Lynn Michaels

by The Dreaming Pool

  “How is the old boy?” Ethan asked, jerking his glasses off as he pulled away from Gage and dragged his mud-streaked forearm across his eyes.

  “Sound enough, except that Byrne winged him. Looks clean, but he needs a vet and stitches.”

  “I’ll see to it.” Ethan slid his mud-splattered glasses over his nose. “There’s a trailer and a four-by-four waiting to take him down the mountain just as soon as they clear the track Byrne’s cousins rocked up. I’ll ask Faber to radio ahead for a vet.”

  Ethan had once again taken charge. Things were not back to normal, though, and Gage knew they never would be again. Looking over his brother’s shoulder, he saw that Harpo had been handcuffed and sat on a rock, head down, beside a man in a khaki uniform, and that someone had mercifully thrown a blanket over Byrne. Only his legs were visible, the left one twisted at an unnatural angle.

  “Where’s Eslin?” he asked.

  “With Gerald and Ramón.” Ethan nodded at the slowly turning rotors and the ground lights blinking on the closest of the two helicopters. “Gerald thinks Ramón’s arm may be broken.”

  “And Eslin?” Gage asked quietly, gazing at the chopper.

  “That’s another thing I was wrong about.” Ethan glanced away from him uncomfortably. “We should have told her all of it. Hell of a time to hear it with a gun at your head.”

  “It’s okay, Ethan.” He laid his hand on his brother’s arm. “I have a feeling she knew. Stay with Gany, will you?”

  The helicopter squatted on the canyon floor no more than forty feet away from him, yet it seemed to Gage that it took him forever to reach it. His ribs were throbbing, his right shoulder as numb as his brain. A dozen or so men were ducking and darting around the canyon with flashlights; by their brown belts and dark faces he judged them to be Mexican policemen, probably called in by the FBI man Faber, who swung himself out of the helicopter’s open door and nodded to him tightly as he approached. He was still tall, thin, and freckled, but otherwise bore no resemblance to the oddly dressed tourist they’d met in the motel garden in Mexico City. Just two days ago, Gage thought, and shivered. Faber looked tired and worn in plain trousers, a plaid shirt, and jacket.

  “Messy,” he said, shaking his head as he looked around the canyon. “I hate messes. They require too much paperwork.”

  He frowned at Gage, shook his head again, and walked away.

  Through the glare of the flashlights on the smoked Plexiglas window, Gage couldn’t see Eslin until he’d stepped past the door and leaned inside the chopper. There were two seats in the front, two in back, and Eslin sat huddled beneath a blanket in the one farthest away from him. She looked up at him, the reflection of the interior lights gleaming eerily on her drawn, mud-caked face. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing shallow and erratic. If she wasn’t in shock, she was damn close to it, and though Gage wanted with all his heart to crush her in his arms, he didn’t, just smiled at her.

  “Are you all right, love?” he asked softly.

  She bit her bottom lip and shook her head no. Her eyes filled slowly with tears.

  “There’s a trailer waiting to take Ganymede down the mountain,” Gage said. “He’s got a cut on his shoulder. It doesn’t look serious, and he seems calm enough now, but I have to ride back with him.”

  Eslin nodded that she understood. Some of it, anyway, the rest she doubted she’d ever understand.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about your father?” she asked thickly.

  “We were afraid that if you knew you wouldn’t help us find Ganymede,” Gage admitted. “I know now that it was stupid, that we underestimated you, and probably put you in danger because of it. Maybe if you’d known…”

  “No, it wouldn’t have changed anything.” Eslin sighed wearily. “I just”—her voice broke, and she wiped angrily at a tear that dripped off her chin—”I just thought you loved me, that’s all.”

  “I do, Eslin,” Gage told her quietly. “You know I do.”

  “Then you should have told me!” she cried. “You should have trusted me! I shouldn’t have had to hear it from Ramón! He overheard everything Aldridge said—he told me after you left us here to follow Marco’s cousins!”

  “You’re right. I should have told you. If I had it to do over again I would.”

