Gerard threw Frank's wet clothes into the dryer, then prepared a late breakfast. Neither of them talked much. Despite Gerard's determination to overcome his shock, he couldn't quite forget those horrifying moments when he had been helpless at the hands of a madman, for he certainly was mad. No matter what he was doing or thinking, a lightning flash of memory would catapult him back to the attack, just for a minute, until he could regain control and put it from him again.

Frank watched him, knowing what he was experiencing by the way his slight body would tense, then slowly relax. He'd lived through flashbacks, of Vietnam, of prison, and he knew how they worked, as well as the toll they took. He wanted to take Gerard to bed again, to keep the shadows at bay for him, but knew from the occasional gingerness of his movements that he was too new to lovemaking for another bout right now to be anything other than abusive. When he was used to him... A very slight smile curved his lips as he thought of the hours of pleasure and all the different ways he would take him.

But first he had to find the man who had attacked him.

When his clothes were dry, Frank dressed and pulled Gerard out to the back porch with him. The rain had diminished to a drizzle, so he figured they wouldn't get too wet.

"Come out to the barn with me."

He said, taking his hand.

"Why?"

"I want to show you something."
"I've been in the barn. There's nothing interesting in there."
"There is today. You'll like it."

"All right."

They hurried through the drizzle to the old barn, which was dark and musty, without the warmth and rich, animal smells of his barn. Dust tickled Gerard's nose.

"It's too dark to see anything."

"There's enough light. Come on."

Still holding his hand, Frank led him into a stall where a couple of boards were missing from the wall, letting in the dreary light. After the darkness of the inner barn, he could see fairly well.

"What is it?"

"Look under the feed trough."

Gerard bent down and looked. Curled up, in a nest of dusty straw and an old towel he recognized, was Jet. Curled against Jet's belly were four little rat-looking things.
He straightened abruptly.

"Jet's a father!"

"Nope. Jet's a mother."

"A mother!"

Gerard stared at the cat, who stared back at him enigmatically before beginning to lick the kittens.

"I was specifically told that Jet is male."

"Well, Jet is female. Didn't you look?"

Gerard gave him a severe look.

"I don't make a habit of looking at an animal's private parts."

"Just mine, right?"

Gerard blushed, but couldn't deny the charge.

"Right."

Frank slipped his arms around Gerard's waist and pulled him close for a slow, warm kiss. He sighed and softened against him, reaching up to clasp the back of his neck as Frank's mouth moved over his. The strength of his body reassured Gerard, made him feel safe. When Frank's hard arms were around him, nothing could harm him.

"I have to go home."

Frank murmured when he lifted his mouth from his.

"Lucas will do as much as he can, but it takes both of us to get everything done."

Gerard had thought he could handle it, but panic seized him at the thought of being alone. Quickly he controlled himself and let his arms drop from around Frank's neck.

"Okay."

He started to ask if he'd see him later, but kept the words unsaid. Oddly, now that their relationship was so intimate, he felt far less sure of himself than he had before. Letting him get that close, letting him enter his body, had exposed a vulnerability he hadn't known was there. That kind of intimacy was a little scary.

"Get a jacket."

Frank said as they left the barn.

"I already have a jacket."

"I meant, get one now. You're going with me."

Gerard gave him a quick look, then dropped his gaze away from the awareness in his.

"I have to be alone sometime."

He said quietly.

"But not today. Go on, get that jacket."

He got the jacket and climbed up into Frank's truck, feeling as if he had been reprieved from execution. Maybe by the time night came he would have his fears under control.

Lucas came out of the barn as they drove up and walked to the passenger side of the truck. When Gerard opened the door, Lucas reached in and lifted him from the truck, then hugged him tightly.

"Are you all right?"

His young voice was gruff.
Gerard hugged him in return.

"He didn't hurt me. I was just scared."

Over his head Lucas looked at his father and saw the cold, controlled rage in those black eyes as they lingered on the slight man in his son's arms. Someone had dared to hurt him, and whoever it was would pay. Lucas felt a deep primitive anger, and knew it was only a fraction of what Frank felt. Their eyes met, and Frank gave a slight shake of his head, indicating that he didn't want Lucas to pursue the subject. Gerard was here to relax, not relive the attack.

Frank approached and looped his arm over Gerard's shoulder, using the pressure to turn him toward the stable.

"Feel up to helping with the chores?"

Gerard's eyes lit.

"Of course. I've always wanted to see how a ranch works."

