Mary’s hand, and they walked away.
“I want to get some funnel cake before we leave,” Maggie said.
“Alright, then I need to get Rocket home. He needs to cool down and get some extra oats.” Rafe grinned as he he took her hand, and the reins and they walked back to where the trailer sat.
Once there, Rafe tied Rocket to the back, then he and Maggie walked back to the fairgrounds.
She knew that he didn’t want to leave Rocket out too long, so they quickly got their funnel cakes and after loading the horse, Rafe drove them to his place where they spent the rest of the day just relaxing.
A week later, Rafe sat comfortably at the worn wooden kitchen table with Fred, savoring the rich aroma and warmth of their freshly brewed coffee, when the sudden sound of a firm knock echoed through the quiet room. Both men exchanged glances, curiosity flickering in their eyes. With a nonchalant shrug, Fred pushed back his chair, its legs scraping softly against the tiled floor, and made his way to the door. As he swung it open, Rafe’s eyes widened in surprise, his coffee momentarily forgotten, as he heard Fred exclaim, “Frederick, what are you doing here?”
Junior stepped into the kitchen, his presence filling the room, but halted abruptly when his gaze fell upon Rafe seated at the table. Sensing the tension, Rafe rose from his chair, his posture alert and defensive, prepared to stand his ground and protect Fred if necessary.
“Yeah… Junior , what are you doing here?” Rafe’s voice carried a mixture of curiosity and warning, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Junior’s response was curt, “I don’t think it concerns you, Marshall.”
Rafe’s retort was swift and sharp, “Anything that has to do with Fred concerns me,” he snapped, his protective stance unwavering.
“Calm down, Rafe. I’m sure he’ll only be here for a few minutes. Come inside and get out of the cold,” Fred suggested, gesturing for his son to take a seat at the table, but Junior stayed where he was.
“I’d like to speak to you in private,” Frederick said to his father, his voice steady but eyes fixed warily on 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.
Although she stayed with him for a few nights, she usually stayed at her apartment, but it was Saturday and once the day ended, she was more than ready to leave.
“Is it me, or is this day dragging on?” Vanna whispered.
“It’s not you. I’ve looked at the clock every five minutes.”
“Are you going to your apartment?”
“No, I’m going to Rafe’s. I just hope the snow doesn’t amount to anything.”
“I hope not. I like the snow, but not if I have to drive in it.” Vanna sighed as more customers came in. “I hate to say this, but I can’t wait for the tourist season to be over. I just want to relax on the weekends with my man.”
“Me too.”
“You want to relax with my man?” Vanna teased.
Maggie laughed. “As gorgeous as your man is, I think I’ll keep the one I’ve got.”
“Can’t blame you there.” Vanna looked at her watch. “One more hour.”
“And it’s going to crawl.”
The women got back to work and soon it was time to close. Vanna walked with her around the building.
“Have you heard from your ex?”
“No. He visited Fred, but I don’t know what went on and Rafe said he confronted him in the barn. Frederick threatened to fire him once he inherited the ranch. I just hope Fred didn’t change his mind about leaving it to Rafe.” Maggie shook her head. “Frederick would sell that ranch as soon as possible.”
“That’s a shame. I hope Frederick didn’t convince Fred to do that.”
“You and me both.”
They reached Vanna’s vehicle, and Maggie unlocked her door as Vanna did the same. They waved at each other then drove off. Since she knew she was staying with Rafe for the weekend, she had packed a bag earlier, so she didn’t have to go upstairs, then come back down to her vehicle alone.
She just didn’t understand what Junior was up to, then she grinned when she realized she thought of him as Junior now.
Maggie’s engine idled at the stoplight, windshield wipers swishing away the first flakes of falling snow. Her heart fluttered with impatience—she hadn’t heard from Rafe all day, and that was unlike him. She frowned, pressing her gloved hand against the steering wheel, then spun into a nearby spot and tapped the call button on her phone.
“Hey, darlin’,” Rafe’s warm drawl crackled through the speaker.
