Forged (Gail McCarthy Mystery)

by Laura Crum

  I heard a yell, saw the person lurch away, and drummed my heels into Leo's sides, urging him toward the open stall doorway. He lunged for the gap just as the stall seemed to explode with sound.

  Gunshot. I crouched low over Leo's neck, tucked my knees and feet into his sides and hung on for all I was worth as he crashed through the doorway.

  Then we were charging down the barn aisle, as another shot rang out behind us. Leo panicked; he was running headlong, out of control, my tugs on the leadrope had no effect. I wrapped both hands in his mane and clung like a burr with feet and knees and thighs.

  I had no idea where Leo was taking me as we sailed out of the barn and into the night, but it didn't really matter. Anywhere was better than here.

  TWENTY-FOUR

  The moon was up, hard and almost full and white; I could see shapes in its light as we crashed across the stable yard in a flurry of pounding hooves. Like the creature of habit that a horse is, Leo appeared to be making straight for a little riding ring that I could see ahead of us-no doubt the place he was exercised every day.

  Good. I could probably regain control of him there. I encouraged his tendency with my hands on the leadrope and we galloped through the open gate of the arena.

  Once inside, I worked at pulling Leo's head around to the left, tugging on the leadrope with one hand while I clung to his mane with the other. I gave eternal thanks that he had a flat back and smooth gaits; were it not for that, I was certain I'd be lying on the ground.

  "Come on, Leo," I said out loud.

  The horse yielded to my tugs, circling to a stop in the center of the ring. I took a deep breath and looked back the way we'd come.

  Oh, shit.

  A figure stood at the gate to the arena, silhouetted in the moonlight. I could see the pistol, not pointed at me, not yet, but there in the right hand. And I could hear the voice, a little out of breath, but sounding quite calm and in charge.

  "You can stop running now, Gail. There isn't anywhere to go."

  I glanced wildly around, but could see no other open gates. Taking another breath, I tried to steady myself.

  "So," I said, "you're alive, Barbara."

  "Surely you knew that by now."

  "I just figured it out five minutes ago, when you stuck your head in that stall with every intention of shooting me."

  "Well, you are slow." Barbara laughed. "I was sure you'd recognize old Paint. When Sandy told me who was in the barn, I knew it was time to take care of you."

  "I did recognize your horse," I admitted. "But I'm afraid I thought that Sandy must have killed you."

  "Sandy didn't kill anyone." I could hear Barbara's smile, though I couldn't see it. "I did."

  "You killed Dominic?" I was honestly shocked. Leo shifted restlessly, and I reached down to touch his neck with my free hand.

  "That's right, I killed the bastard."

  "But ..." I still couldn't quite take it in, "You seemed so devastated. I believed you."

  "Gail, you're not as smart as I thought you were. I loved Dominic. I miss him like my right arm. But I'd rather he was dead than living with that blond bitch."

  "Tracy?"

  "That's right. Dear little Tracy."

  "You killed Tracy, too," I said slowly.

  "Right again. Why should she go on having a happy life after she ruined mine?"

  I touched Leo's neck with my hand, feeling the warm, soft hair. It was grounding, a steady island in the rising tide of disillusionment swelling over me. Alone in the moonlit arena, facing the prospect of my own imminent demise, I acknowledged the truth. Barbara had loved Dominic-enough to kill him. Enough to kill the woman he had chosen over her. It might not be a kind of love I understood, but history books and classical tragedies were full of its like.

  "So Dominic told you he was leaving you for Tracy on Friday, the same day Tracy told Sam."

  "Did she?" Barbara sounded quite indifferent. "They must have had a little agreement." Her voice rose suddenly, a strident squawk. "For all the good it did them. That bastard Dominic just told me flat he was leaving me for her. No ifs, ands, or buts. I begged, I pleaded, I cried; he acted like he didn't give a flying fuck. Then I told him I'd stop him, whatever it took. He laughed." Barbara paused for breath. "He isn't laughing now," she said flatly.

  "Why me?" I asked her. "Why did you kill him at my place? Why drag me into it? I had nothing to do with Dominic."