  It wasn’t what she wanted to hear, but Gage didn’t know what else to say, didn’t know what else to do but lean between the seats and reach for her as she buried her face in her hands and started to sob. As his hand touched her arm, Eslin pulled away from him. He didn’t think she meant it—he hoped to God she didn’t mean it—still it hurt, but he tried not to let it show on his face.

  “Three men are dead because your father wanted to win a race,” she said, a flat, stony edge in her voice as she looked at him. “Dear God—”

  She buried her face in her hands again, and Gage looked behind him as he felt a hand settle on his shoulder. It was Fitzsimmons. He backed out of the chopper and pushed the cockpit door half-shut.

  “She doesn’t mean what she’s saying,” Fitzsimmons told him in a low voice. “She’s just done in—emotionally as well as physically.”

  “Aren’t we all?” Gage sighed raggedly and raked his fingers through his hair. “Get her out of here, will you?”

  “I’m going to, the other chopper’s just left with Ramón. Once she’s had a hot bath—”

  “No, I mean get her out of Oaxaca, out of Mexico. Take her home.”

  “She’ll get over this, it’s just reaction.” Fitzsimmons frowned. “And when she does, she’ll be madder than hell.”

  “Maybe.” Gage smiled thinly. “Take care of her.”

  He walked away then past Marco Byrne’s body, his fingers touching his neck chain. The horseshoe nail wasn’t icy anymore, just cold and wet like the rest of him.

  Chapter 36

  On a Saturday afternoon five weeks after Ganymede had been flown home from Mexico, Doc and Rachel were married at Roundtree.

  Tan, four pounds slimmer, and two days home from Hawaii, where she’d spent three weeks on Maui in the beachfront condo Doc had bought as a tax shelter, Eslin rode out to the Stables with him in the BMW. The mauve silk dress she wore accented her suntan and the reddish highlights in her hair.

  “Are you nervous?” he asked, as he turned the car through the open, unguarded front gates.

  “I’m not supposed to be,” Eslin replied. “You are.”

  “I am, but I thought you might be too.”

  “Why?” she asked. “Because I haven’t seen or talked to Gage since you shanghaied me out of Oaxaca?”

  “I told you that was Gage’s idea. You were in shock, almost hysterical.”

  “I remember—vaguely.” Eslin raised an eyebrow at him. “But it was your idea that I take a leave of absence and go to Hawaii. Do you by any chance know something I don’t know?”

  “Give the man a break.” Doc shifted uncomfortably behind the wheel. “Neither he nor Ethan have had five minutes to call their own in the last month. When they aren’t being deluged by reporters they’re inundated by breeders frantic to get their mares out here for next breeding season.”

  “You told me that too,” Eslin said, looking over her shoulder at the spring-budded trees sliding past the right side window. He was either lying or leaving something out. She knew it.

  “I’d tell you if I could, Eslin, but Gage made me swear I wouldn’t.”

  “When did the two of you become co-conspirators? I thought you didn’t like each other.”

  “Under the circumstances we decided it was best to bury the hatchet.”

  “I may bury it in your head,” Eslin threatened, as the BMW swept around the curve in the drive and stopped beneath the portico, “if you don’t this minute tell me—”

  “Ramón!” Doc interrupted, leaning past her to open her door. “How’s the arm?”

  “Great,” he said, grinning as he leaned into the car. As he laid his right arm on the door, the sleeve of his gray suit
rode up and revealed the graffiti-covered cast on his forearm. His hair had been cut and he wore a pink carnation in his lapel. “Hi, Eslin, how are you?”

  “Fine. How about you?”

  “Great,” he said, again, offering her his left arm. “I’m also one of the ushers.”

  “I’ll get you for this,” Eslin hissed over her shoulder, as Ramón took her hand. Doc just smiled his catbird smile as she rose out of the car.

  “Guess what?” Ramón asked excitedly, as he led her toward the house and Doc drove away to park the BMW. “I get my cast off this week, and next week I get to start riding morning workouts.”

  “That’s wonderful,” she said, trying to smile as they stepped into the house and she felt herself stiffening involuntarily. “Congratulations.”

  Except for the pots of blooming orchids set among the plants ringing the pool, the atrium looked just as it had the last time Eslin had seen it. The marble stallion gurgled, gently bobbing the lilies on the smooth green water. There were no residual stirrings in her mind, and she breathed a sigh of relief as Ramón led her across the tiled floor into the sun-room.

