Leah looked at the ground, refusing to meet his gaze.
“I was checking on my brother’s horse.”
“I’m sure Roy will take good care of him.”
“If only I could see for myself—” she said just as Bjorn reappeared holding the tether to McBannon. The stallion’s eyes were wild, as if he sensed danger, but he was following the lead, nervously mincing as Bjorn spoke soft words to him.
Roy spat on the ground. “What in Christ’s name do you think y’re doing?” Wiping his sweaty hand on the front of his tunic, Roy swaggered toward Bjorn. The stallion reared.
“Move slowly,” Bjorn warned as the first few drops of rain fell from the sky.
“Don’t tell me what to do, you stupid bastard! I’ve taken care of more horses than you’ll ever clean up after. They just need to know who’s boss! Come here, you!” Roy stripped the reins from Bjorn’s fingers.
“Be careful!” Bjorn yelled.
“Shut up!”
Whistling, the horse reared. Heavy hooves pawed the air.
“No, please …” Sorcha said. “McBannon, please …”
The huge stallion paid her no mind. Neighing loudly, he lunged, then reared again, his front hooves flailing the air.
“You bloody bastard.” Roy threw his weight into the reins and pulled hard on the lead, nearly snapping the leather.
The wind seemed to rise. Peasants and servants abandoned their tasks and inched closer to the stables. A group of children playing near the well stopped to watch. People were whispering, others shouting, some even laughing as the fat horsekeeper tried to calm his charge.
“Give me the reins,” Sorcha said, her eyes fixed on McBannon. “Slow, boy—”
“No!” Bjorn stepped forward. “Let me—”
“Get the hell away from me!” Roy snarled, his puffy face flushed and straining. “Bring me my whip.”
“Nay. I will calm him.” Sorcha reached for the bridle, but Roy jerked hard on the reins. McBannon stepped backward, the muscles in his great neck bulging as he strained against the tether.
Despite Roy’s strength, the stallion began to drag him forward. “This bloody animal needs to learn a lesson, and I’m more than willing to give him one.” The muscles in Roy’s arms flexed. He leaned back against the reins, digging in the worn heels of his boots.
McBannon reared again, twisting in the air, trying to rid himself of the horrid man.
“Who’s teaching who a lesson?” one of the carpenters yelled. Loud laughter erupted as a group of men gave up work in favor of watching the battle between horse and man.
“That’s it, Roy, give ’im bloody ’ell!” a guard yelled from the tower.
“Yeah, show ’im who’s boss!” another guard called, laughing at the fat man’s vain attempts to quiet the stallion. The children who had been near the well moved closer to the stables, three boys and a little girl with a smudged face.
“Let me hold him,” Sorcha commanded, fearful for the nervous stallion and unaware of the interested crowd. Sweat flecked the great beast’s hide, and his nostrils flared into the wind. His ears twitched anxiously, and blood colored the spittle that ran from the corner of his mouth. “He’s frightened. Give me the reins!”
“And have the beast kill you?” Roy spat on the ground. His forearms bulged with strain, and the cords in his thick neck stood out. “Bring me my damned whip!”
When Bjorn didn’t move, Roy inched closer to the stables, to the whip coiled on the peg.
Sorcha was frantic. “I can calm him—”
Roy sneered. “I’ll quiet the bastard!” With one hand he reached for the whip.
McBannon’s flesh quivered. Lather appeared on his great chest.
Fear curdled Sorcha’s insides. Without thinking, she ran forward. “Don’t—”