Page 3 of Coyote

"Sierra?" Rafe called from the top of the stairs. "Who are you talking to?"

The boy came up off the floor. The knife rose with him, and Nimue pulled tight against his throat.

"Easy," I said. Then I raised my voice. "We've got company. Come down and meet him."

His head snapped toward me.

"I don't lie to Rafe," I told him. "Not for you. Not for anybody. But I'd put that knife down before he comes through the door. He's not going to hurt you. He's not allowed to, not in my kitchen."

Rafe came down one step at a time and stopped in the doorway in his undershirt. His hair was loose from its braid, and I wanted to fix it and kiss him, and tell him the boy was ours. But I stayed where I was.

He looked at the boy, the knife, the snake, the empty plate, and the second cup of coffee.

Then he sighed. "Sierra."

"I know."

"We've talked about this."

"I know that, too."

"You said that last time." He looked at the knife, not at me. "And the time before."

Rafe crossed the kitchen and stopped beyond the reach of the knife. Then he lowered himself onto his heels, folding all that size down until he looked up at the boy instead of down.

"That's a gopher snake," he said. "We had one in the tack room three years straight. She kept the mice down better than the cats did."

The boy said nothing, but his eyes left the back door and settled on Rafe.

"You know she can't hurt anybody," Rafe said.

"People don't know that. That's what she's for."

The corner of Rafe's mouth moved. "What do we call you?"

The boy looked at me before answering. "Coyote."

"Coyote." Rafe rose, his knees cracking, and stepped back to give him room. "All right. You finish eating. Then you wash. After that, you and I will talk."

He took my cup out of my hand, drank it, kissed the top of my head, and went upstairs to get dressed.

The knife lay flat on the table now, with the boy's hand resting over it.

"You got family anywhere?" I asked. "Anybody looking for you?"

He shook his head once.

"Nobody at all?"

"Nobody that's looking."

I cracked another egg into the pan.

"Percy," he said.

I kept my hands moving and my eyes on the stove. "That your name?"

"My mamma called me that. Nobody else."