  Barbara snorted. "You're such a goody two-shoes, Gail. Dominic used to talk about you all the time, every time he'd shoe your horse. How pretty you were, how smart you were, how much he'd like to go out with you. I hated it."

  "Barbara," I said, I hoped calmly, "Dominic flirted with everyone. You must have known that."

  "Of course I knew that. But you were just so perfect. A horse vet and all. You make me sick. When I decided to kill Dominic, I checked his schedule. As soon as I saw your name as his last call of the day, I knew that's where I would do it. I even passed you on the road as I was leaving; I worried you'd seen me."

  "Well, I didn't," I said honestly. "Did you make up all those phone calls-people asking where Dominic was?”

  "Only one of them." Barbara snorted. "Lee and Sam did call, just as described."

  "And you, instead of riding in Lorene Roberts, you drove over to my place, took Dominic's gun out of his glove compartment, and shot him."

  "That's right. You should thank me. I made him move away from your horse first, in case I missed."

  "So, that's why Dominic lied," I said slowly. "He was protecting you."

  For the first time Barbara's voice faltered. "That was the worst thing. To know he took care of me, even after I killed him. He must have known that I loved him too much to live without him. I guess he forgave me."

  I said nothing. Leo shifted under me, and I let my eyes drift around the riding ring. "And then you killed Tracy," I said. "Did you cut the palomino horse's throat just to get me out there?"

  "Now that's clever of you, Gail," Barbara said. "That's more what I expected from you. You're right, I did cut that horse so that the blond bitch would call you out. I parked my truck behind some old horse trailers and just waited around for my opportunity. Those stupid people had no idea I was there. I nipped in a stall after Sam left for town, slashed the horse, and went back to my truck and waited some more. I shot that miserable Tracy as soon as you left; I thought you'd make an ideal suspect."

  "And did you tell Sandy to call me out right afterward?"

  "That's very good," Barbara said in an admiring tone. "I did. I wanted to keep you in the area awhile, make it look as if you would have had plenty of time to kill Tracy and hide the gun in Sam's tack room. I told Sandy to tell you Leo, there, was colicked."

  "So, what's Sandy have to do with this?"

  "Sandy and I have been friends a long time," Barbara said. "Dominic screwed her over years ago. She warned me not to get involved with him. I should have listened, but I didn't. I didn't tell her I killed him; she guessed."

  "And offered to help you out," I hazarded.

  "Right again. That fucking detective was just determined to suspect me. I thought if I disappeared for a while, he might think someone had killed me, too."

  "So you called Sam Lawrence up and talked him into coming over to your place on Thursday morning."

  "Told him I had a nice horse to sell him, real cheap. He was there an hour later. I sold him the horse and he hauled it away. I just hope to hell some of the neighbors saw him."

  "They did." I stroked Leo's neck and contemplated the far corner of the riding ring.

  "Good," Barbara said. "Hopefully that bastard Sam is arrested by now."

  "And you just took off with a saddle horse and a pack horse and rode through Lorene Roberts Park and up here to Sandy's. Nobody saw you but some guy on a mountain bike."

  "Now I am impressed." Barbara whistled. "How'd you work that out?"

  "We tracked you," I said. "I had this feeling you might have ridden into the park, though to
begin with I thought it might have been to kill yourself."

  "I thought of it. But I decided not to give up so easily. I'll stay here at Sandy's awhile. And when I reappear, I will just have taken some time to be alone and grieve. By then Sam Lawrence ought to have a trial date."

  "What about me?" I said quietly.

  "Surely you know what I plan to do about you." Barbara's voice was as quiet as my own. "Do you think I'm likely to let you steal my horse and ride on out of here?"

  "How about borrow him? Heck, I'll settle for my truck. You let me get in and drive away, and I won't say a word about anything you've told me."

  "No chance. I don't trust you."

  "It won't work to kill me. I told my boyfriend where I was going. Cops will be all over this place if I don't get home within the hour." How I wished this were true.

  Barbara sighed. "I'm betting against it. I don't think you told anyone, Gail. I think you're bluffing, and I'm going to call your bluff. This is where it ends, here and now."