Frank automatically shortened his long stride to match his as the three of them walked toward the stable.

"This isn't a ranch, exactly. I run a small herd, but more for training and our personal beef than any other reason."

"What sort of training?"

"Training the horses to work a herd. That's what I do. I break and train horses. Quarter horses mostly, for ranchers, but sometimes I handle the odd show horse or Thoroughbred, or a fractious pleasure mount."

"Don't Thoroughbred owners have their own trainers?"

He shrugged.

"Some horses are harder to train than others. An expensive horse isn't worth a damn if no one can get near him."

He didn't elaborate, but Gerard knew that he got the horses no one else was able to handle.

The long stable jutted out to the right of the barn. When they entered, Gerard inhaled the rich earth scents of horses, leather, manure, grain and hay. Long satiny necks poked over the stall doors, and inquisitive whickers filled the air. He had never been around horses much, but he wasn't afraid of them. He moved down the line, patting and stroking, murmuring to the animals.

"Are these all quarter horses?"

"No. That one in the next stall is a Canadian cutting horse—that's a type, not a breed. He belongs to a rancher in the next county north. Down in the last stall is a saddle-bred, for some big rancher's wife in Montana. He's going to give her the horse for her birthday in July. The rest of them are quarter horses."

They were all young horses, and as playful as children. Frank treated them as such, talking to them in a low, crooning tone, gentling them like overgrown babies. Gerard spent the entire afternoon in the stables with Frank and Lucas, watching them attend to the endless chores of cleaning and feeding, checking shoes, grooming. The drizzle finally stopped in the late afternoon, and Frank worked with a couple of the young quarter horses in the pen behind the stable, slowly and gently getting them accustomed to bits and saddles. He didn't rush them, or lose his patience when a fractious young horse shied away from him whenever Frank tried to lift a saddle onto his back. He just soothed the colt and reassured him before trying again. Before the afternoon was over, the colt was ambling around the pen as if he'd been wearing a saddle for years.

Gerard was enthralled, partly by his low, velvety voice, and partly by the way his strong hands moved over the young animals, teaching and soothing all at once. Frank had done that with him, but his hands had also excited him. He shivered as memories washed over him, and his nipples tightened.

"I've never seen anyone like him."

Lucas said beside him, keeping his tone low.

"I'm good, but not near as good as he is. I've never seen a horse he couldn't settle down. We had a stallion brought to us a couple of years ago. He'd been put out to stud, but he was so damn vicious the handlers couldn't control him. Dad just put him in a stall and left him alone, but every so often he'd leave sugar cubes, apples or carrots on the top of the stall door and stand there until the stallion got a good look at him. Then he'd walk off, and the stallion would get whatever he'd left on the door."

Lucas ran a hand through his hair.

"The stallion started watching for him and snorting at him if Dad was taking his time about getting the food over there. Then Dad stopped moving away, and the stallion, Ringer, had to come up to the door while Dad was there if he wanted the food. The first few times, he tried to tear the stall apart, but finally he gave in and got the food. Next he had to eat out of Dad's hand if he wanted his treat. Dad switched completely to carrots then, to make sure he didn't lose any fingers. Finally Ringer was hanging his head over the stall, and he'd nuzzle Dad's shirt like a kid hunting candy. Dad petted him and groomed him—Ringer loved being brushed—and gradually broke him to the saddle and started riding him. I worked with him, too, after Dad had him settled down, and I guess he finally decided he didn't have to fight all the time.
We had a mare come in heat, and Dad called Ringer's owner to ask if he wanted us to try Ringer on our mare. The guy gave his okay, Ringer performed like a real gentleman, and everybody was happy. The owner got his expensive stud civilised, and we got a hefty fee, as well as a hell of a colt out of the mare Ringer covered."

Gerard blinked at all this talk of being "in heat" and "covered," and cleared his throat.

"He's wonderful."

He agreed, and cleared his throat again. His skin felt hot and sensitive. He couldn't take his eyes off Frank, strong and lean and broad-shouldered, the weak sunlight glinting off his black hair.

"When we get through here, maybe we could do a few lessons tonight, since I missed Friday night."

Lucas said, interrupting his thoughts.
Gerard didn't like thinking about why he had missed Friday night, about the long hours spent waiting to hear if Frank had been jailed. This afternoon had been a small oasis of calm, with the semblance of normality, but it would be a long time before things were back to normal in the county. A young girl had been raped, and Gerard had been attacked the very next day. People would be enraged and wary, looking at their neighbours and wondering. God help any stranger who happened to wander through, at least until the man was caught.

