Jason threw his head back and laughed. “Assaulted? It was a fight, pure and simple. But of course you’re going to make it sound more than it was. I should’ve known you’d take his side.”
Lincoln looked toward Red and stomped down the urge to pull his mate into his arms. “What happened?”
Grabbing some paper towels and shoving them at his nose, Red looked away. Even though Red was attacked, he wasn’t going to rat Jason out.
“He came in and slugged Red in the face.” His jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed, Roger jerked his hands toward Jason. “Then they wrestled, Red threw a few punches, and then Jason threw some until Brett pulled them apart.”
Lincoln glared at Jason. “You know my policy about fighting.”
“Man, fuck all of you.” Jason walked toward the bunkbeds as Lincoln turned to Red.
“You okay?” He wanted to examine Red’s face, but from the way his mate stood, that wouldn’t have been welcomed.
“Just reliving childhood memories,” Red said. “Memory Lane is a blast. I’m not sure why I don’t do this more often.”
Lincoln wasn’t sure if Red was joking or being serious. Had he been picked on as a kid? That thought made Lincoln’s Bengal snarl. He wanted to walk to where Jason was and kick his fucking ass.
Jason returned, a tattered gray gym bag tossed over one shoulder. He shoved past Roger and Brett and headed toward the door. Brett snarled, and Roger balled his hands into fists. Lincoln wasn’t sure why Jason was so pissed. It wasn’t as if they’d slept together and Lincoln had spurned him. He’d never flirted with the human, had never said anything that would have led Jason on.
But Lincoln had met men like Jason before—men who couldn’t handle rejection, as if it were a personal strike against their ego. The guy had never shown any tendency toward violence, and now Lincoln wanted to smack the fuck out of him for touching Red.
“You quitting?” Lincoln wanted to be clear on what Jason was doing.
Jason raised his hand, flipped them off, and stormed out.
“I think that was a yes,” Roger said. “Unless he’s showing us he hurt his finger when he was assaulting Red.”
To hell with Red’s “fuck off” vibe. Lincoln approached and pulled the paper towels away. “Let me take a look.”
“It’s fine,” Red grumbled. “I’ve been hit harder. He didn’t even loosen any teeth.”
“I’m still trying to figure out why he attacked you in the first place,” Brett said. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Sure it does.” Roger leaned against the counter, crossing his slim arms. “He’s been making snide remarks about Red being Lincoln’s pet. The guy was jealous.” Roger looked over at them. “You two got something going on?”
One look from Lincoln made Roger curl his lips in.
“That ain’t none of our business,” Brett said. “Come on. We got work to do, and I want to make sure Jason left the property and didn’t make a sniper’s nest in the barn.”
The two walked out, leaving Lincoln and Red alone.
“Okay, now that you don’t have to act all macho in front of the others, how’s your face?”
“Macho?” Red jerked away from Lincoln’s hands. “I wasn’t acting macho. It hardly hurts. What do you want me to do, break down and cry because Jason spanked my ass?” Red grunted. “Hard pass.”
“At least put some goddamn ice on your face.” Lincoln went to the freezer and grabbed a bag of frozen peas. “It’ll help keep the swelling down, and don’t get pissy with me.”
Red tossed the paper towels into the trash and pressed the bag against his nose. “This is cold.”
“Do you always whine?” Lincoln picked up overturned chairs and righted them. He went to the utility closet and grabbed a broom and dustpan to sweep the broken glass. It looked as if some dishes had been on the table when the scuffle started.
He recalled the day the bunkhouse had been completed. Lincoln had wanted to make sure any employees he’d had were comfortable when retiring for the day. He sank a lot of money into the building and didn’t want it destroyed.
Adam Perry had been the first to live there, before he became foreman and Lincoln had built him his own little house on the property.
The guy had had his jaw broken a few times before coming to work for Lincoln, but there had been a freak accident about a year ago where one of the horses had kicked Adam in the face.
That kick should’ve killed the guy. It had taken him months to heal, and Lincoln had greatly compensated him for the accident. That was when Adam started to mumble when talking.
Of course Lincoln had felt bad, though it hadn’t been his fault. Adam had gotten too close to an already spooked horse. The guy should’ve known better, but Lincoln hadn’t put any blame on Adam for the guy’s carelessness.
Brett and Roger had come to work for Lincoln at the same time, about three years ago, and then Jason had been hired a month before Red.
Lincoln had thought everything was fine, that his men got along. Never did he think Jason would attack Red.
In fact, where was Adam? Making sure his men didn’t try to kill each other was part of his job. He was in charge of the ranch workers.
The door opened, and Mercy stepped in. “I heard about what happened.” He hurried over to Red. “Oh my god, that brute!”
A smile formed behind the bag of frozen peas. “You missed the fight. Too bad someone didn’t record it.”
Mercy looked at Lincoln. “What the hell happened?”
“I went to bury that coyote, and Jason showed up.” Lincoln told his brother and Red what had transpired.
“He kicked my ass because you rejected him?” Red asked. “Is there anyone else I should be worried about? You got a string of rejects in town?”
“I think he’s calling you handsome.” Mercy grinned. “It’s a compliment, in case your head is too thick.”
“I got what he said,” Lincoln snarled, though he was preening on the inside.
“Don’t get all growly with me,” Mercy said. He looked at Red. “Come on, you’re working in the house today.”
Red set the bag aside. “I already have work to do. I’ll be fine.”
Lincoln was going to have Brett keep an eye on Red. He wasn’t sure if this was over with Jason, and Lincoln wasn’t taking any chances. If Jason returned, Lincoln would show him what a real ass-kicking looked like.
* * * *
“Here you go.” Roger handed Red a bottle of beer. They were seated on a log, a campfire crackling in front of them. Brett was stretched out in the grass, and Mercy had a stick with a marshmallow at the end, roasting it over the open flames.
“Thanks.” Red glanced at where Lincoln was slouched in a chair, his legs parted, his face hauntingly lit by the glow of the flames. He had no idea where Adam was, and Red didn’t care. Ever since Rhinestone had returned to the stables after taking off, Adam had avoided Red, as if Red had mistreated the horse in some way.
Brett, Roger, and Mercy were telling hilarious stories about things that had happened to them, but Red didn’t contribute. He still held his past close to the vest, still didn’t want anyone knowing anything about him.