  At the chill in her words, my heart accelerated. I could feel my leg muscles tighten against Leo's sides. In response, the horse danced, tossing his head.

  I calculated the distance. Barbara held a pistol; from a hundred feet away she was unlikely to be terribly accurate. At least, this was what I was betting. And she wasn't likely to expect my next move.

  I'd had plenty of time to study my options; I was ready. As Barbara raised the pistol, I pointed Leo's head toward the far comer of the ring and drummed my heels against his sides.

  The horse launched himself like a rocket off its pad. I clung to him with feet and hands, ducked low over his neck, as the shot rang out.

  I didn't know if we were hit; I had no time or space for anything but riding. Riding and urging the galloping Leo towards that low spot in the fence. I could see that the top rail was broken. The remaining two rails were only three feet high. Any horse can jump three feet.

  Can, but won't, maybe. I didn't care. If Leo wouldn't jump this fence, I was going to drive him right through it. It looked as though some horse had broken the top rail; we could break the bottom two.

  Another shot rang out, and another. Barbara could see my intent now. But the shots worked in my favor. I could feel Leo hesitate as he approached the fence, but the loud explosions behind him catapulted him forward. He accelerated, gathered himself; I knew he would jump. I had no idea if I could stay on. I had never tried to jump a horse bareback in my life. Now, now, now. I urged with hands and feet; I gripped Leo's mane and put my weight forward, over his shoulders and neck.

  Leo jumped. A huge jump-he cleared what was left of the fence cleanly, as yet another shot crashed out behind us. He stumbled on landing, and I thought I was gone, but somehow I managed to stay on, clinging like a burr through sheer willpower.

  Even as the horse picked himself up, he charged, completely out of my control. He clattered across the road behind the arena-Summit Road, I realized-and took off down a trail that twisted between redwood trees. He seemed sure of himself, as if he knew the way. Since I couldn't stop him anyway, I devoted all my attention to staying on.

  Branches whipped my face; stripes of moonlight and shadow barred the trail in black and white. I tried to stay balanced and in the middle of Leo, tried to keep my head down just above his neck.

  In a minute, I knew where we were going. This trail ran alongside Summit Road. Not too far from here it would strike an old logging road that I was familiar with. Leo was probably taking the route that Sandy used when she went out for a trail ride. Leo was taking me right into the heart of Lorene Roberts Park.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  There was little I could do about it. Barbara and her gun were behind me; I could hardly turn around and go back. Having revealed herself so completely, Barbara desperately needed to kill me. I hung on to Leo as well as I could and rode on.

  Trees surrounded me; brush formed a wall on both sides of the trail. Moonlight shafted through gaps, but I could see little. All my energy went into clinging to Leo's back and avoiding the branches that swiped at me.

  To my great relief, I could feel the horse beginning to tire. His gait shifted from a headlong run to a more manageable gallop; I could feel his heart thumping. My jeans were growing damp from his sweat. I gave a few tentative tugs on the leadrope, and Leo coasted to a stop in a little clearing, both of us breathing hard.

  Our trail had joined up with the logging road that I remembered. I could see the dirt road, open and silvery in the moonlight, running up the hill ahead of me. If I followed it long enough, I knew, I would eventually reach the bridge where Blue and I had run into Mountain Dave. And on beyond that lay the cutoff trail to Rider Road and the other side of the park. If I had to, I could ride home.

  This was not an idea I was enamored of. Nonetheless, I liked it a lot better than going back. Barbara was back there somewhere with her gun, and I wanted no part of that.

  I would survive, I thought, if I rode through the park. I was wearing only jeans and a denim shirt, but the mild spring night wasn't particularly chilly, and Leo's back was warm. Riding him bareback for fifteen miles would probably make me so sore I'd be in bed for a week, but anything was better than facing that gun.

  Leo shifted restlessly under me, and I reached down to pat his neck. The road awaited us, looking invitingly wide and clear compared to the trail we had just navigated. We could do it; Leo seemed fit and bold and sure-footed enough. I'd be home by morning.

  Taking a deep breath of resolution, I started to urge the horse forward. His body froze, his head came up, and he looked back the way we'd come. He nickered.