  The furniture and the gold rugs were gone, replaced by padded wooden folding chairs set in rows that were linked together by orchid-draped velvet ropes. Tall candlesticks stood by the fireplace, more orchids sat in pots beside them and drooped off the mantle. Neither Ethan nor Gage was present. Ramón led her to a chair on the groom’s side of the room, and returned to his post by the front door.

  The nuptials were scheduled for two o’clock; they began at four minutes after without music, when Doc and the minister entered from the study and took their places in front of the fireplace. A moment or two later, escorted by Ethan and Gage, Rachel appeared in the sun-room doorway. Eslin rose with the rest of the guests, her heart pounding, as Gage and Ethan led their mother across the room.

  Rachel looked radiant in an orchid silk suit and hat, and Ethan cut a distinguished figure in a morning coat that was identical to Doc’s. Gage wore one, too, and looked absolutely miserable in it. Miserable, and yet so handsome that Eslin wanted to cry. For once his hair wasn’t falling over his forehead, though she wished it were. She’d missed his perpetually rumpled look and his beat-up old boots almost as much as she’d missed his touch, his lovemaking. She tried not to think about that, but the sudden desire she felt for him ached inside her as she watched him kiss Rachel and hand her over to her fiancé. Her knees trembling, Eslin sat down as Doc tucked Rachel’s fingers protectively in the curve of his elbow and faced the minister. Gage stepped back to stand beside Ethan, his back to Eslin.

  He looked the same, yet different. He’d changed somehow, she wasn’t sure how, and it took her several minutes to realize that the gray had totally vanished from his aura. No, Eslin corrected herself, not totally. There were still vague traces—

  Hello, love. I’ve missed you. You look beautiful.

  Eslin nearly jumped out of her chair. She dropped her purse and winced as it clattered to the tiles. As she bent to pick it up, she remembered the clarity with which Gage had sent his thoughts to her in the canyon beside the dreaming pool. She shivered and rubbed at the raised hair on her forearms as she straightened in her chair.

  I’ve been practicing with Doc. How am I doing? Eslin wanted to tell him just fine, but couldn’t. Her eyes were swimming with tears, her thoughts a jumbled mess of joy and relief. Gage looked over his shoulder, saw her, and winked. Eslin smiled, tugged a Kleenex out of her purse, and wiped her eyes. She’d never cried at a wedding before but sniffed the rest of the way through Doc and Rachel’s as all the doubt and uncertainty that had haunted her for the last five weeks melted away.

  So that’s what he and Doc had been up to—practicing. The least they could have done was tell me, Eslin thought indignantly, I would’ve understood. Her resentment lingered until Doc kissed the bride, Rachel turned beaming toward her guests, and Gage started toward her with Ethan hot on his heels. For a second or two Eslin thought they were going to fight over her, but Ethan stepped back at the last second.

  “Age before beauty,” Gage declined with a grin. And once I’ve got you, he thought to Eslin, as Ethan swept her out of her chair and hugged her, I’m never going to let you go.

  Promise?

  Promise.

  “You look wonderful!” Ethan exclaimed, releasing her and holding her at arm’s length.

  “I feel wonderful,” Eslin told him, adding a silent now, as Gage slid up beside her and closed his hand around hers. His fingers were warm and trembled just a little. “How are you?”

  “Absolutely up to my eyeballs in work.” Ethan grinned. “And loving every minute of it.”

  “And money,” Gage added, his thumb lightly stroking Eslin’s knuckles. “And he loves that even more.”

  Two months ago, Eslin thought, Gage’s remark would’ve set them at each other’s throats. But now Ethan laughed good-naturedly and winked at her.

  “I don’t think Mother plans to throw her bouquet,” he said. “I think she plans to hand it to you on a platter.”

  His eyes slid toward Gage, and Eslin felt herself flushing.

  “Of course you have my blessing,” Ethan said, his face suddenly solemn as he laid one hand on Eslin’s shoulder and the other on Gage’s.

  “Thanks.” His brother grinned. “That’s all we’ve been waiting for.”

