Handful of Sky by Tory Cates

hurriedly when he looked her way.
    As if the animal were a magic talisman against the desperate unhappiness threatening to crush down upon her, Shallie sought out Pegasus. The sight of the roan cheered her. He was worth whatever she had sacrificed to obtain him, and now he was hers.
    She found Wade in the barn and steeled herself to the task of directing the odious man. What she really longed for was a quiet corner somewhere in which to sob her heart out. Instead she was caught switching from one ill-fitting mask to another. With Jake McIver she’d played the good old girl; now she had to be the stern boss with a surly employee.
    “Wade.” Grudgingly, the hand directed his attention toward her. “There’s a blue dappled roan out in the corral. Could you load him up? We’re taking him back with us.” Instead of snapping to, Wade leaned languidly against a post and continued to silently eye Shallie. She did not enjoy the experience of having his reptilian gaze slither over her.
    “Wade, did you understand what I said? I want to be on the road in fifteen minutes.”
    “Fifteen minutes, eh? Doesn’t give you much time to say good-bye to the bronc-riding stud out there, does it, Miss Larkin?” There was a mocking emphasis on theword “Miss.” A dark, menacing undercurrent ran through his entire statement.
    Shallie suddenly became aware of how far the barn was from the other buildings.
    “Don’t look all shocked and innocent. I saw you two out there last night. Wouldn’t even turn on a light, would you? Think I couldn’t tell what you was doing? I saw how you followed him up to his bed.” Hoskins’s lips curled downward. The sullen mask of indifference he usually wore fell away with that sneer. Shallie saw the bitter, twisted man beneath and the hatred and cruelty that drove him. A thrum of fear beat through her as she realized how dangerously off balance he was.
    “Oh, you’re right and proper with the working hands, ain’t you, Miss Rodeo Contractor? But you start peeling off them drawers just like any of them other rodeo bunnies when a big buckle walks by.”
    Shallie had heard more than enough. She crested the wave of fear rising in her belly and headed for the barn’s one open door.
    “Hold it right there, little missy,” he commanded, his face contorted with a rage as hideous as his words had been. “I said, hold it!” When Shallie again ignored his command, Hoskins lunged forward, grabbing her forearm. “I told you not to be playing the fancy lady with me no more.” His acrid breath carried his words in a stench of frustrated fury that blew hot on Shallie’s neck.
    “Take your hands off of me, Wade Hoskins, you make me sick.”
    “You appear to have a hearing problem, Hoskins.” Hunt appeared silhouetted in the barn door. In the next instant he was beside Shallie, his hand breaking Hoskins’s grip as if the man’s fingers were so many dried twigs.
    “Get your gear and clear out,” he commanded. “Walk to the highway. From there you can hitch a ride. Now move!” Hunt reinforced his order with a boot toe to Hoskins’s posterior that sent him flying. The trembling man scrambled along on all fours until he could struggle to his feet and flee the barn. Hunt turned to Shallie, making certain she wasn’t hurt.
    “Told you I didn’t think much of your hired help.”
    Relief and nervousness forced a high-pitched giggle from Shallie’s throat. Before it was half out, a wracking sob overtook it. Hunt pulled her to his chest in a comforting embrace, patting her slender back until the hiccuping sobs had stopped.
    “I watched you head this way,” he explained in a low, calming voice, “and I followed you down to say good-bye. Apologize. I don’t know what. I just knew that I couldn’t let you leave without . . .” His words trailed off and he tried again. “I was angry last night. Furious. It wasn’t until this morning that I cooled down enough to ask myself honestly how I would have