Page 23 of Honoring Freedom
“Hey, Freedom,” one of the men leered.
Keller stood to attention. Freedom was coming his direction but was waylaid by the group’s attention.
The one named Kent took a step outside of the circle and greeted her with a dip of his Stetson. “You’re looking wonderful. How’s my horse these days?”
Gritting his teeth, Keller set his glass down. He didn’t even like that the man had her name on his lips. He also didn’t appreciate how the man looked at her and the things he must be thinking.
“Evening, Kent,” she said with an undercurrent of animosity. “My horse is doing very well, just as we knew he would.”
The peanut gallery suddenly became incredibly quiet.
“Have you considered my offer?”
“Buying Requiem? No, I haven’t. He’s not up for sale just as I told you the previous times you asked,” Freedom said stiffly.
“Don’t scoff at my generosity, sweetheart. That horse was supposed to be mine.” There was a bit of impatience to the man’s tone. The tension was slowly building.
Keller took a step, but still stayed far enough back to allow Freedom to handle the situation.
“If he was supposed to be yours you’d have him.”
“We all know you pulled in a favor to buy him out from underneath me,” Kent didn’t bother to hide his irritation.
“That tactic is something you should know very well considering you’ve made it your life’s work to slither in and steal ranchers’ land right out from underneath them.” Freedom wasn’t pulling any punches.
Kent chuckled. “Don’t be heartbroken when one day Sagebrush Rose is mine too.”
One of Kent’s buddies guffawed.
Keller still watched, waiting.
“How is Sam these days?” Kent asked. “I heard about the heart attack. What a shame.”
“He’s doing wonderful. Stronger than ever.” She started to take a step past Kent, but he blocked her path. “Is there something I can help you with?” She lifted her chin, holding the man’s gaze.
“How about a dance, Freedom? I promise I can dance better than any of these bastards. If you catch my drift?”
She smiled but it was more of a pity grin. “I don’t dance with insects. I smash them under my boot,” she said smoothly.
The men laughed.
“We can work all this hostility out in a more productive way. It’s time you stopped slumming and got a taste of pure cowboy.”
And that was how the man ended up on the floor, holding his bloody nose, and two men on each of Keller’s arms holding him back from tearing Kent apart limb by limb.
Somewhere in Keller’s brain he realized they’d gained the attention of others.
“What the hell’s your problem?” The man scrambled to his feet, still holding his nose. Blood leaked through his fingers like a sieve.
"I believe you understand what my issue is," Keller said coldly.
“Do you know who I am?”
“No, and I don’t give a damn,” Keller tried jerking his arms free but the men, and now a third had been added, held him tight in their grips.
Kent made a sound, a chuckle. Or simply a groan because he had so much blood running down his face. He crossed the short distance to Keller. Kent removed his hand from his nose and wiped it down Keller’s shirt. “You’ve made a grave mistake, Doc. Do you hear me? I eat men like you for breakfast,” he said under his breath so the bystanders couldn’t hear.
“Breakfast is at daylight, but I don’t suppose a stuffed shirt like you rolls out of bed that early,” Keller seethed.