Tires crunched on the gravel, and Lucas left his post to see who had ventured up on Iero's Mountain. He was back in a moment, with Clay Armstrong behind him. It was a replay of Friday afternoon, and Gerard felt his heart lurch; surely Clay wasn't going to arrest Frank now?

"Gerard."

Clay nodded at him and touched the brim of his hat.

"You doing okay?"

"Yes."

He said it firmly.

"I thought I'd find you up here. Do you feel like going over it again with me?"

Frank pulled off his gloves as he approached. His eyes were flinty.

"He went over it with you yesterday."

"Sometimes people remember little things after the shock has passed."

Because he sensed Frank was about to throw Clay off his property, Gerard turned and put his hand on his arm.

"It's okay. I'm okay."

He was lying, and Frank knew it, but his mouth had taken on that stubborn set that meant he wouldn't back down. Frank felt a tinge of amusement; his kitten was getting back some of his confidence, after all. But no way was he going to let Clay question him alone. He looked at Lucas.

"Put the horse up. I'm going with Gerard."

"That isn't necessary."

Clay said.

"It is to me."

Gerard felt dwarfed between the two big men as they walked up to the house; he thought he might soon find such protectiveness smothering. A smile touched his lips.

Clay probably felt he had to protect him from Frank as well as from another attack, while Frank was determined to protect him, period. Gerard wondered what Clay would think if he knew that he didn't want to be protected from Frank. Grandma would say Frank had taken advantage of him, and Gerard earnestly hoped he would do so again. Soon.

Frank caught his sidelong glance and stiffened as he felt his interest and warmth. Damn it, didn't he know how he'd react, and that it could get embarrassing? Already he could feel the tension in his loins. But, no, Gerard didn't know. Despite their early morning lovemaking, he was still too innocent about sex in general, and the effect he had on him in particular, to know what that look did to him. He hurried his step. He needed to sit down.

When they entered the kitchen, Gerard moved around making coffee as naturally as he would have in his own house, emphasizing to Clay that he and Frank were a couple. Folks in the county were just going to have to get used to it.

"Let's go through it from the beginning."

Clay said.
Gerard paused fractionally, then resumed his steady movements as he measured coffee into the percolator.

"I'd just bought new boots at Hearst's store and was walking back to my car—my boots! I dropped them! Did you see them? Did anyone pick them up?"

"I saw them, but I don't know what happened to them. I'll ask around."

"He must have been standing against the side of Hearst's store, because I'd have seen him if he had been on the other side of the alley. He just grabbed me and put his hand over my mouth. He held my head arched back, so I couldn't move it at all, and started dragging me down the alley. I got one hand free and reached back, trying to scratch his face, but he had on a ski mask. He hit me in the head with his fist and I—I really don't remember much after that until he pushed me down. I kept scratching him, and I think I clawed his hand, because he hit me again. Then I bit him on the hand, but I don't know if I drew blood.
Someone yelled, and he got up and ran. He put his hand on the ground right in front of my face when he got up. His sleeve was blue, and he had freckles on his hand. A lot of freckles. Then... you were there."

He fell silent and moved to look out the kitchen window, his back to the men sitting at the table, so he didn't see the murderous look in Frank's eyes, or the way his big fists clenched, but Clay did, and it worried him.

"I was the one who yelled. I saw the package lying on the ground and went over to see what it was, and then I heard scuffling from the back of the building. When I saw him, I yelled and pulled my revolver, and fired over his head to try to stop him."

Frank looked savage.

"You should have shot the son of a bitch. That would have stopped him."

In retrospect Clay wished he'd shot the guy, too. At least then they wouldn't be racking their brains trying to put an ID to him, and the townspeople wouldn't be so jittery. Women were carrying an assortment of weapons with them wherever they went, even outside to hang the wash to dry. The mood people were in, it would be dangerous for a stranger to stop in the county.
That was what bothered him, and he said as much.

"It looks like someone would have noticed a stranger. Ruth is a small town, and people pretty well know everyone in the county. A stranger would have been noticed right off, especially one with long black hair."

Frank gave a wintry smile.

"Everyone would have thought it was me."

