Fallen

Chapter Twenty-Seven

A chilled breezed nipped at me, causing goosebumps to pepper my skin. Above the Settlement, the sky grew dark. The clouds were grey and ominous. They held a threat of the storm that was on its way. When rain did encase us, I hoped to be at April's house.

My pace quickened to the stables to deliver the envelope. Slipping through one of the large closed doors of the stables, I heard the unforgettable sound of a fist smacking skin. Spotting the source of the sound, I realized I had arrived at a bad time.

A short man, who wasn't barrel-shaped, punched a small boy in the eye. The boy fell back on the hay, a cry didn't leave his throat at the hit. He scrambled up onto his feet. Blood rolled down his thin chin from his reddened lips. The boy was struck several times before I had walked in. It took a second to notice the red hair, he was one of April's little brothers.

"You," the barrel chest man said, a sausage size finger pointed in the boy's face, "Do not drop another saddle, do you hear me?" He raised a hand to slap the boy.

The group of men, none of them who I knew, stood gathered around the scene. None of them took a step to help.

The slap sent the boy tumbling to the ground.

"Stop," I said before I could bite my lip.

The hand paused before the cowering boy. The man rounded, his face blotchy red with anger. "Who said that?" He looked past me.

"I did." Men shifted. I glanced at their faces and knew I made a terrible decision of getting between the man and the boy's punishment.

"You did?" he asked. It was a taunting question. His eyes were telling me to deny it. The body language of the men pleaded with me to do the same.

"Yes." I thought hard about what the boy's name was. It started with an M. Markie? Mike? "Maxwell is small. I think he didn't mean to drop the saddle."

"Oh?" the man straightened, his hands on his hips. "You think, do you now?"

The man looked around the room and I followed his glance. On this side of the stables was a long walkway, on the other side was the horse stables. Most of the horses had their large heads sticking out to watch the events unfold.

"Well, missy," the man took a step toward me and I wanted to step back but didn't. The man was as tall as me, maybe an inch taller. Despite the shortness, he was intimidating. "Women aren't supposed to think, now be quiet."

He turned back to the boy, his hand raised.

I reached for the man. There was a gasp around us as my fingers touched the fabric of the man's shirt. The man turned and his handprint stung my cheek. Stunned, my body froze, fingers touching the singing, hot skin.

"Why you filthy –" The hand rose again.

"She's new." A body forced himself between me and the short angry man. "You cannot blame her, can you? I think the boy had enough."

The tall body turned, an arm wrapped around my shoulders. He guided me through the circle of stable hands, down the row of the horse's heads, their large eyes watching us pass. We slipped through the back door and he pushed me to the side.

"Wow, you got a lot to learn." I glanced up, a familiar dimple accompanied clear blue eyes.

"I'm fine."

"Then why are you rubbing your cheek?" That smirk, I wanted to smack it off his perfect face. My hand dropped to my side and I took in my surroundings. I was facing the work fields, my back against the stables and Colt stood close. Almost too close for comfort.