Affair of the Heart

by Joan Wolf

  It was still light as they rode back to the ranch house, and when they pulled up in front of the barn, Jay said abruptly, “I’m going to check on Mahogany.”

  “I’ll come too,” Caroline replied quickly. “I want to talk to you for a minute.” Gerald said nothing and let her go, as Caroline had known he would.

  His impeccable manners would not permit him to intrude on what she had clearly announced to be a private conversation.

  “Well, what do you want to say to me?” Jay asked irritably as he strode toward the paddock which held Mahogany.

  “I can’t say anything if you race along like this,” she protested. He didn’t slow up, and she came down harder than usual on her weak ankle. The twinge of pain surprised a small cry out of her, and Jay stopped. He stared down at her and she said weakly, “I just jammed my ankle a little. Sorry.”

  He said something extremely profane and then, catching her by the shoulder, he pulled her against him, kissing her with a sudden violence that nearly crushed the life out of her. When his grip finally loosened she said breathlessly, “It isn’t my fault that Gerald is here, Jay. It isn’t my fault he keeps hanging around me. I’m not encouraging him.”

  “I know.” His voice was softer, but it held a strange note of bitterness. His hands were still resting on her shoulders, and she curved her arms around his waist, leaning her body against his, nestling her cheek on his shoulder. “You don’t have to do anything to encourage him,” he said over her head. “All it takes is for you to be there.”

  She closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of his shirt, his shaving lotion, his skin. She loved him so much. Should she tell him?

  “I don’t love Gerald,” she murmured in a tentative beginning.

  “But you went to bed with him.”

  Oh God. Here it was. She pulled away from him and scanned his face. It was absolutely shuttered. “I thought I loved him,” she said. “I wanted to love him. He’s a perfectly splendid man, Jay, surely you can see that. He loved me. I tried very hard to love him back, but I couldn’t.”

  He shrugged and began to walk on, more slowly this time. She walked beside him and after a minute said cautiously, “Jay?”

  “Yes, Caroline,” he replied bleakly.

  That answer, more than anything else he had said, told her that his mind was closed against her. He hadn’t called her Caroline when they were alone together for ages. When they were alone she was always Cara.

  “Oh—nothing,” she answered a little forlornly. They finished the walk to the paddock in silence.

  She thought that if she could get him into bed with her she could break through the barrier he had erected between them and become Cara again. But it was impossible. She lay awake for most of the night, aware that he was lying in the room right next to hers. She hoped he was sleeping better than she. He had to ride in a race the following day.

  * * * *

  The rail was crowded with people when Caroline arrived half an hour before the race was scheduled to begin. As she took her place in the small grandstand Owen had provided for his special guests, she turned to Joe and asked, “Where did this crowd come from?”

  He grinned hugely. “From all over the place. Word’s around that Mahogany is running and Owen finally may get beat. We’ve even got a few boys from the Double Diamond,” and he pointed toward the top of the backstretch, where Caroline did indeed see some familiar faces.

  “Your stallion is quite famous, I gather,” Gerald observed. He had just joined them, and he took the seat next to Caroline.

  “I don’t know if he’s famous or infamous, my lord,” Joe responded jovially.

  Joe and Gerald chatted pleasantly, and Caroline sat quietly, occasionally contributing a remark but for the most part silent. Please let Mahogany behave, she was silently praying.

  “Macdonald seemed concerned that your horse would rather fight than run,” Gerald was saying.

  “Well, it’s always a possibility, my lord,” Joe conceded ruefully. “He’s a range stallion, after all, and has all the instincts of his kind. But I think Jay can keep him under control.”

  “How does a range stallion differ from a regular stud?” Gerald asked curiously.

  “He has his band of mares with him all the time,” Joe explained. “A mare isn’t just brought to him to breed. She’s in his charge, winter and summer, and believe me, my lord, a good range stallion takes better care of his mares than two or three full-time cowboys could. He knows where the grass is thick and rich. He’ll keep them in sheltered canyons during storms, take them to water holes, protect them from intruders. He’s tough and he’s smart and he’ll fight any other stallion who he sees as a challenge to his rights.”