At the window, Gerard stiffened. He had been trying not to listen, trying to push away the memories that had been called up by his recounting of what had happened. He didn't turn around, but suddenly all his attention was focused on the conversation behind him. What Frank had said was true. On seeing his attacker's long black hair, Clay had immediately had Frank arrested.
But that long black hair, so distinctive, didn't fit with the wealth of rust-coloured freckles he'd seen on the man's hand. And his skin had been pale. Fair people freckled. The black hair didn't fit.
Unless it was a disguise. Unless the object had been to frame Frank.

Gerard's spine prickled, and he felt both hot and cold. Whoever had done it hadn't known that Frank had had his hair cut. But the choice of victim was puzzling; it didn't make sense. Why attack him? Surely no one would think Frank would attack the one person in town who'd championed him, and he'd made it plain how he felt. Unless he had been a random choice, it just didn't make sense. After all, there was no link between himself and Cathy Teele, no common ground. It could all be chance.
Still without turning around, he asked..

"Frank, do you know Cathy Teele? Have you ever spoken to her?"

"I know her by sight. I don't speak to little Anglo girls."

His tone was ironic.

"Their parents wouldn't like it."

"You're right about that."

Clay said wearily.

"A few months back Cathy told her mother you were the best-looking man around, and that she wouldn't mind dating Lucas if he weren't younger than she was. The whole town heard about it. Mrs. Teele pitched a fit."

That chill ran down Gerard's spine again. There was a link, after all: Frank. Nor could he dismiss it as coincidence, though something about the whole thing was skewed.
He twisted his hands together, and turned to face them.

"What if someone is deliberately trying to frame Frank?"

Frank's face went hard and blank, but Clay looked startled.

"Damn.."

He muttered.

"Why did you think of that?"

"The long black hair. It could have been a wig. The man had freckles on his hand, a lot of freckles, and his skin was pale."

Frank got to his feet, and though Gerard knew he never had anything to fear from him, he fell back a step at the expression in his eyes. He didn't say anything; he didn't have to. Gerard had seen him angry before, but this was different. He was enraged, but it was an icy rage, and he was in perfect control of himself. Perhaps that was what alarmed him.
Then Clay said..

"Sorry, but I don't think it'll wash. Once we had all thought about it, it didn't make sense that Frank would have attacked you, of all people. You've stood up for him right from the beginning, when the rest of the people in town—"

"Wouldn't spit on me if I were on fire."

Frank finished.
Clay couldn't deny it.

"Exactly."

The coffee had finished brewing, and Gerard poured three cups. They were silent and thoughtful as they sipped, all of them turning things around in their minds, trying to make the pieces fit. The truth was that no matter how things were arranged, something was always off, unless they went with the idea that a criminal had chosen Gerard and Cathy at random, and had perhaps used a long black wig for disguise by pure coincidence.
Everything in Gerard rejected the idea of coincidence. So that meant someone was deliberately trying to implicate Frank. But why choose him as a victim?
To punish Frank by hurting the people who had championed him?

It was all supposition, without a shred of evidence. Frank had lived here for years without anything like this happening, even though his presence was like salt on the wound of the town's conscience. They didn't like him, and he didn't let them forget. Still, they had all existed under a silent truce.
So what had triggered the violence?

Gerard rubbed his temples as a sudden twinge of pain threatened to become a full-scale headache. Since he seldom had headaches, he supposed the tension was getting to him, and determined not to let it.
He'd never been a Nervous Nellie and didn't intend to start now.
Clay sighed and pushed his empty cup back.

"Thanks for the coffee. I'll get the report finished tomorrow. I'll bring the papers by the school for you to sign—uh, are you planning to go to work, or stay home?"

"Why, work, of course."

"Of course."

Frank muttered, and scowled at him. Gerard lifted his chin at him. He saw no reason why he should suddenly become an invalid.

Clay left soon afterward, and Lucas came up from the stables to join in the dinner preparations. It felt right, the three of them together, working together as comfortably as if they had done so for years. Lucas winked at Gerard once, and he blushed, because it was fairly easy to read the expression in his young-old eyes. Awareness, amusement and approval were all there. Was he simply assuming he and Frank had become intimate because Frank had spent the night at his house, which he supposed was the common-sense thing to assume, or was there something different about him? What if everyone in town could just look at him and know?

Frank curved his hand around Gerard's waist. He had been standing motionless for several minutes, the pan in his hand forgotten, as he both frowned and blushed. The blush told Frank what he was thinking, and the familiar tension in his body made his fingers tighten until they dug into Gerard's ribs. He looked up at him, his hazel eyes wide and startled; then awareness shot into them, and his eyelids dropped to half veil the desire he couldn't disguise.
Lucas reached to take the pan from his nerveless fingers.