  Ethan laughed again, as the wedding guests began drifting toward the dining room behind the bride and groom.

  “C’mon, let’s have some punch.”

  “Later,” Gage declined. “I have something to show Eslin.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Ethan grinned wickedly, and kissed Eslin’s cheek. “I’ll save you some cake.”

  As his brother walked away, Gage turned toward her and caught both her hands in his.

  “You still love me, don’t you?”

  “You know I do.”

  “God, I’ve missed you.”

  “You didn’t have to,” Eslin replied pointedly.

  “I thought it was best for you, until the chopper took off, and then it was too late.” He grinned, the dimple in his cheek showing. “Would you like to see Gany?”

  “Yes, very much.”

  No one noticed them slipping through the sliding glass doors. The battered blue Jeep waited at the hitching post, and on the drive down to the barn, Gage shed his ascot, his cummerbund, and undid the first three buttons of his shirt. He took off his jacket and tossed it in the back once he’d parked the Jeep outside the barn, then took Eslin’s hand and led her inside. Four horses, not one, turned to look at them as the cross-planked door fell shut behind them.

  “Oh, Gage,” Eslin breathed, her eyes tearing again as she ran down the corridor to hug the old Indian’s sorrel mare.

  Though her ears went back, the mare nickered and allowed Eslin to rub her muzzle. She couldn’t see her ribs anymore and her sorrel hide was no longer rough and unkempt. In the stall next to her, the bay colt stretched his head toward her for a pat. The chestnut gelding snorted next door to the colt and Eslin laughed. The coats and eyes of all three horses gleamed with good health.

  “You old softie, you,” Eslin said, smiling over her shoulder at Gage.

  He’d rolled up his shirt-sleeved, and now tucked his hands in his trouser pockets as he shrugged and strolled down the corridor behind her.

  “I couldn’t bear to leave them behind,” he said, his hair falling over his forehead. “Without them we wouldn’t have found Gany, and he loves having them here. It was worth all the red tape and paperwork and the bloody blue fortune I paid that old Mexican bandit for them.”

  As Gage leaned against the stallion’s stall, Eslin turned to face him, and caught her breath as Ganymede swung his head over the half-door and poked Gage in the ribs with his muzzle. He was absolutely the most magnificent horse she’d ever laid eyes on, his coat so shiny it dazzled, his mane and forelock freshly brushed.

  “Ouch.” Gage winced and rubbed his side. “
Watch it, will you? My ribs are still sore.”

  He slapped playfully at the stallion’s nose, and Ganymede snorted as he threw up his head. Though she tried, Eslin couldn’t completely suppress the shiver she felt or the memory of the stallion rearing over Marco Byrne.

  “He doesn’t bite,” Gage said quietly, “and he likes women.”

  Eslin realized then that she was staring at Ganymede and flushed as she looked at Gage.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured.

  “This is what I wanted to show you.” He reached for the latch on Ganymede’s stall, and sensed rather than saw Eslin flinch. “Would you open the back doors, love? I’m going to turn them out.”

  Nodding, Eslin hurried down the corridor, loam sifting into her pumps as she pushed the heavy doors back, and then stepped well out of the way. When Gage let Ganymede loose, he stepped into the corridor, swung his head around, and snorted as Gage opened the three stalls across from his. The stallion waited patiently until the mare, the gelding, and the colt were freed, then led the way out of the barn and into the paddock beyond. He walked the length of the corridor, then broke into a trot as he cleared the barn and bugled for his entourage to follow.

  Stepping into the open doors, Eslin watched Ganymede throw up his head, raise his tail, and run the length of the white-railed fence. Sunlight gleamed on his coat and turned it a deep, burnished red, more the color of mahogany than blood, she thought. Behind him ran the old Indian’s horses. They made three complete circuits of the paddock, then Ganymede stopped, waited again, and didn’t start grazing until the mare, the gelding, and the colt had begun to nibble the grass.

  “King of the herd,” Gage said beside her.

  Eslin smiled at him and he slipped his arm around her waist.

  “Mal’s been telling me for years he’d be more content with stablemates, but I wouldn’t listen,” he said, rubbing his hand on her arm. “I was afraid I’d lose him, and it used to be that Gany was all I had.”