Clouds and Rain

us.
    Then I‟ll try to explain.”
    Flynn briefly looked at Gable, then uncocked the rifle and lowered it. He still didn‟t look relaxed, though.
    Hunter and Grant lowered their hands. Gable continued to have a hard time not laughing at the situation, doing his best to stay serious.
    “So explain,” Gable said, trying to sound stern.
    “We‟re just here to protect our investment. Hunter‟s investment,” Grant corrected himself.

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    “Why don‟t you send your stable boy to your car or whatever else you‟re hiding for transportation, Hunter?” Gable admonished. From the corner of his eye he saw Grant frown. It gave him a perverse sort of pleasure.
    “Grant‟s not my….” Hunter stopped midsentence, then changed the subject. “We… I wanted to make sure that the mares and their unborn foals were doing okay.”
    “Come on, Hunter,” Gable said, trying to smooth things over.
    “You could have just called at the house and asked to see them.
    Although I appreciate your investment, for now, they‟re still my mares and they‟re still on my property and in my stable and eating my grass and my hay and my oats. I believe the only thing you and Flynn agreed upon was that the foals would be yours? After they‟re born.” Hunter nodded.
    “So for now, let us take care of them and I promise I‟ll give you a call as soon as one of them starts to announce his imminent arrival.” Hunter tipped his hat at Gable and gestured to Grant to follow him out of the stable.
    For the first time that afternoon, a smile broke on Flynn‟s face.
    He and Gable exchanged a look, but Flynn was clearly not ready to explain anything as long as Craig was still present.
    “I think I‟d better get on with my exercises,” Gable suggested.
    “Yeah, I have work to do as well,” Flynn agreed, a clear look of mischief still all over his face. “Can you take the gun?” Gable lifted his crutches and threw Flynn an apologetic look.
    “Craig?”
    “Oh no,” the therapist answered, waving his hands. “I‟m a city boy. I‟m not touching that.”
    Flynn chuckled and held the rifle over his shoulders in a decidedly James Dean stance. “Yeah, I grew up shooting rabbits. Two butch boys wouldn‟t have thrown me off too much.” Gable chuckled quietly and shook his head. “Let‟s go, Craig, before Dirty Harry here gets any more ideas.” 158

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    As they walked out of the barn, Craig‟s professional demeanor returned quickly enough. “Put some weight on your leg, Gabe.” Gable tentatively put his foot down and it hit the ground hard, making him pull it up again. “It‟s hard to tell where my foot is. I‟m afraid I‟ll stumble over it.”
    Craig put a soothing hand on Gable‟s shoulder. “That‟ll come in time. It takes some getting used to, Gabe. You‟ll have to learn to feel it all over again. Right now, because you haven‟t put any weight on that leg for so long, it feels like all the nerve endings are wired wrong, but that‟ll change eventually.”
    Gable wasn‟t too sure, but he didn‟t want to argue. Instead he set a good pace back to the house, trying, like Craig asked, to at least put his foot on the ground. It still felt alien, like it wasn‟t his leg, but then again, it wasn‟t.
    Later that night, after they‟d gone to bed, Flynn fell asleep almost immediately. Gable was still lying awake, though. For once he wasn‟t fretting over something; tonight his muscles were sore. His butt cheek felt overworked, and rubbing it didn‟t help. Maybe Craig was right and he‟d waited too long. The therapist had been adamant that he would recuperate. It would just take longer than with the average amputee.
    He‟d have to rebuild his muscles all over again.
    Gable turned onto his side, careful not to wake Flynn. That felt better on his back and his ass, but it made his bad leg twinge. He contorted his face, trying not to succumb to the uncontrollable need to shake it, to get rid of the itch at the sole of his foot—a foot he could no longer scratch.
    “Anything wrong, love?” Flynn asked.
    Gable shrugged. “Didn‟t mean to wake you. You worked hard.
    You‟re tired.”
    Flynn snuggled closer. “I don‟t mind.” He wrapped his arms around Gable and Gable gratefully accepted. “Does your leg hurt?” Gable shrugged.
    “Is it so hard to admit?”
    Gable shrugged again. Of course it was hard to admit.

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    “Does Craig push you too hard?”
    Gable shook his