Love Means_. Freedom - Andrew Grey

drinking a huge amount. "We need to let him eat for a while and then rest before we try to transport him. He could get colic and that wouldn't help."

    Stone knew that and left Geoff so he could fill the bucket from the hose. Carrying it back, he plunged in the wand and plugged it in. "I wish we had warmed the water for him to drink."

    "In the truck is my large Thermos. Adelle usually fills it with hot water so I can have tea. If she did, dump that in; it should take the chill off."
    Stone walked into the small tack room and got a blanket, handing it to Geoff before grabbing his saddle and carrying it to the truck. After stowing the saddle in the trailer, he retrieved the Thermos, which was indeed full of hot water. Carrying it back, he poured the water into the trough, making sure to mix it with the cold. "That's better, boy."
    "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!" Stone knew that voice and looked toward the door, seeing his father standing in the opening, carrying a gun. How many times had he seen him just like that? Wiry frame, his curly, out-of-control hair, jeans and a flannel shirt.

    "I'm just getting my horse," Stone said levelly, walking toward his father. He was surprised at how calm he felt--actually, how little he felt, period-when he looked at this man. "Then we'll be out of here."

    "I ought to shoot you for horse thieving." He tried to sound menacing, but Stone wasn't going to let him get to him. He needed to stand up to the old bastard, even though his stomach threatened to rebel again.

    "A man can't steal his own property, Dad. I have the bill of sale to prove it." Stone watched as his father lowered the gun, but kept it in his hands as he strode into the barn.

    "So, the queer I raised has returned," he jeered as he leaned against the stall door.

    "Better a queer than a piece of shit lowlife who would kick his own son out of the house for being gay." Stone gaped as Preston wheeled himself right up to his father.

    "You watch your mouth, boy!"

    "Or what? You gonna hit me? That'll look real good when the sheriff gets here, you hitting a guy in a wheelchair. Your friends down at the old feedbag will think you're a real man for doing that." Stone watched as Preston glared back at his father, moving closer. Stone suppressed a smile as his father backed away. "I wouldn't touch you if my life depended upon it. Who knows what I'll catch." The man actually looked scared.
    "What kind of man are you? You can't catch gayness, for God's sake." Stone watched as Preston turned in his chair. "He's your son!" Preston kept moving forward, and Stone's father kept backing away. Stone found it rewarding that the man who had intimidated him all those years was himself intimidated by a man in a wheelchair.
    "He's not my son! His father is some guy his mother slept with before we were married."
Stone raced forward. "You fucking liar!" His father backed away and out of the range of his punch.
    "I'm not lying, Stone. Your mother was already pregnant when I met her." The way he said it was matter-of-fact, and Stone stepped back, feeling like he'd been punched in the gut. His stomach started to roil, and he ran for the door, vomiting what little was in his stomach into the snow. Straightening up, he saw the man he'd thought was his father walking toward the house, turning around when Stone stood up. "Make sure you don't take nothing that ain't yours, or I'll call the sheriff." Turning back around, he walked up the steps and into the house, the front door closing with a thud.
    "I'm sorry, Stone." Turning around he saw Preston sitting in the doorway. When he approached, Preston put his arms out, and Stone accepted the hug. "The man's an ass."
"So what if I wasn't his son, why didn't he love me? I lived with him since I was born, and after Mom died, it was only him and me." Stone felt Preston's hands slide up and down his back, soothing him.
    "I can't tell you that, but whatever it was, it wasn't your fault and it wasn't something you did."
Stone pulled away. "How do you know that?"
    Preston pointed at the house. "Because he's the one with the problem. You're a good person who cares about other people, and he's the one that can't accept you for who you are." Preston took his hand, holding it between his. "He's the one who had years to tell you that he wasn't your father, but he waited until he knew it would hurt the most."
    "How do you know it wasn't me?"

    Preston swallowed. "Because I have great taste and I wouldn't