BLINDFOLD

by Lyndon Stacey

  Mrs Morecambe frowned for a moment, then her face cleared. `Dark,' she stated decisively. `Oh, and he had a tattoo on his neck. In my day you would never have seen a policeman with a tattoo, but anything goes these days, it seems.'

  Gideon didn't wait to hear any more, and her indignant tones were cut off as the door swung to behind him.

  Outside in the yard he paused. The route back through the village to the farm was a good three miles, as opposed to maybe half a mile the other way. Even if Duke's car had got stuck at the ford, he would almost have had time to reach the farm on foot by now. The quickest option for Gideon was clearly on four legs rather than four wheels, and Blackbird's long black face was watching him with interest over one of the doors.

  He swung towards the tack room and retrieved the key from its ledge above the door. Blackbird, originally having come to the yard for schooling, had his own tack, which hung on the wall under a nameplate bearing his name. Gideon scooped up both bridle and saddle. Although he'd ridden bareback many a time in his youth, he hadn't done so for quite a while, and he had a strong suspicion that false heroics at this point would leave him sitting very unheroically in the mud somewhere between the Priory and the farm.

  He managed to tack Blackbird up in reasonably good time, ignoring the evil looks and snapping teeth' that expressed the horse's feelings at being commandeered in such hasty fashion. Before he had time to organise a more efficient protest, Gideon had him out of the stable, mounted, and cantering across the yard and down the lane.

  Resentment quickly gave way to excitement, and as Blackbird's hooves touched the grass verge of the lane he lowered his head and arched his back ominously.

  `Oh, no, you don't, you tricky bastard!' Gideon muttered through gritted teeth as he wrenched the black head up and booted him ruthlessly forward. `Go on. If you've got so much energy, you can bloody well run!'

  Blackbird bloody well ran.

  For Gideon, the exhilaration of the cold wind blowing through his hair and whipping tears to his eyes lasted about as long as it took for the ford to come into view round a bend in the track. Cursing, he sat back, wrapping his long legs round Blackbird's body and hauling at his mouth with all the strength he could muster. He might just as well not have bothered for all the effect it had.

  The stream was in spate; twenty feet or so wide where it met the road and coming well up the side of the white van caught halfway across the ford. The muddy torrent swirled and eddied

  around the black-and-white marker posts, which showed nearly three feet of water.

  To the right of the ford a narrow footbridge spanned the stream but it might as well have been a tightrope for all the hope Gideon had of slowing Blackbird enough to use it.

  It wasn't that three feet of water would have presented a problem to the horse under normal circumstances. It was just that running at full speed into a deep, fast-flowing current is enough to unbalance anybody, and horses are no exception,,as shown by the number of competitors that come unstuck at water obstacles on cross-country courses.

  With ten feet or so to go, it didn't look possible. It wasn't.

  Blackbird floundered helplessly as the water dragged at his galloping legs and although he leaped and plunged to try and maintain his balance, his momentum carried him on and down, finally collapsing some two-thirds of the way across. Gideon felt the murky water close over his head and the churning cauldron of noise as the horse scrabbled for footing alongside him was almost unbelievable. Grimly, he held on to the reins, finally feeling the pull as Blackbird regained his feet and splashed clear of the stream. Twisting to get his own feet underneath him, Gideon waded out of the flood and pulled the horse to a halt.

  Looking back, he found it hard to see how they'd avoided hitting the abandoned van on their way through. He supposed he should think himself lucky, but soaked to the skin in ice-cold dirty water, with a litre or so of the same in each boot, somehow the feeling eluded him.

  Blackbird stood, steaming and trembling, with rivulets of stream water pouring off him and one stirrup caught over the top of his saddle.

  `What a good thing I put a saddle on,' Gideon remarked, as he patted the horse and prepared to climb aboard once more. `I might have fallen offl'

  He settled back into the saddle with an audible squelch and

  gathered up reins that had become horribly slippery, but thankfully the shock of his ducking seemed to have calmed Blackbird down. With another look back at the empty van, Gideon sent him on into a canter. Impossible to be sure it was the one driven by Duke Shelley - one white van looks much like another - but he didn't like the way the evidence was piling up.