"I think I'll go see a movie somewhere."

He announced.
Gerard jerked his head around, tearing himself from the sensual spell Frank spun about him so easily.

"No! Your lessons, remember?"

"Another night won't hurt."

"Another night will hurt."

Gerard insisted.

"The Academy isn't something you can take for granted just because Senator Allard is going to recommend you. You can't afford to let up for a minute."

Frank released him.

"He's right, son. You can't let your grades slip."

He could wait. Barely.

It was after nine when Gerard closed the books he and Lucas had been using and stretched his arms over his head.

"Could you take me home now?"

He asked Frank, barely suppressing a yawn. It had been an eventful day.
His face was impassive.

"Why don't you stay here."

It was more of a command than a suggestion.

"I can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"It isn't proper."

"I stayed with you last night."

"That's different."

"How?"

"I was upset."

"Your bed's too small. Mine's bigger."

"I'm getting out of here."

Lucas said, and suited the action to the words. Gerard got huffy.

"Did you have to say that in front of him?"

"He knew anyway. Remember what I said about no going back?"

Gerard stilled and said..

"Yes."

That warm look entered his eyes again.

"I don't want to go back. But I can't stay here tonight. I have to go to work in the morning."

"No one would think any less of you if you didn't."

"I would."

He had that look again, the stubborn, determined expression of a fierce will.
Frank got to his feet.

"All right. I'll take you home."

He went into his bedroom and several minutes later reappeared with a small shaving kit in his hand and a change of clothes slung over his shoulder. He knocked briefly on Lucas' door as he passed it.

"I'll be home in the morning."

The door opened. Lucas was barefoot and shirtless, having been preparing to take a shower.

"Okay. Are you going to take him to school, or do you want me to?"

"I don't need anyone to take me to work."

Gerard interrupted.

"That's tough."

Frank turned back to his son.

"Baugh is bringing a couple of horses up in the morning, so I'll have to be here. You take him to school, and I'll get him in the afternoon."

"I'm driving my own car, and you can't stop me!"

"That's okay. You'll just have an escort."

Frank crossed the floor to him and took his arm.

"Ready?"

Realising that he'd made up his mind and there wasn't anything he could do about it, Gerard walked with him out to the truck. The night air was growing cold, but Frank's strong body radiated heat, and Gerard moved closer to him. As soon as they were in the truck, Frank roughly took him in his arms and bent his head to Gerard's. The younger man opened his mouth beneath Frank's onslaught and thrust his fingers into his thick hair. The warm taste of Frank's mouth filled him; the pressure of his arms around his rib cage, of his hard-muscled chest against his, drugged him more surely than any sedative. If Frank had pulled him down onto the seat and taken him right then, he wouldn't have objected.

As it was, when he put Gerard from him, his entire body was throbbing. He sat silently on the drive down the mountain, thinking of their lovemaking that morning, aching for it to be repeated. A thought echoed in his mind: so this was what it meant to be in love.

Jet was waiting patiently on the back doorstep. Gerard fed him—her!—while Frank showered and shaved. He didn't have a heavy beard, but two days' growth had darkened his jaw, and Gerard's face burned a little from contact with his when they had kissed. He felt that deep, almost painful sense of waiting again as he climbed the stairs to his bedroom.

Frank silently entered and stood for a moment watching Gerard before he sensed his presence and turned.

"The shower's yours."
Frank was naked, and slightly damp from the humidity in the bathroom. His black hair glistened under the light, and glittering droplets of water were caught in the dark curls of hair on his chest. He was already aroused. The throbbing in Gerard's body became acute.

Gerard showered, and afterward, for the first time, sprayed cologne on his pulse points. He had never bought cologne in his life, but luckily one of his students in California had given him the bottle as a goodbye gift. The scent was sweetly exotic.

He opened the bathroom door, then gasped and fell back. Frank was waiting for him in the doorway, his dark eyes narrow and fierce as they raked his slim body. Gerard had boldly left off his pyjamas, and under Frank's perusal the deep throbbing intensified. He put his big hands on Gerard's nipples, and they tightened even before he began rubbing them with his thumbs. Gerard stood very still, his breath quick and shallow, his eyes half closed as he tried to deal with the pleasure Frank's hands brought.

Frank's own eyes were narrow black slits.

"I wanted to do this the day I found you on the road."

He murmured.