“Is everything all right?” Maggie asked, scanning the empty street for ice patches.
“Yeah, why?”
“I just haven’t heard from you today.”
“I’m sorry about that. Joey took the day off, so I had to cover for him,” Rafe explained, chuckling. “Damn, I’m glad I’m not a ranch hand anymore.”
Maggie laughed into the phone. “I can imagine. Well, I’m on my way. I hope you’ve got the fire going.”
“Where you’re concerned, there’s always a fire going,” he teased.
She huffed out a laugh, her breath fogging the cold glass. “Good answer, cowboy. See you soon.”
“I’ll be here. Drive safe, the roads could be slick.”
“They’re clear in town, but I’ll take it slow.” She hung up and tucked her phone into the console, tension already loosening at the thought of Rafe’s cabin.
The drive out of town felt endless, streetlights disappearing behind drifting curtains of white. Maggie’s mind spun with both warmth and fear. She loved this man fiercely, and the thought that he might not feel the same made her chest tighten. But she was strong. Whatever happened, she’d treasure every moment they’d shared.
Thirty minutes later she eased the SUV onto the gravel driveway, the crunch of rocks under her tires. She killed the engine and stepped into the cold, crisp air, then trudged toward the glow of golden light spilling from the cabin windows.
The door swung open before she reached the porch. Rafe stepped out, his breath steaming in the chill.
“Were the roads bad?” he asked.
“Not really,” she said, leaning against the railing. “I had to wait at an accident, that’s all.” She tipped her head and grinned. “Did you miss me?”
“Of course,” he said, concern knitting his brow. “I was worried.”
She slipped her arms around his waist. “I should’ve called.”
He shrugged, pulling her close. “It’s fine, baby. Come on—I’m freezing my balls off.”
Maggie laughed. “I could warm you up.”
Rafe stared into her eyes. “No doubt there.”
Inside, the air was thick with the scent of pine logs burning in the stone hearth. Maggie kicked off her boots and changed into soft lounge pants and a worn T-shirt. She curled up beside Rafe on the sofa, his arm settling around her shoulders. The fire crackled, casting dancing shadows across wooden beams.
She sighed happily as he pressed a kiss to her temple. “This is nice.”
“Yeah,” he replied, his voice low.
Maggie sat up, tracing the lines of his face in the firelight. Something in his expression made her heart skip. “What’s wrong?”
He exhaled, eyes drifting to the dancing flames. “Fredrick’s been hanging around the barn. I don’t know what he and Fred talked about last time, but it’s not good. He’s planning something.”
Maggie frowned. “Maybe you should ask Fred what they discussed.”
Rafe shook his head. “It’s none of my business.”
“Bullshit,” she said softly. “It is your business. What if he threatened him?”
“You’re right,” Rafe conceded after a moment. “I’ll talk to him on Monday. For now, let’s forget about that prick and just relax.”
Maggie pressed closer, whispering, “I still think he’ll come after me.”
“I do, too,” Rafe admitted, squeezing her hand. “But for some reason, he just wants us to know he’s around.” He kissed her forehead, and the fire popped, sending a shower of sparks upward as they settled back into the warmth of the cabin.
****
Monday morning light crept across the snow-blanketed yard as Rafe lingered in the wide-open barn doorway, watching thick flakes drift down like feathered ghosts. Each swirling wisp carried the sharp sting of winter air, and his breath puffed out in ragged bursts. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket. He was determined to speak with Fred before the cold drove him back inside.
At last, he exhaled, and a little cloud faded before his face. Steeling himself, he trudged through the yard, his boots crunching in the half-frozen drifts. He kept his head bowed so the snow wouldn’t batter him in the face.
At the porch steps, he paused, stomped the snow from his boots. Then he raised a gloved fist to knock, when the door opened. Fred stood there in his faded denim shirt, a gentle smile creasing his weathered face.
“Damn, son,” Fred said. “What are you doing out in this?”
Rafe squared his shoulders against the breeze. “I need to talk. Got a minute?”
“Always for you. Come on in. I’ll fix you some coffee.”