  I looked where he was looking, and my heart shifted back into high gear with a lurch. A horse, galloping down the trail in our wake. A black-and-white paint with a rider. Barbara.

  Once again I thumped my heels hard into Leo's sides and he leaped forward. Up the road, up the hill, into the park. I had no useful ideas, no plans; I just ran for my life.

  One glance had told me that Barbara was riding her paint horse bareback, just as I was riding Leo. Moonlight glinted on the chunk of metal in her hand. Barbara was desperate to catch me and kill me; it was her only chance at survival.

  The logging road was relatively open, the slope not too steep. Our brief rest had given Leo a chance to catch his air; he was running gamely. Another glance over my shoulder showed that Barbara wasn't gaining.

  Sandy McQuire had said that Leo was talented and athletic; I hoped to hell that he was fast, too. It would be, I thought, impossible for Barbara to shoot me with a pistol from the back of a galloping horse at any distance at all. She would have to catch me first, and that, I thought, I could prevent.

  Leo galloped up the road confidently enough, seeming sure of his footing. I imagined that Sandy probably rode him this way often, and he knew the terrain. I hoped so, anyway. I prayed that the road would continue to run uphill for a good long way. I wasn't sure I'd be able to stay on Leo going downhill at a gallop.

  Even as I rode, my mind raced, taking in the significance of Barbara's pursuit. She must have run straight back to the barn when I'd jumped out of the riding ring, caught her paint horse, climbed on him, and ridden after me. It was the action of a truly desperate woman, a woman, I realized a split second later, who had nothing left to lose. Barbara would pursue me until either she or I was dead.

  Assimilating this thought, I urged Leo to go faster. Redwoods were a blurry sky-scape far above me, the dirt road gray-white in the moon's cold glow. This eerie world was a nightmare; I wanted to wake up.

  Help me, please. I prayed the words, not knowing exactly who I was praying to. That which is, which animates the moonlit world. In another second, to the pounding of Leo's hooves and the grunt of his breath, the answer came.

  Barbara would have just as much difficulty riding her horse bareback as I was having. Like me, she was used to riding in a saddle. Desperation had caused her to take this chance, but it could work in my favor.

  I could fee
l my leg muscles tiring, could feel Leo tiring underneath me as well. The road rose over a little hump and started down a steep hill. Looking over my shoulder, I could see that Barbara had lost ground, and the paint horse was merely loping. Leo had outrun him.

  Tugging on the leadrope, I slowed my mount to a jog. He was happy to oblige; I could feel his breath coming in great heaving gasps.

  The road descended abruptly and steeply, switchbacking through trees. Somewhere far below, I could hear water running over rocks. Moonlight showed me a steep canyon; our road clung to one bank.

  I jogged around another blind comer and made up my mind. Now was better than later; both Leo and I were tiring fast.

  Pulling hard with the leadrope and kicking with my outside leg, I forced Leo into the lee side of a big boulder that anchored the switchback. In this spot, we would be hidden from the oncoming horse.

  My denim was innocuous; Leo was a solid dark bay. Nothing white to catch the eye. Stroking Leo's neck, I implored him to hold perfectly still.

  Fortunately, staying still sounded good to Leo. He was tired. He put his head down and sucked in air, more than ready to take a rest.

  I could hear the quick clip-chop of shod hooves approaching, the horse going at a brisk jog. I smoothed Leo's mane, talked to him silently with my mind. Hold still, hold still, don't nicker.

  Leo stayed quiet. My heart accelerated with adrenaline and fear. In another second, I could see the white patch on the paint horse's neck, shining in the moonlight, Barbara's face silhouetted over his neck. Then they were hidden by the big rock.

  One more second. I gathered myself, tightened the leadrope, squeezed with my legs. Even as the paint horse's head came around the rock, I acted.

  Slamming my legs into Leo as hard as I could, I jumped him forward, yelling at the top of my lungs, my free hand waving wildly in the air.

  I caught the barest glimpse of Barbara's shocked face as her horse leaped sideways in a startled spook. The paint slipped on the edge of the bank; I thought he would go over, but he caught himself and scrambled back up on the trail. Not Barbara.