I come a few steps closer, balling my fists.

“He says he was hasty to fire me.”

“Nobody’d be fool enough to take you back once they’re shot of you,” I say.

“He found out I was telling the truth about you, so he figures you were lying about me,” he says.

My blood surges through me as my breath goes deep and heavy.

From his pocket he takes a piece of iron with four finger loops and slips his right hand into it.

“He told me you wanted to shack up with that slave.”

My jaw tightens as I circle toward him, and he rounds the clearing toward me.

“You’re dumber than you look, Taylor. You don’t know which piece of ass is for keeping and which is for seeding. Next thing you’ll be proposing to a tavern whore.”

My teeth grind as I search the ground for a rock or stick.

“Now, don’t you worry, blacksmith. When I’m back in my old job, I’ll make sure she don’t miss you at all.”

He thrusts his pelvis miming the act, and I picture him on top of her, holding her down in that stable. I fly at him and he’s expecting me. He catches me hard in the ribs with his iron rings. I stagger back, fuming.

“My right hand wasn’t the same after you, so I got a little help for it.” He holds it up for me to see.

“Figures you’d need something like that to fight. Your dainty soft fists can’t handle a punch?”

“Come tomorrow, I’m gonna pick up where I left off. Same job, same cabin, and what else was I doing? Oh, yeah.” He palms his groin. “Showing your slave gal how a real man does it.”

He wants me to lose my head and, goddamnit, it’s working. I’m shaking and I can’t think straight. “If you ever touch her. If you go near her,” I shout.

He comes at me with his iron fist and I throw myself against him. We both fall to the ground, and I scramble away from him.

“I bet she’s a squealer,” he says. “I can’t wait to find out if she’s a squealer.”

There’s a palm-sized rock a few paces off and I grab it and face him just as he’s coming at me with those damn iron knuckles. I take a strong blow to my ribs, but I smash the rock to the side of his head, catching him unawares and sending him reeling. Blood flows from a gash on his hairline and he swipes at it with his arm. I hurt where he hit me and I want to curl into a ball, but I straighten up, wincing and clutching at my side.

“I’m gonna have your whore every goddamned night.”

I lunge at him, howling like a wounded beast, raining wild blows with that rock. He smashes his iron fist into my jaw, my ear, my neck, but I don’t stop. He will not touch her. Not ever again. He shoves me and I stagger backward, but when he comes for me again, I’m ready for him. He lunges at me and instead of dodging or hitting, I pull him toward me, tipping him off balance. I twist as we fall, landing on top of him, pinning him under me. With the rock, I bash at his face again and again. Beneath me, he squirms and bucks, but I right myself each time he shifts. I hear the crack of his nose breaking.