Rafe nodded in gratitude. He removed his cowboy hat, and after wiping his feet on the mat, he stepped into the warmth of the kitchen. The air was rich with the smell of roasting beans. He removed his coat and hung it beside his hat.
“Have a seat,” Fred said. “I just made a pot. I’ll get myself another cup, then we can talk.”
Rafe settled onto the worn wooden chair. Through the window, the barn stood silent and pale under the snowfall. He watched Fred pour dark coffee into a mug and set it before him, steam curling in lazy tendrils.
“How many is that today?” Rafe asked, raising an eyebrow as he nodded toward Fred’s cup.
Fred shrugged, the lines around his eyes deepening. “I stopped counting years ago.”
“Probably a number too damned high,” Rafe muttered, and Fred chuckled.
“I do love my coffee,” Fred admitted, sliding into the chair opposite him. He folded his hands on the table. “What’s on your mind?”
Rafe lifted the mug to his lips, letting the bittersweet warmth seep into his fingers before he set it down. He cleared his throat. “I know it’s not my place… but I want to know what Junior said when he came by. If you’d rather I mind my own business, just say so.”
Fred’s gaze was steady, cradled by deep creases of concern and pride. “First off, you have every right to ask. You’re like a son to me. There’s nothing I’d hide.”
Rafe sighed and nodded. “Maggie suggested I talk to you.”
“Ah, Maggie,” Fred said, leaning back. “I was hoping that once she left Frederick, you two might see how right you were for each other.”
Rafe shook his head, stung by modesty. “I just don’t want to disappoint you.”
Fred reached across the table and patted Rafe’s forearm with calloused fingers. “You could never disappoint me, especially after what Frederick did to her.”
Rage flickered in Rafe’s eyes. “If I’d known sooner, I would have hunted him down and choked him with my bare hands.”
Fred closed his eyes, pain flickering across his face. “I can’t imagine what she endured. I taught that boy to respect women. Hitting her once was too much, but to…” He shook his head. “It breaks my heart.”
“She’s strong,” Rafe said softly. “She knows I’d never treat her that way.”
“I know,” Fred murmured. “The day I sent you to fetch my frame was my clumsy attempt to nudge you two together.”
Rafe smiled, a brief, honest curve of his lips. “You can be sneaky, Fred.”
Fred chuckled, then his face sobered. “Frederick spun me some story about taking over the ranch. Said he’d changed, wanted to make amends. Bullshit, if you ask me.”
“I don’t buy it either.”
“He only stayed a few minutes, but I could barely look at him. No real man hits a woman, let alone…” Fred’s voice cracked. He drained his cup and set it down firmly. “It was the last nail in that coffin.”
Rafe’s chest tightened. “He even threatened me, said I’d be out of work once he inherited.”
Fred’s eyes narrowed with resolve. “Well, he won’t. My mind is made up.”
Rafe frowned. “Fred—”
“Don’t ‘Fred’ me. My legacy here would be gone if Frederick got hold of this ranch. I know he’d sell it as quickly as he could.”
Fred’s stern expression softened into a crooked smile. “He did ask if he could visit—said he hated the motel. I told him he could visit if he kept the peace. I think he was hinting around about possibly staying here, but that won’t happen. We both know how dishonest he is.” His face darkened. “He stole my horses, Rafe. His own father’s livelihood.”
“That had to sting,” Rafe said quietly.
“It’s bad enough for anyone to steal but coming from my own blood.” Fred sighed, the weight of betrayal settling in each word. “He ain’t fit to run half a barn, let alone a ranch.”
Rafe agreed as he looked outside to see the snow continued to drift, muffling the world in quiet white.
“He doesn’t want the ranch; he just wants the money it would bring him.”
Fred nodded. “I know. Thank you for worrying about me, son.”
Rafe nodded. “Always, Fred.”
In the silence that followed, the two men sat at the table, the kitchen’s warmth wrapping around them like a promise. And out in the snowy yard, the ranch lay peaceful once more, at least for today.