  They reached the farm drive proper, swung into it and in a matter of moments were through the gateway and trotting alongside the massive wooden granary that stood on staddle stones, end-on to the yard.

  Gideon almost missed Giles. There was a tractor parked at the far corner of the barn and as he rode past, Blackbird shied violently away from it, causing his rider instinctively to look down. There, behind the tractor and partially under the raised wooden floor, lay Giles, face down in the grass.

  `Shit!' Gideon leapt off the horse and ran over, dropping to his knees beside his friend. 'Giles?'

  There was no response, so he rolled him over with gentle hands, guiltily aware that it probably wasn't good first-aid practice to do so without first discovering the extent of his injuries. Wet hair was plastered on to a pale forehead that sported a large, rapidly purpling bruise. It looked as though he might have hit his head on the staddle stone.

  'Giles? Can you hear me? Giles!'

  His eyes were closed but, as Gideon watched, they screwed tighter shut and then partially opened.

  `Bugger!' Giles said distinctly.

  Gideon grinned briefly but there was something he urgently needed to know.

  `Can you remember what happened? Did you fall or were you pushed?'

  Giles struggled to focus on Gideon's face. `I don't know,' he said dazedly. `There was a bloke ... I'm not sure what happened.' Gideon had heard enough. He got to his feet and collected Blackbird who was happily cropping grass.

  `Look, when you feel able, get to the farmhouse and call the police,' he said, remounting. `Tell them Duke Shelley is here looking for Rachel. Tell them to get over here fast!'

  Giles tried to sit up. `Duke? Oh, shit! I'm sorry, Gideon!' `Yeah, well. You didn't know. I'll try and find the girls. I suppose Henry isn't about?' Henry Williams, the tenant manager of Home Farm, was five foot ten of pure muscle and would have been a good man to have backing him up.

  Giles shook his head and winced. `No. Out in Five Acre with Bob. The girls were going to see the donkeys. Watch yourself) I'll be with you as soon as I can.'

  To reach the donkeys' barn and paddock, Gideon had to go through the farmyard itself, round the old pigsties and then down a narrow corridor formed by the back of the milking parlour on one side and the barn itself on the other. The mass of outbuildings belonging to the farm formed a veritable labyrinth and there was still just a hope Shelley had not yet located the girls if he hadn't been very far ahead of Gideon.

  As they passed the pigsties, Blackbird gave a soft whicker and Griffin's chestnut head appeared over one of the low doors. After a moment, Cassie came into view next door.

  The girls were still about then. Gideon toyed with the idea of sticking Blackbird in one of the sties but thought better of it. He was more than capable of clambering out over a door that low, and would almost certainly create havoc with the other horses, once free.

  He was halfway down the muddy comdor when Pippa and Rachel came into sight, laughing and chattering, at the other end. He jumped to the ground and hurried forward to meet them. Pippa was quick to notice his bedraggled state.

  'Gideon! What have you been up to, for heavensakes?' she exclaimed, laughing. `Did you fall in the stream?'

  `Listen, Duke's here somewhere!' Gideon cut across her laughter. `Get the horses and get out of here! Ride over to Hen
ry in Five Acre and stay there until I call you.'

  `Oh, my God!' Shock drained the colour from Rachel's face and she clasped Pippa's arm convulsively. `Pippa!'

  `It's okay. Come on.' Pippa was briskly efficient as always. She made to move past Gideon and then stopped short, her eyes widening.

  Blackbird shifted nervously, head up and eyes rolling, and the hair on Gideon's neck stood up.

  `Very good advice,' a voice commented in approving tones from behind him. `But about five minutes too late. Ain't that a shame?'

  Gideon turned and looked back some three feet past Blackbird's flank to where Rachel's ex-husband stood grinning in a thoroughly unpleasant fashion. He was wearing jeans and an army jacket but had removed the eyebrow stud, presumably to lend credence to the tale he'd told Mrs Morecambe. In his right hand he held a throwing knife with a four-inch blade, and from his left dangled a length of heavy, rusty chain. No gun then.

  `Anyone moves and this knife ends up in the redhead!' Duke promised. `Pippa, isn't it?'

