Thrice Familiar

by Carolyn Haines

  “You’ll find they’re a right agreeable lot, with the exception of a few.” Mauve was practically beaming. “I knew when I said I’d cook for you that it would be all right Everyone thought I was crazy, that you’d be too hard to please. But you’ve proven them wrong in more ways than one.”

  “Thank you, Mauve.” Catherine felt the sting of tears. If nothing else, she’d won the heart of Mauve McBride, and that was no small accomplishment. Mauve was nobody’s fool.

  Once she was alone in her office, Catherine took out the four messages saying that Limerick was okay. The latest note, a threat regarding Old Mick’s life, was in the same hand. It had not been sealed with wax. Apparently the formalities were over. It was also the first solid piece of evidence should she decide to call in the authorities. The note was a threat against Old Mick’s safety, if not his very life. Up until this time, there had been no way that she could prove Old Mick had been kidnapped.

  Well, she had only to wait for a call of some sort. Only to wait. It was one of the hardest things she could imagine doing.

  As much as she dreaded it, she decided to go to the barn. The men must think her a fool. She’d puffed and blustered, and her horse was still missing. She’d accomplished nothing except endangering the life of one of her employees.

  She couldn’t ignore the possibility that someone at the barn had seen something that might help her find Old Mick before it was too late. If she had to crawl and beg, then she would. Pride was too expensive; she couldn’t afford it for the time being.

  The day was growing short and she picked up a heavy jacket and slipped into it. She checked the window seat for Familiar, but he wasn’t in sight. Had she imagined that he’d come in with her? She distinctly remembered him jumping out of the car and sniffing around like a dog. Who knew with that cat?

  Instead of going out the front, she cut through the kitchen, her mouth literally watering at the scent of the meal Mauve was preparing. If she knew Familiar, the cat would be parked somewhere nearby.

  She saw the tip of his tail as he sat patiently waiting in one of the kitchen chairs. He’d invaded Mauve’s kitchen just as he had the rest of the house—all with total complicity on the part of the humans involved.

  “I’m going to the barn for a few moments,” she said to Mauve.

  “Would you take these over to the men?” Mauve held out a platter of cookies.

  Catherine hesitated. Never in a million years would she have considered handing out cookies at the bank. She took the tray. She knew exactly what Mauve was doing. Beltene wasn’t a bank. She might be the owner, but what harm would it do to pass out a few cookies? It was a gesture the men would see and understand. The first step in her program to start over.

  “What a wonderful idea, Mauve. I’ll tell everyone you baked the biscuits, and I’m merely delivering than.”

  “Good girl,” Mauve agreed. “Dinner will be ready by the time you’re back.”

  “I’m starved,” she said, pushing the door open with her free hand. “And I know Familiar is famished. But then, isn’t he always?”

  The cat looked up at her and very slowly, carefully yawned, as if to say that a human’s sense of humor was beyond redemption. Then he hopped to the floor and followed her out the door.

  “Get her back in time to eat,” Mauve called to the cat. “You seem to be the only one around here who understands the importance of a good meal.”

  Catherine had made it across the road and was standing at the front door of the barn when she heard the vehicle approaching. Patrick pulled up beside her, his blue gaze moving over the picture she presented. He took in the tray, the cookies, and the cat at her heels.

  “Did you find anything?” Catherine knew the question was useless.

  He shook his head and got out of the Rover. “So Mauve’s up to patching things with the men.” Picking up a cookie, he forced a smile. “She knows how to do it, too. Sandies, my favorite kind of biscuit.”

  Catherine’s heart was pumping so hard she used both hands to hold the tray. Patrick’s face was stubbled with beard and the lines around his eyes were worn deeper than she’d ever seen them. But there was a light in his eyes that kindled something warm inside her.

  “You’re going to make a right good farm owner, Catherine,” Patrick said slowly. “You have good instincts.”

  “So we can both sink together.” There wasn’t any bitterness in her voice, just acceptance. “I’m to get a call tonight about Old Mick. I got a note threatening to hurt him if I didn’t tell where Limerick is.”