  “I see,” said Gerald thoughtfully. “And Bold Decision is a stallion.”

  “Yep. The other three are geldings, so Macdonald’s horse is the only one who could provide some trouble.”

  The race was to be a mile and a half, which meant they would start across the mile-long track from the grandstand, come by it once, and then finish right in front of Caroline’s seat. They would come onto the track through the gate at the top of the oval; as she watched, one of Owen’s hands opened the gate and stood holding it. Bold Decision, Owen’s beautiful gray, came onto the track first. After him came a sorrel, a chestnut, and a bay. The four horses began to canter up the track.

  “Where is Mahogany?” asked Caroline. The words were scarcely out of her mouth when there was an explosion near the gate and the magnificent dark stallion erupted onto the track. Caroline was too far away to see the expression on Jay’s face, but she could see that the horse had been giving him trouble. He started down the track toward Bold Decision but was held to a canter by the strong hands on his reins. He stopped, reared, and screamed a challenge at the other stallion.

  “Dear God,” Gerald muttered next to Caroline. “One can see why Macdonald was worried.”

  Jay pulled Mahogany down and made him go forward again. His long legs were virtually wrapped around the horse’s sides.

  They were to start from behind a ribbon; Owen did not possess anything so sophisticated as a starting gate. They lined up, with the three geldings between Bold Decision and Mahogany. Bold Decision was restless as well, reacting to the excitement generated by the other stallion.

  A gun went off and four horses surged forward.

  Mahogany chose that moment to rear and then buck. As he came down on four stiff legs, Jay gave him a good cut with the whip he was carrying. Mahogany shot forward, stretching out into a full run, heading after the other horses, which were already approaching the first turn.

  “Too bad, that,” Gerald said regretfully. “He’ll never catch them now.”

  “Watch,” said Caroline.

  Mahogany running was sheer magnificence. Jay was almost lost in the splendid long mane. The tail streaming out behind him made him look as if he were floating across the ground. He caught the geldings at the second turn and passed them as if they had been standing still. Then he began to close the gap between him and Bold Decision, who was fifteen lengths ahead of him.

  “He’ll never do it,” Gerald said tensely. “He can’t run all out like that for a mile and a half. He’ll run himself into the ground.”

  “He’s a mountain horse,” Caroline said proudly, “a range horse. He can do it.”

  And, indeed, the gap between the horses was closing, steadily and inexorably. The men along the rail were shouting encouragement and suddenly Caroline and Joe were on their feet. “Come on, Jay!” Caroline screamed.

  At the top of the stretch, Mahogany pulled even with the gray. There was a frightening moment as the spectators saw his ears go back and his head turn toward the other stallion. Then, for the second time, Jay hit him with the whip. He swept past Bold Decision and thundered down the stretch, three, five, ten lengths ahead as he crossed the finish line in front of the grandstand.

  “Whoopee!” Joe yelled and threw his hat in the air.

  “Way to
go, Mahogany!” Caroline shrieked.

  Gerald, in his well-bred British voice, said, “My, my, that is quite some horse.”

  Caroline sat down and began to laugh hysterically.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The men from the Double Diamond converged around Jay and Mahogany after the race, and from their euphoria one might have deduced they had just won the Kentucky Derby. Caroline caught the very end of a remark of Jim’s as she approached the group, and when she came up to them the five hands and Jay were all convulsed with imbecile laughter.

  “H-howdy, Miss Carruthers,” Jim said, wiping streaming eyes. “Wasn’t that a race?”

  Caroline grinned at them all. “It was super,” she said. “What a guy he is.” And she patted Mahogany’s wet neck.

  “Best horse in the West,” Frank Adams said proudly.

  “Absolutely,” replied Caroline, and the men beamed at her. Caroline’s status had changed ever since the afternoon she had ridden Mahogany. After that feat she had become very much persona grata with the Double Diamond ranch hands.

