Everyone froze.
He rode up fast, eyes hard under the brim of his hat. His glare landed first on me, then on Hans, then swept the rest of the crew.
“I don’t know what the hell started this, and frankly, I don’t give a damn, but this stops right here,” he barked. “Hans, homophobia has no place on this ranch, and if Hudson hadn’t already made you bleed, I would have knocked your fucking teeth out for passing comments about my son. You’ve got a decade on my son, but Matty’s already more of a man than you’ll ever be.”
“I don’t need to take shit from you.” Hans rubbed his jawand took another step toward me. I squared up, ready to drop him again.
Click.
The unmistakable sound of a shotgun cocking silenced the yard.
Gray swung down from his horse, calm as ever, his rifle in one hand, finger brushing the trigger.
“Go on,” he said, voice low and deadly. “Give me a reason to fill your hide with holes.”
Hans froze.
“You’ve seen me shoot the head clean off a rattlesnake in the past, and you’re a much bigger target.” Gray leveled the barrel, not flinching. “You say my son’s name once more, and Holler & Sons will be short one casket come sunset.”
Hans’s Adam’s apple bobbed hard as he swallowed. No one moved. No one dared breathe. I’d never seen Gray that livid before, and I believed he meant every word coming out of his mouth.
“Now,” Gray said, steel in every word, “get the fuck off my land. I will not tell you twice.”
Hans backed up slowly, fists clenched, lip bleeding. He spat onto the dirt. “This ain’t over. I’ll sue all your asses. Watch.”
He stormed off, muttering under his breath. We didn’t speak until he got into his truck and drove away quickly, leaving behind a trail of dust.
Gray holstered his rifle and turned to the remaining hands, his voice steady but sharp as a blade. “Anybody else got comments on what goes on in my bedroom and that of my son’s?”
A couple of them shifted awkwardly, but they all shook their heads.
“No, sir.” Boone tipped his hat. “None of my business. I’m just here for the work.”
“Then get to it.” Gray shifted his gaze to me, his jaw unclenching, his expression softening. “Hudson.”
I met his eyes, breathing hard, sweat on my brow, knuckles still stinging. The urge to punch something was still present. I’d wanted to beat Hans to a pulp. Did he really think I would have let him badmouth Matty and not do anything?
“Call it a day,” Gray said. “Cool off. You earned it.”
But did I? Because lately, I felt like the only thing I deserved…earned was Matty’s hatred. Would he have faced all this ridicule and have his manhood questioned if not for me?
My shoulders sagged. “It was nothing.”
“Not to me. Thanks for standing up for my kid,” he said, quieter now.
I gave him a single nod, more embarrassed than proud. My face was hot from more than the sun, but I didn’t say anything. Just turned and headed to my horse.
He didn’t have to thank me. It was the easiest choice I’d made all damn day.
I swung into the saddle and rode toward the lake, needing the cold water, the quiet, the space to breathe. My hands were still shaking, still stained with Hans’s blood. My collarbone throbbed like hell, and my chest burned with the kind of fury that didn’t disappear after a few deep breaths.
I didn’t want Ivy to see me like this. Busted up and bristling with rage. I was supposed to be her safe place, not the kind of man who came home with blood on his knuckles and a black eye swelling shut.
That was past Hudson. The one without a care in theworld. The one who thought his family’s money would always protect him. Until it didn’t.
So I rode.
Out past the southern ridge, through the windbreak of cottonwoods, and toward the lake where the land dipped and softened and the trees gave a little shade. My thoughts were a storm, circling back to Hans’s smug face and his mouth. To Matty’s shoulders going rigid before he rode off.