  “Old Mick hasn’t broken, or at least he didn’t tell them until....” Patrick stopped talking. “This could prove more interesting, or dangerous, than I thought. We’ve two sets of thieves. One has Old Mick and one has the horse.”

  “Two?” Catherine had followed his thinking.

  “They’re working at loggerheads against each other.”

  She filled him in on the similarities between the handwritten notes.

  “So, whoever wrote the notes knew where Limerick was in the first place and wanted him to stay there. They probably had intentions of snatching him from the hideout. That’s why they kept sending those reassuring notes, to prohibit you from doing anything. Someone got there before them though.”

  “And since I thought you had the horse and the notes were from you, I completely accepted the situation.”

  “And now that Limerick’s been stolen from the hideout, the party who wrote the notes is left out in the cold. So they snatched Old Mick, but now Old Mick doesn’t know where Limerick is.”

  Catherine lowered the tray of cookies onto the hood of the Rover and leaned against the warm vehicle. “This is like a spider’s web. The deeper we look, the more entangled we become. It isn’t just Limerick, now it’s Old Mick and David Trussell and Kent and you and two other factions. Where will all of this end?”

  She looked so beset with anxiety that Patrick didn’t think. He put his arm around her and drew her into the solid safety of his chest. “It will end with Old Mick and Limerick returned safely. The rest doesn’t really matter, or at least not that much. There’s criminal activity here, enough to keep the authorities properly busy for months. But that can be their worry. We’ve only to look out for the ones we love.”

  “You do love that old man, don’t you?” Catherine spoke into the warmth of his jacket. He smelled of horses and hay and maleness.

  “Old Mick’s been like a second father to me, except he never put the pressure on me that my own father did. Sort of best friend and father.”

  “And I’ve no doubt you love that horse.”

  “No matter what else you think of me in the long run, Catherine, you have to know that I would never have deliberately endangered Limerick.”

  Something in his voice made her slowly push back and look at him. “Is Limerick in some kind of danger? Have you learned something I need to know?”

  “All the way back I’ve been thinking. Something about what O’Day said kept troubling me.”

  “Benjie said someone saw the horse and rider two nights ago, on the Clifden road....”

  “Exactly where I was seen by that old man. But it’s the time. Two nights ago. Limerick’s been gone longer than that.”

  “Someone’s gotten the time confused is all.” Catherine didn’t understand why Patrick was hanging so stubbornly to the topic. No harm had been done except a few ghost stories had been spawned. There were tales of banshees and walking spirits aplenty in Ireland. One more wouldn’t hurt.

  “Except Benjie said he was seen by an entire family, and that he entreated them to take up arms for freedom, then jumped a stone wall and rode across a treacherous field toward the bogs.”

  Catherine visualized it all. The gray horse thundering up out of the mists, the call for freedom by a cloaked rider, and the horse pounding over the wall and disappearing into the mists and the bog.

  “Highly impressive story. Someone’s already embellishing the dickens out of your ri
de.”

  “Possibly.”

  “But what?” she pressed. He was looking past her, into the barn, as if some answer would come from there. She lifted her hands to his shoulders and felt the tension in him. There was something else going on with Patrick Shaw, something that had him strung tighter than high C on a concert harp.

  “What is it?” she asked again.

  “I’d like to go and find that family.”

  “The ones who saw Cuchulain?”

  He nodded. “You see, if O’Day had his story straight, then the horse might very well have been Limerick.” He finally looked at her, his blue eyes tormented by the possibilities he’d uncovered. “If it was Limerick, God help me, Catherine, it might be my fault. By accidentally starting that business with Cuchulain, I might have given some people the perfect opportunity to capitalize on it.”

  Catherine swallowed. Her throat was unaccountably dry. “You think Limerick’s been taken by rebels, by someone who deliberately plans to use him to ignite the passions of the people.”