  'He can do it!' Rachel said on a rising note of panic. `Do what he says!'

  `Oh, yes, I can do it,' Duke agreed. `And don't think I won't.' `Why don't you leave Rachel alone?' Gideon asked, trying to divert Duke's attention. `Go and bother someone else.'

  `Why don't you fuck off?F

  'You told me not to move,' Gideon pointed out. `Make up your mind.'

  `Oh, funny guy, huh?' Duke said, moving closer. `Laugh a fuckin' minute! I hoped I'd settled you when I trashed your bike the other night!'

  `I bounced.'

  `You'll do more than bloody bounce when I've finished with you!'

  'Ah, you're just sore because I've laid your woman,' Gideon taunted.

  'Gideon, don't!' Rachel pleaded. `It's not true, Duncan.'

  `Shut up, you little whore! You slept with all my friends when I was away, didn't you? But you were too busy with your precious career to give me the son I wanted!'

  `That's not true!' she protested, perilously close to losing control. Pippa put a steadying hand on her arm.

  On the other side of the wall beside them, one of the donkeys, disturbed by their voices, noisily began to gather its breath in preparation for braying, and Blackbird's ears snapped forward in astonishment.

  Out of the corner of his eye Gideon could see Pippa trying to edge Rachel backwards. Duke saw it too. His knife hand lifted. `I said, stand still!' he hissed.

  The donkey completed its build-up and began to trumpet in a wonderfully raucous voice. The glory of it passed Blackbird by completely. He was horrified. It was quite possible he'd never come across a donkey before and certainly nobody had ever explained that it was a close relation. He went into a high-speed reversing manoeuvre, almost pinning Duke against the wall of the milking parlour.

  `Hey! Keep that fuckin' animal still!' Duke jumped sideways, ending up alongside the panicking horse.

  `I'm doing my best!' Gideon lied through gritted teeth. With his back momentarily to Duke he looked straight at Rachel, mouthed, `Run!' and then, hating to do it, turned and slapped Blackbird hard across the nose with his free hand.

  The startled horse whirled away from him, cannoning into Duke with his shoulder, and would have run if Gideon hadn't held determinedly on to the end of his reins. Blackbird was an advantage he was loath to relinquish.

  A humed glance over his shoulder served to reassure him that the girls hadn't wasted the opportunity he'd given them and he returned his attention to Duke.

  Blackbird had reverted to his reversing strategy, his head high and open mouth spattering gobs of grassy foam as he tried to get away from the human being who had suddenly and inexplicably turned on him.

  Behind him, scrabbling on all fours, Duke was desperately trying to get out of range of his trampling, steel-shod hooves and, as he finally made it to his feet, Gideon could see that somewhere along the line he'd lost his grip on the deadly little knife. He sent a prayer of thanks winging upward.

  Having evened the odds a little it seemed that the gods were prepared to sit back and watch the fun because Duke took one stride forward and, with a satisfied smirk, retrieved the length of rusty chain from the mud at his feet.

  At this point, Blackbird proved to be something of a doubleedged sword. With one full swing of his arm, Duke brought the chain round to strike the black horse hard across the rump. He exploded forward with a grunt of fear and pain, catching Gideon with his shoulder and spinning him into the wall of the barn as he made his escape. The reins were ripped from Gideon's grasp and clods of muddy earth rained down on him and Duke. Fleetingly he hoped that the girls had had time to get well out of Blackbird's way.

  He peeled himself painfully off the brickwork to find Duke Shelley regarding him from about half the chain's length away. The expression on his face was not encouraging. Gideon's plan to divert the man's anger from Rachel to himself had succeeded beyond his wildest expectations.

  It seemed to be no part of Duke's plan to let Gideon get his breath back. He had barely straightened up when the chain wrapped itself around his shoulders with brutal force, the end flicking up to catch him on the jaw. Instinct made him bring his arms up to try and shield his face, and by the time his brain sent an override it was too late. Although he grabbed at it, the chain was already back out of reach.

  `Too slow!' Duke jeered, beginning to swing the chain in a circular motion at his right side. `You big bastards are all the same! Slow and clumsy!' He caught his lower lip in his teeth and swung the chain faster until it hummed through the air.

