Whatever he was going to say was lost.

Storyteller CornerLost Words

Well, not really. I know what he was going to say. If the bell hadn’t interrupted, he would have said, “You guarded me, day and night. Not because you had to but because you wanted to.” That’s all. Not quite a confession of love, but near enough to one that it would have made Rafe wonder what else Jeremy wasn’t telling him.

Then again, Rafe was already wondering that.

That’s what Jeremy would have said had the bell not tolled. What he wanted to say was something else…

“You did, night and day. Not because of any vows you made but because you were in love with me as much as I was in love with you. Oh, by the way, I was very, very in love with you.”

Maybe not those exact words, but something like that anyway.

Chapter Twenty-Three

They split up. Jeremy went to get some provisions while Rafe went to the stables. Rafe had asked him how he would know which horses were theirs. Jeremy said, “You’ll know,” before disappearing down a hallway.

In the courtyard, Rafe followed his nose to the stables. It was dark inside the barn, scented with hay and horseflesh. He lit an oil lamp and carried it past the stalls.

Peering over the tops of the stall doors, he found all the horses sleeping. Brass plaques on the stall doors gave each horse’s name.

A spotted pinto horse was named Beans, and a pretty Appaloosa was dubbed Loosey-Goosey. A black stallion—Blackjack. A fog-gray mare—Quicksilver. He reached the stall of a horse with a golden coat named Sunny of a Gunny. What were those called? Palominos?

The Palomino raised his head and snorted. He bucked twice, so Rafe stepped back, scared he’d terrified it. But then the horse whinnied, and it was a jubilant sound. He put his long neck over the stall door and lowered his head as if trying to bow.

Rafe’s hand shook a little as he reached out to stroke the horse’s forehead.

“You know me?” he said, and the horse answered by nuzzling his neck. He pulled away but only to open the latch on the stall door and go inside. Sunny nearly knocked him over in his excitement to sniff him from head to toe, to nibble at his clothes and hair.

“All right, all right,” Rafe said with a soft laugh. “You know me. Wish I knew you.”

Sunny rested his long heavy neck over Rafe’s shoulder and sighed with contentment as he was stroked for the first time in years by his boy.

“I painted you once. I didn’t even know I was painting you. Thought I was ripping off Franz Marc’s Little Yellow Horses. But I wasn’t. It was you. My brain didn’t remember you but my paintbrush did.”

In his own painting, a red horse and a golden-yellow horse rested against each other while the sun set behind them.

Was the red horse in his painting also here?

“Wait here a sec,” Rafe said. He picked up his lantern and went to the next stall.

The brass plaque said the horse’s name was Reddy Freddy.

A golden horse named Sunny. A reddish-copper horse named Reddy Freddy.

“Rafe?” Jeremy called out.

“Down here. I found them,” Rafe said as Freddy put his head over the stall door and lightly nipped his shoulder.

“Hey, no biting,” Rafe said.

“He gets that from me,” Jeremy said. “Ah, there’s our lads. Hey, laddie, missed you.” Jeremy’s horse, Reddy Freddy, nearly broke the stall door trying to get to Jeremy.

“Hold on, Freddy. Calm down.” Jeremy went into the stall. “Here we are. I’m home.” He leaned against Freddy’s side, rubbed his long neck all over. “Love you too.”

“We have horses,” Rafe said in wonder. “We have horses that…match our hair.”

“Gifts from Skya. And these are not horses. These are Shanandoah mountain chargers. They’re strong as Clydesdales, fast as Arabians, and can live a hundred years. They love rocky terrain, stomping Bright Boys to death, and they’re massive whores for dried rainberries. Right?” he said to Freddy. “I said the magic word? Rainberries?”

Freddy snorted in happiness as Jeremy took a handful of berries from his pocket. Then he gave another handful to Rafe for Sunny.

“You raided their kitchen?” Rafe asked.

“It’s our kitchen, Rafe. We live here.”

“I’ve been here five hours,” Rafe said as his charger lapped every last berry out of his hand, “and I already know I would die for this place.”

“Please don’t,” Jeremy said like he’d forgotten they were joking with each other.

Rafe, taken aback by how serious Jeremy sounded, said, “I’ll try not to.”

“Good.” Jeremy nodded as he scratched Freddy under his chin. “Because if you die it’ll kill me.” He smiled, the old Jeremy again. “Skya would really kill me.”

Jeremy opened the stall door and in one swift movement mounted his horse. “We might make it by morning, but don’t come crying to me when your ass is screaming at you.”

“If my ass starts screaming, I’m crying about it to everyone.” Rafe got on Sunny’s back and again felt the muscle memory, the déjà vu he’d felt before, but a thousand times more so. This was his horse. They belonged together.

“One word of warning,” Jeremy said. “I’m your knight. If we get in a fight, I will fight to protect you, not myself. That’s how it works.”

“Right, because I outrank you.”

“You do,” he said. “Not that I ever let it stop me.”

“Stop you what?”

But Jeremy only gave him a roguish wink and rode out of the stables.

“What’s he not telling me, boy?” he asked Sunny, who only whinnied impatiently. “Not telling? See if I give you any more rainberries.”

Storyteller CornerSkipping Ahead

Rafe and Jeremy rode hard. Emilie slept miserably. We’ll skip ahead to the next morning if you don’t mind.

Chapter Twenty-Four