"Such a pretty little body inside those ugly clothes. I wanted to take them off of you and see you naked."

The heat in his eyes, in his voice, made Gerard shiver and sway toward him. Frank pulled him out of the doorway and into the dark hall, then put his hands on his waist and lifted him. Gerard remembered when he had done that before and moaned even before Frank's mouth closed over his nipple. He sucked it so strongly that Gerard's back arched, and he cried out as his legs parted and wrapped around Frank's hips for balance. Frank groaned, unable to wait much longer. He had to get inside him or go mad.

Frank brought one hand up to his mouth and wet three fingers, then moved them down and behind Gerard, before gently pressing one inside. After a few minutes of carefully fingering and stretching the younger man, Gerard whimpering and mewling at the sensation, Frank shifted him, then guided himself and entered him, slowly.

Gerard gasped and shuddered, then went very still as Frank slowly pushed into him. It still hurt at first, but it was even better than before. His inner muscles clasped and relaxed as he accommodated Frank, sending waves of pleasure radiating out through his body. Gerard clung to him, gasping. Desire worked its magic on his body, tightening some muscles, loosening others, so that he was both taut and pliable as he slowly lifted himself, then sank back down. The effect of that small movement had both of them gasping, and Frank shifted to brace his back against the wall. Gerard did it again, then again. Frank put his hands on his buttocks to take control of the motion and began driving into him. Gerard's skin felt on fire. He radiated heat, making his skin feel tight and smooth and so extraordinarily sensitive that he could feel each of Frank's fingers on his bottom, the rasp of his chest hair against his smooth skin, the tiny nubs of Frank's nipples, the muscled wall of his belly, the coarse hair at his groin. Gerard could feel him deep inside of him.

Gerard's back arched, and his nerves convulsed. Frank fought his own response, not wanting it to end so quickly, and held him until he quietened. Then he carried him into the bedroom, Gerard's legs still locked around him, and eased him down on the bed.
Gerard swallowed and relaxed his hold on him.

"You haven't—?"

"Not yet."

Frank murmured, and began moving strongly into him.
Gerard didn't want it to end. He took his thrusts, cradled him when a harsh groan tore from his throat and the powerful shudders of completion shook him, and afterward held Frank as he rested on his body. Gerard didn't want him to withdraw, to leave him empty again. He had existed in a sort of genteel limbo all his life until he had met Frank and begun to live. In just a few short months Frank had so completely taken over the focus of his life that the years before were hazy.
Frank gathered himself and tried to move off him. Gerard tightened his legs around him, and he grunted.

"Let me up, sweetheart. I'm too heavy for you."

"No you aren't."

Gerard whispered, and kissed his throat.

"I weigh more than you do. Do you even weigh a hundred pounds?"

"Yes."

He said indignantly. He weighed a hundred and five.

"Not much more than that. I weigh one- thirty, and I'm taller than you. If I go to sleep on you, you'll smother."

He did sound drowsy. Gerard ran his hand down the muscled ridges of his side.

"I want to stay like this."

Frank thrust gently into him.

"Like this?"

"Yes."

He breathed the word.
Frank settled onto him, but shifted part of his weight to the side.

"Is this okay?"

It was wonderful. Gerard could breathe, but Frank was still close to him, still inside him. Frank quickly dozed off, as content as he with the position, and Gerard smiled in the darkness as he held him.

The dark thoughts slowly intruded. Someone had deliberately tried to frame Frank, to put him back in prison. The thought of Frank without his freedom was obscene and scary, because Gerard knew enough about him to know he would never let himself be sent to prison again.
Gerard wanted to keep him safe, to shield him in his arms, putting his own body between him and danger. Dear God, what had started it all? Things had been so quiet! What had been the trigger?

Then he knew, and horror almost stopped his breath. He had been the trigger.

While Frank and Lucas had been outcasts, punished for their heritage and Frank's past, everything had been calm. Then Gerard had come to town, an Anglo, but instead of aligning himself with the townspeople, he had championed the Ieros. With his help, Lucas had achieved an honour offered to very few. Other people had begun saying what a nice thing it was that the Iero boy was going to the Academy. Cathy Teele had said that Frank was the best-looking man in the county. The boundaries between the town and the Ieros had begun blurring. Someone, with a maggot of hate festering deep inside, had been unable to stand it.

And Gerard had been the cause of it all. If anything happened to Frank, it would be his fault.

Notes

Hi there chipmunks.. You ok?..

Please comment, stay safe, and peace out babies!
<3