  “Where’s Dad?” Jay asked her. His eyes were still brilliant with mirth.

  “Right here, son,” came Joe’s deep voice in reply. He thumped his son on the back. “That was one helluva ride.”

  “It most certainly was.” The group turned at the sound of Gerald’s clipped tones. “It’s a crime to keep a horse like this hidden away,” he said directly to Jay. “He has papers, I understand. You should race him.” He shook his head and looked at Mahogany in wonder. “I have never seen a horse run like that.”

  “I’m afraid we’ve been through all this already, my lord,” Joe answered for his son.

  “I can’t keep the horse just standing here,” Jay put in impatiently.

  Jim took the reins from his boss. “I’ll walk him, Jay.”

  They all watched in silence as the magnificent dark stallion was led away, then Gerald said, “You mean you have tried to race him?”

  “No.” Jay’s voice was flat and all the laughter had left his face. “No, we haven’t tried, and no, we aren’t going to try.”

  Gerald looked astonished. “But for God’s sake, man, why not? He’d smash records, that stallion. Race him and he’ll be worth a fortune at stud.”

  “No,” said Jay again. He looked at his father. “He’s my horse and I say he’s not going to race.”

  “Whatever you decide, Jay,” Joe said comfortably. “As you say, he’s your horse.”

  Jay nodded tensely, gave a quick glance at Caroline, muttered, “I’ll go see how Jim is doing,” and left the group. After a minute’s pause, Caroline ran after him. When she caught up she didn’t say anything, but strode along at his side, her long legs almost matching his. Finally he looked down at her.

  “I suppose you think I’m crazy, too,” he demanded.

  “No.” she looked off to the mountains. “No, this is where he belongs, here in the mountains, with his mares and his freedom. It’s what makes him Mahogany and not just any other horse.”

  He stopped. “That’s what I think,” he said in a strange voice.

  She smiled up at him, a beautiful, astonishingly tender smile. “I know you do, darling. In many ways, you and Mahogany are rather alike, aren’t you?”

  “Cara,” he began, a little uncertainly, and at his use of the name her heart leaped.

  “Jay boy!” came a man’s boisterous voice. “What a race! Somebody finally beat Owen Macdonald!”

  For the remainder of the afternoon Jay was surrounded by well-wishers. Caroline didn’t mind. She knew he was only waiting to get her alone, and after dinner, when the houseparty moved into the living room, she slipped out of the house and walked along to the barn where Owen kept his wagons. It was deserted in the area, but she knew she could be seen from the house. When Jay came, she thought, they could go into the carriage house.

  There was the sound of a step behind her, and she smiled but didn’t turn her head. “Caroline,” said a masculine voice, and she jumped.

  “Gerald! What are you doing here?”

  “Following you.” He smiled at her a little ruefully. “I’ve been trying to get you alone for two days now.”

  “Oh, Gerald.” She made a helpless gesture with her hands. “We’ve already said all there is to say.”

  “We haven’t said this.” His handsome, good-humored face looked strangely drawn and tense. “We haven’t said that I love you still, that I can’t forget you. I came to the States to see you. Macdonald’s invitation was only an excuse.”

  The familiar wave of helpless guilt began to engulf Caroline. He was unhappy, and it was all her fault.

  “I’m so sorry, Gerald,” she began miserably.

  He glanced over his shoulder toward the house. “Come inside here for a minute,” he said. “I’ve got to talk to you.”

  She let him take her into the barn. She most definitely did not want Jay to see her alone with Gerald, and it was becoming painfully clear that she was going to have to hear Gerald out.

  He had quite a lot to say, and the fact that he said it in his well-bred and understated way somehow only made it worse. She had never never meant to hurt him like this. She looked up at him, her mouth tragic, and said again, “Oh, Gerald, I’m so sorry.”

  “Caroline.” He put his hands on her shoulders, and then she was in his arms and he was kissing her. She was quiet, her hands resting lightly on his upper arms. She didn’t try to push him away, but after a minute he raised his head. Out of the corner of her eye Caroline thought she saw a shadow against the door. But when she turned her head it was gone. “It’s no good, is it?” Gerald said.