  Gideon eyed it warily.

  This time when it came he was ready for it, flinging his left arm upwards to grab it close to Duke's grasp. He wasn't, however, ready for the numbing shock of it catching the bone of his elbow, with the result that, once again, the end lashed round his shoulders with wicked force and then pulled tantalisingly through his nerveless fingers and out of reach.

  Duke apparently found the whole thing highly amusing but Gideon found his own sense of humour had taken a sabbatical. His shoulders, even covered as they were with a thick jumper and his stockman's coat, felt extremely sore, and his left arm hung uselessly from the elbow, filled with pins and needles.

  Duke began to swing the chain again, an almost demonic grin on his face, and it occurred to Gideon that he was almost certainly high on something. There was a light in his eyes that had little to do with sanity, and his movements were jerky and tense. The realisation was no comfort at all.

  `Not so fuckin' cocky now, are you?' Duke observed. `What's the matter? Cat gotcha tongue?'

  Somewhere to Gideon's right, probably upset by the fracas, another of the donkeys began to trumpet, joined after a moment by a second and a third, and behind him, over the humming of the chain and his own heavy breathing, Gideon became aware of hoof beats once more. Presumably Blackbird had found no way out and was returning. The sound gave him renewed hope but Duke seemed not to have noticed, so intent was he on his own sadistic satisfaction.

  `I did karate at university,' Gideon informed his opponent, in an attempt to keep his attention.

  `Ooh, tough guy! Bruce fuckin' Lee!' he sneered. `I'm shakin'.' The chain whirled faster, lifting to cut through the air above Duke like a lasso. A swift vision of the havoc it would wreak if, as obviously intended, it wrapped itself about his head, prompted Gideon to make his move.

  `I preferred rugby,' he added conversationally, and had the satisfaction of seeing Duke's right arm falter as the apparent irrelevance of the comment threw him for just a fraction of a second.

  Gideon launched himself under the whirling length of rusty metal in a desperate, diving tackle. He caught Duke round the waist and bore him backward and down into the wet grass against the parlour wall. The chain landed with diminished force across Gideon's legs as the breath left his opponent's lungs with a rush.

  With thundering hooves and flattened ears, Blackbird swept past them, leaping high into the air to avoid their legs and showering them with mud once again
as he galloped on.

  Duke shrank back involuntarily and Gideon took advantage of the moment to locate the end of the chain and wrench it from his grasp. He flung it away and reached for a handful of Duke's combat jacket, bracing himself for violent resistance, but Shelley's attention was fixed on something over Gideon's shoulder.

  He would have resisted the urge to follow his gaze, had not a sound like a distant roll of thunder intruded on his consciousness. He had to look.

  An incredible sight met his eyes. What could best be described as a tidal wave of donkeys was approaching at breakneck speed, jostling one another for space in the narrow passageway.

  Duke used Gideon's momentary distraction to pull out of his grasp and scramble out from under him, scampering on all fours for a moment like a chimpanzee before he gained his footing. With a horrified look over his shoulder, he took to his heels.

  Gideon decided it was too late to run. He swiftly turned his back upon the approaching stampede and curled himself tightly into a foetal position close to the wall, instinctively protecting his face and stomach like a fallen jockey. There was no time for fear. The donkeys were upon him in an instant, flowing round and over him in a tide of long ears, wide eyes and tiny, stiletto hooves.

  The noise was deafening but, incredibly, all but a couple of the little hooves missed him entirely, and those that did hit him caught him only glancing blows. Gideon uncurled in time to see a crowd of furry rumps squeezing round the corner by the pigsties, and then they were gone. He wondered how far Shelley had managed to get.

  'Gideon! Are you all right?' Pippa was running towards him in the wake of the donkeys, with Rachel close on her heels, eyes huge in a white face.

  `Fine.' He climbed stiffly to his feet. `You'd better wait here, though. I don't know where Duke is.' He began to jog back towards the yard, fervently hoping that Rachel's ex didn't spring out at him. He'd had about enough of fisticuffs for one afternoon.

  Rounding the pigsties cautiously, he heard a slithering noise on the tiles above him and saw Duke drop to the ground some ten feet away.