  “Passions and fears. That’s the one thing I never considered when I hid him away in the bogs. And there’s more.” He forced himself to continue. “When my father died and my older brother didn’t come home or even send word, I let it be known that if he ever returned again, I’d turn him in myself. I created some bad blood with Colin’s mates. They might think it amusing to put me in a bad situation.”

  “If they have Limerick, they won’t care if they hurt or maim him.” Catherine knew it; she only said it aloud hoping that Patrick would contradict her.

  “They wouldn’t deliberately injure him, I don’t believe. But horse care was never high on the list of requirements they had for membership in their little club.” Patrick couldn’t help the bitterness. “I mean, Colin destroyed our family, why should one horse more or less matter to his friends?”

  “Patrick, what can I do?”

  “The worst of it is that you’re involved. It will give them double pleasure, you see. You’re an outsider. You don’t belong here.”

  “So the blade cuts two ways. Vengeance and revenge.” She felt the tears building, and she had to divert them. She’d be willing to lose Limerick, to let him go without a fight, if she could only believe whoever had him would take care of him.

  “They would never have taken Old Mick, so I didn’t even consider such a thing until I learned that whoever had Old Mick didn’t have the horse. This is far more serious than I’d ever expected.”

  “What are we to do? What can we do?”

  “Talk to the Adams first. Then we can stake out the seacoast road. If it’s Limerick, he’ll respond to me.” Patrick grinned. “I bred and raised that stallion. There are a few tricks left that no one could anticipate.”

  Patrick’s smile touched the cold, brittle part of her heart that had been frozen with fear. There was something special between Patrick and Limerick. Catherine accepted the full measure of what that meant. If anyone could save the stallion, it would be Patrick. She had to trust him and allow him to do whatever he planned to do.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said. “I can help.” At the consternation that crossed his face, she reached up and touched his chest. “Patrick, I need to help, and I won’t interfere.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “Let’s deliver these biscuits and grab a bite ourselves. We’ll wait until you get your phone call, and then we’ll travel to Clifden. Maybe you could arrange a different vehicle, one that no one would recognize as yours or mine.”

  “I can do that.” Mauve would gladly trade. She picked up the tray of cookies. “Shall we? As a team.”

  “Why not?” Patrick took her arm and led her into the barn. He saw the startled looks on the faces of grooms, trainers, and jockeys as they noticed the obvious bond between new owner and old.

  “So, you finally figured how to hang on to the farm?” Eamon McShane said, stepping out to confront them.

  “Have a biscuit, McShane,” Catherine said. “A bit of sugar might sweeten up your attitude.”

  “Well said, Miss Catherine,” Jack said. He gave Patrick a wink.

  There was applause and several whistles of approval. Catherine felt herself flush with pleasure. Well, she’d wanted to be accepted by her employees. Perhaps she was on the way.

  “We’ve a bit of a problem here,” Patrick said. He spoke clearly, but his tone was soft so that people stopped working and drifted around them. Catherine passed the cookies around until Timmy took the tray from her. It was his way of showing that he accepted her position, and didn’t mind. She gave him a grateful smile.

  “As you know, Limerick is gone. We’ve begun to believe that his plight might be dangerous. There’s been no ransom, no request for money, or anything else. He’s scheduled to race Saturday. That’s three days from now. He has to run, and we have to get him back. Now, has anyone seen a stranger on the premises, someone who might have been over at Catherine’s house to deliver envelopes or letters? Someone lurking about, watching?” Patrick kept his gaze on McShane. The assistant trainer looked down at the ground. If he wasn’t guilty of something, he surely acted as if he were.

  As if he felt Patrick’s stare, McShane suddenly looked up. “Ask Patrick what he did with the horse. Everyone knows he took him. Him and Old Mick, and now that old codger’s cut and run, leaving his work shuffled off on everyone else.”

  “We’re concerned about Old Mick,” Catherine said softly. “He was last seen at O’Flaherty’s bar.”

  “He’s not been home,” Timmy volunteered. “Patrick said he was with his son.”

  A murmur moved swiftly through the gathering of men. “Old Mick would never have left here voluntarily. I said that myself,” Sean said. “This was his life. If he’s missing this long, something bad’s fallen on him.”