  She shook her head. “No.” Her big eyes brimmed with tears.

  “Don’t cry, darling. Please don’t cry.” His voice was very gentle, which only made her feel worse.

  He was smiling a little crookedly. “There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

  She sniffled. “Yes.”

  “Your stepbrother?”

  Now she stared in astonishment. “How did you know?”

  His smile was a little painful, but it was a smile. “You never ran after me,” he said. Then, “Are you all right? Shall I take you back to the house?”

  “All right,” Caroline said in a subdued voice. She wouldn’t wait for Jay tonight, she decided. In a strange kind of way, she felt she owed Gerald that at least.

  When they reached the ranch house, Gerald considerately let her go in alone, but his thoughtfulness was to no avail. Jay wasn’t in the living room with the others. Nor did he come in before Caroline went to bed. And when she arrived downstairs for breakfast the following morning it was to learn from Joe that Jay had left an hour ago with Mahogany and the van. She wouldn’t see him again until she was back at the Double Diamond.

  * * * *

  They pulled into the ranch as it was getting dark. When Joe and Caroline came into the house they were greeted by Ellen. Jay was nowhere to be seen.

  “He’s down the bunkhouse,” Ellen said indulgently. “The boys are celebrating Mahogany’s win.” And indeed the sound of male laughter was wafting up the hill and into the kitchen.

  The laughter continued long after Caroline had gone to bed. Then it gradually ceased, but still Jay did not come to bed. Finally Caroline got up, pulled her nightgown off and a cotton dress on, and went quietly down the stairs. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen, so she went, more from instinct than from reason, toward the barn.

  “Jay?” she called softly as she entered the barn door. A light was on, so she knew he was there. He didn’t answer, and she walked down the aisle. “Jay, are you here?” she called again.

  “Yeah, I’m here.” She stopped dead and then went over to the one empty stall in the barn. It was where Marmalade had chosen to move her kittens, and they were all curled up in the corner, fast asleep. Jay was leaning against the far wall of the stall, and Caroline knew that something was very wrong. Actually, she had known since this morning, when he ha
d left without seeing her, that something was wrong. But what it was she didn’t know.

  “What are you doing here?” The controlled violence of his voice came to her like a slash across the face.

  “I—I was looking for you,” she replied.

  “Why? Couldn’t your Irish boyfriend satisfy you?”

  It took a minute for his words to register, then her eyes widened with shock and the beginnings of anger. “What do you mean, speaking to me like that?”

  “How else am I supposed to speak to a slut?”

  By now she was white as a sheet, her eyes blazing. “What are you talking about?”

  “You, sweetheart. I’m talking about you.”

  She crossed the distance between them in two strides and, reaching up, hit him across the face as hard as she could. Her palm stung and his fingers closed like steel around her wrist. He was in a deadly, white-hot rage, and, held close to him, she realized for the first time that he was not sober.

  “Never start something you’re not prepared to finish,” he said between his teeth, and before she realized what was happening he had pinned her to the barn wall with the weight of his body and his mouth was coming down on hers.

  It was aggression, pure and simple, and Caroline fought him. She could smell the scotch on his breath, and she struggled wildly, kicking at his legs, trying to get her knee up to give him an even more effective blow. She was absolutely furious.

  He felt what she was trying to do, cursed, gripped her even harder, and threw her to the ground. The hay under her was soft and she was unhurt; but winded. She tried to scramble to her feet, but he was too quick for her. He pinned her to the floor, her hands held together above her head, her body crushed by the punishing weight of his. He moved a little, and one of his legs forced hers apart. Quite suddenly her anger vanished to be replaced by sheer, primitive terror. The dim stable light showed her his face. It was hard and sharp; his blue eyes were narrow, glittering, almost black. The wildness of her resistance had released all of his civilized brakes, and rape was looking at her out of those midnight-dark eyes. Her heart was thudding so hard it hurt her head.