By the time the older woman was through with her musings on this new perspective on her wayward daughter, Christina had settled down into miserable silence, awaiting her next set of horrifying challenges. Rafe took up the razor strop he had brought in from the tack room, where it had hung on a hook on the wall for years. Rumors had it that his predecessor as Foreman had used it to discipline the attractive young female grooms he preferred to hire to care for the large stable of horses kept on the Woodside property. If they misbehaved, they were faced with the choice of lowering their riding breeches and panties and bending over the saddle horse to take their licks, or picking up their checks and clearing out their lockers.
Rafe had not continued this tradition, preferring willing females
