Chapter 12 Rumors in Blackthorn #2
The feed store functioned as Blackthorn's unofficial community center.
If you needed supplies, coffee, or gossip, this was the place.
Unfortunately, the gossip portion seemed especially active that morning.
I grabbed the paperwork for my order and headed toward the back storage area.
Halfway there, voices drifted around the corner.
Two men.
Local ranchers.
People I'd known for years.
Normally I would've announced my presence.
That day, I didn't get the chance.
Because one name immediately caught my attention.
Oliver.
I stopped walking.
Not intentionally.
Instinctively.
The conversation continued.
"Kid won't last."
The first voice sounded amused.
The second man laughed.
"Still surprised Ryder keeps him around."
Something cold settled inside my chest.
The kind of cold that usually preceded trouble.
I listened.
Against my better judgment.
Against common sense.
Against every lesson adulthood was supposed to teach.
"Pretty boy belongs back in the city."
More laughter.
The sound scraped against my nerves.
The first man lowered his voice.
Not enough.
"Never seen someone so out of place."
The second rancher snorted.
"You kidding? Half the town thinks Ryder adopted him."
The joke earned another round of laughter.
My grip tightened around the paperwork.
The urge to interrupt became increasingly difficult to ignore.
Then came the comment that finally did it.
The one that pushed me over the edge.
"Kid's soft."
The words sounded dismissive.
Cruel.
Ignorant.
Everything I hated about small-town assumptions.
"Always will be."
Silence followed.
Not theirs.
Mine.
The kind of silence that exists right before something breaks.
Then I stepped around the corner.
Both men immediately stopped talking.
Interesting.
Apparently they weren't quite as brave when the subject of discussion arrived.
Neither looked particularly comfortable.
Good.
I wasn't feeling especially comfortable either.
The older of the two attempted a smile.
A mistake.
"Morning, Ryder."
I stared at him.
The smile vanished.
Also good.
"Morning."
The word came out calm.
Dangerously calm.
Years of rodeo had taught me something valuable.
People trusted quiet anger far less than loud anger.
The second rancher cleared his throat.
Neither man seemed eager to continue the conversation now.
Imagine that.
I folded the paperwork once.
Carefully.
Deliberately.
Then looked directly at the first man.
"You got something to say about Oliver?"
The question landed hard.
Exactly the way I intended.
Both men exchanged a glance.
Cowards.
The first rancher laughed awkwardly.
"We were just talking."
"No."
My voice remained steady.
"You were gossiping."
Silence.
I continued.
Because once I started, stopping felt impossible.
"Funny thing about gossip."
Both men stayed very quiet.
"You usually hear it better when people aren't cowards."
The second rancher looked offended.
Good.
I was past caring.
The older man crossed his arms.
Defensive.
Embarrassed.
Caught.
"Nobody meant anything by it."
That excuse nearly made me laugh.
Nobody ever meant anything by it.
Until someone got hurt.
Until someone felt unwelcome.
Until someone started questioning whether they belonged.
Then suddenly nobody meant anything.
Funny how that worked.
I took a step forward.
Not threatening.
Not aggressive.
Just enough.
"Oliver works harder than half the people in this town."
The truth settled heavily into the room.
Neither man argued.
Because they couldn't.
"He shows up every day."
Another step.
"He learns."
Another.
"He helps people."
Silence.
"Meanwhile, grown men stand around feed stores discussing him like bored teenagers."
The second rancher's face turned red.
Excellent.
The embarrassment was overdue.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
The tension stretched.
Workers nearby pretended not to listen.
Failed miserably.
I noticed.
Didn't care.
Because something inside me had finally snapped.
The protective instinct I'd been trying to manage for months.
The frustration.
The anger.
All of it.
The thought of Oliver hearing those comments bothered me more than I wanted to admit.
More than it probably should have.
The kid had spent months rebuilding his confidence.
Fighting through old wounds.
Learning how to believe in himself again.
I wasn't about to let some small-town idiots tear that apart.
Not now.
Not ever.
Eventually the older rancher sighed.
"We weren't trying to cause trouble."
I stared at him.
Long enough to make him uncomfortable.
Then longer.
Finally, I spoke.
"Then stop."
Simple.
Direct.
Final.
The conversation ended right there.
It had to.
Neither man possessed anything useful to add.
I collected the feed order and left.
The entire drive back to Blackthorn Ranch, anger simmered beneath the surface.
Not explosive anger.
Protective anger.
The kind that stayed.
The kind that remembered.
The kind that waited.
The opportunity to use it arrived sooner than expected.
That Saturday's community event drew half the county.
Which meant half the county was available for gossip.
Wonderful.
I spotted Oliver several times throughout the afternoon.
Talking with ranch hands.
Visiting vendors.
Trying to enjoy himself.
Yet something seemed off.
A little quieter.
A little more distant.
The sight bothered me immediately.
Then I noticed several people watching him.
Whispering.
Looking away when caught.
The same nonsense.
Again.
Enough.
The realization settled into place.
Cold.
Certain.
I'd spent too much time worrying about keeping peace.
Too much time hoping people would mind their own business.
Clearly that wasn't happening.
So I stopped worrying.
A group of locals stood near one of the food stalls.
Several familiar faces.
Several familiar troublemakers.
I walked straight toward them.
The conversations died almost instantly.
Interesting.
Apparently my reputation still worked.
Good.
I looked around the group.
Making eye contact with each person.
One by one.
Then I spoke loudly enough for everyone nearby to hear.
"Anybody got a problem with Oliver?"
Silence.
Complete silence.
Exactly as expected.
I nodded once.
"That's what I thought."
Nobody moved.
Nobody spoke.
The crowd watched.
Waiting.
I didn't disappoint.
"Because if you're talking about him behind his back, you can say it to me instead."
The words carried across the gathering.
Sharp.
Clear.
Impossible to misunderstand.
Several people looked away.
Others suddenly found the ground fascinating.
Cowards.
Every last one.
I wasn't finished.
"Oliver works harder than most people I know."
The truth deserved witnesses.
"He belongs at Blackthorn."
Another pause.
"And if anyone has a problem with that, they're welcome to take it up with me."
The challenge hung in the air.
Open.
Public.
Final.
Nobody accepted it.
Not a single person.
The silence told me everything I needed to know.
I nodded once.
Conversation over.
Message delivered.
Then I turned around and walked away.
Toward the ranch hands.
Toward the music.
Toward Oliver.
The kid stood several yards away.
Eyes wide.
Clearly having heard every word.
Good.
Because there was one thing I wanted him to understand.
One thing I wanted the entire town to understand.
People could gossip about me all they wanted.
Hell, they had for years.
I didn't care.
But nobody talked about Oliver Hayes that way.
Nobody.
And if Blackthorn hadn't figured that out yet, they were about to.
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