  “I’m afraid he’s been kidnapped,” Patrick said. As he watched, McShane twitched. Patrick had to clench his fists to keep from jumping the other man and pounding the truth out of him.

  “Well, we’ve got to figure how to get him back,” Jack said. He gave Patrick a puzzled glance. “Old Mick is one of us. We can’t forget about him. Not even for a horse, Patrick,” he added softly.

  “We’ve no intention of forgetting him,” Catherine assured him. “Now you all know the truth. Limerick’s truly been stolen, and Old Mick has been kidnapped. Think hard. I’ve had five messages delivered to my house, all anonymously. The last one was a threat aimed at Old Mick. We’ve got to figure this out and be quick about it.”

  “This isn’t a game about Limerick’s knee,” Patrick said. He met the question in Jack’s eyes. “I did take Limerick in the beginning. I wanted to rest his leg, and I wasn’t certain Catherine would listen to me. What I did was wrong, maybe, but I’d no intention of keeping the horse.”

  “That’s a fine tale. You’ve taken him once, what’s to make us believe this isn’t part of your plan to keep him for yourself?” McShane’s voice was ugly.

  “There are reasons. Plenty. If I had him, he’d be back in time to race Saturday, you can be sure of that. But as long as Catherine’s sure, I don’t have to worry about your doubts, McShane. In fact, I’m worried about your honesty. I get the distinct impression—”

  “Let’s not make this personal,” Catherine interjected. Her fingers on Patrick’s forearm, light as her touch was, stopped him.

  Patrick recovered himself. “Keep a sharp watch, and let me or Catherine know if you remember or see anything.”

  “We will,” the men answered in chorus.

  Catherine twined her arm with Patrick’s as they left the barn. “Keep walking,” she said, moving toward the main house.

  “Why?” Patrick did as she requested, but he looked down at her. Her face was pale, but her eyes were glittering.

  “McShane is trouble. I can smell it all over him. I want to make him believe we’re as united a front as we can possibly be.”

  Patrick’s arms closed around her. “If it’s united you want to show, then
let’s give them a real look.” His lips claimed hers. What began as a teasing kiss, deepened. Drawing back, he smiled. “This isn’t a game of pretend, though, Catherine. In all of this madness, I can’t stop myself from thinking about you.”

  Catherine needed no explanation. She understood. Taking his hand, she led him away from the barn to a private spot sheltered by darkness and trees. This time, she was the initiator. When she was dizzy with the sensations of Patrick’s kiss, she pulled away. Leaning her head against his chest, she sighed. “Would we have ever found our way here without Limerick and Old Mick and all of this tragedy?”

  “We’re a stubborn pair,” Patrick said, his fingers weaving through her hair. “A mule-headed team, I’d say. Perhaps it took a mighty kick in the butt to wake us up to what we felt for one another. But there’s no doubt now what I’m feeling.” He kissed the top of her head. “But I’ll not speak of it until this is all settled between us. If Limerick is injured—”

  Catherine squeezed him tight. “Hush!” she demanded. She knew what he was about to say. If Limerick was injured, he’d assume the blame and the responsibility. He’d also leave. That was something she didn’t want to hear. “Mauve will be ready to skin me if I don’t get home for dinner,” Catherine said quickly.

  “Does that mean you’re inviting me to the big house to eat?” Patrick couldn’t help teasing her, even with things as bad as they were. They needed some lightness between them, even if it was just a few moments of banter.

  “For dinner, that’s correct. And to wait for that phone call. I need your help, Patrick.” She took his hand. “It’s a difficult thing for me to admit, that I need you. But I do.”

  “I’ve a feeling that we both need each other a great deal.” Patrick’s fingers closed on hers as they walked through the darkness to the house.

  By the time Catherine and Patrick sat down at the table for dinner, Familiar had already sampled the feast and was reclining on an antique chair near the table. One front paw outstretched, he purred with contentment and gave Mauve a ripply meow whenever she came near him.