*
Normally, this would need three or four experienced people, except Armand had to do this alone, until the fire brigade arrived.
He was worried about Carly and so was Guinness, who kept whimpering or growling whenever her eyes closed. She showed all the danger signs, and he feared it was not only the diabetes, but also an injured shoulder; maybe he had to choose.
“If you’re worrying about me, Loup, don’t. Just get Torc out, then I’ll be okay.”
“It’s just, you’re more...”
“No, I’m not. Torc is here because of me. That van was after me. Anyway, I can treat myself, thanks to the gear you brought.”
There wasn’t time to debate this. Carly was already checking her levels again. Aware of her priority, Armand threw a rope hawser over the overhanging branch that he had assessed was strong enough as a hoist point. He had considered building a tripod frame, but time was against them. With the setting sun and dropping temperature, both horse and rider were vulnerable.
He attached the rope to a sling that he fastened around Torc, ensuring it was not compressing any vital organs or stressing the severest wounds. He tightened the rig, letting the branch and the winch chained to the P4 take the strain. Torc thrashed, but she was weak, and Carly was nearby reassuring her as the jacket fell from her eyes.
The branch creaked under the weight of six hundred kilograms of horse. Armand prayed he had judged all of this correctly. The green wood held and Torc was eased up and free of the stream.
With a rope attached to the harness, Armand pulled the mare towards the bank. They lowered her to the ground, dripping blood and water. She struggled to stand, and to their relief, like a foal, she found her legs.
It was then that the fire brigade and the vet arrived.
It came as no surprise when they berated Armand and Carly for risking everything in a reckless rescue.
“You could have killed the horse or even yourselves. Are you crazy?”
“No way, Loup knows exactly what he’s doing. He saved her, officer.”
Torc was checked over and treated by the vet, while the fire brigade assessed Armand’s work.
“Not bad, you show promise, but don’t do this again, please. That’s our job, we’re the professionals.”
“Of course, I won’t.”
Armand might have said the same thing once, in the past.
It was a relief when the paramedics insisted on giving Carly a thorough check-up, but Armand had to say, “She has diabetes, so as you know, there could be a greater risk of infection.”
“Good to have that info. Don’t worry, she’ll be okay.”
Having helped the vet load Torc into the horse ambulance, Armand was told they would be kept informed of her progress.
He walked up the road to the skid marks from the van’s tyres, following them for clues down to the hedge. He dialled the emergency line, asking for the police, who took the details of what he insisted was a deliberate hit and run.
“Please don’t concern yourself, sir. We’re already in contact with the fire crew that were called out. They know everything.”
“Except that Miss Tanner’s partner Gilles Boissard disappeared in Norfolk—the Wells-next-the-Sea police are investigating that accident. And what about the break-in at our stud ten days ago?”
“Thank you, sir. I’m sure this is a coincidence, but we will look into everything. Miss Tanner will need to give a statement of course. Ring again tomorrow.”
Can they do anything? Will they? Merde, if only I was in France, I could put pressure on them.
He traced Torc and Carly’s trail across the mud and grass. The setting sun still flickered off the pools of water and flecks of blood. Angrily but focused, he made a final call, to Jean-Pierre.
“Faucon, Loup. As discussed, our fears are real, and the hostiles are ruthless.”
“Vidarranj?”
“Others may be involved, but they have made their last mistake. Someone tried to kill Vix. We need to stop them, and on our terms.”
“Understood. I’ll contact the other Zoos and see who can volunteer. For us, they’ll take time off.”
“This is for Vix, and Cygne. I’ll devise a plan, and then call in five hours. Use only the secure channels.”
FORTY-SEVEN
The ringing persisted. Carly wanted to sleep as every part of her ached, especially the shoulder, but the klaxon was now in her ears, urgent and persistent. She tried turning over and burying herself into the pillows, but the pain in her right arm stabbed into her.
Armand’s hand touched her forehead.
“You’re sweating. I checked your levels before you went to sleep. Merde, guess I tested them wrong. I should have used the pump. Sorry, chérie.”
“Don’t worry, Loup. It’s my body. It’s really screwed up now.” Her head as well, she wanted to say but noticed she was in bed. “How did I get in here?”
“I carried you. You’d fallen asleep in the jeep.”
He busied himself with the blood meter.
Realising he was embarrassed, she teased, asking, “Did you undress me?”
“I’m sorry, but you were still wet. I had to... no choice.”
She kissed him on the cheek.
“Forgiven, I understand.”
As he rolled up her nightshirt, she scrabbled for her watch. He re-inserted the tube to her pump then attached everything, so gentle, not like the macho action man he was.
“Christ. It’s five a.m. I thought it was still evening. I’ve slept for hours. Going to have to get up and...”
A firm hand held her down.
“No, you’re taking it easy. I know you didn’t have a hypo, but you were stressed and injured. I want you to have another check-up. I’m worried.”
“I’m okay. You know me, I bounce back.”
“Nobody does. You fooled the paramedics, again, but not me, I know you too well.”
Carly couldn’t help but think that it was crazy. Armand was a better friend than Gilles had ever been: more thoughtful, concerned, helpful, and he was around more. She didn’t want to argue, just listen. His voice was soothing.
“I was watching. You fought hard, but I fear you were... unconscious, briefly. That’s serious; you might have been concussed.”
“No way am I quitting the competition. I’m not getting bloody suspended. I’ve commitments and–”
“No, this has gone too far. We’re both disappearing, somewhere safer. With Dido, so you can compete her when you’re fit.”
“So, you agree that the van tried to kill me, and Torc.” She had wanted it to be a random accident, but his words had ended that illusion. “But you can protect us...”
“I will, but not here.”
She wanted to sleep, but only after some questions. “I have to ask, Loup...”
“Later. There will be time.”
“No, now. First, did the vet ring?”
“An hour ago, yes.”
He said nothing else and she feared the news.
“And?”
“He operated on Torc, and she should recover, but it will take time...” Armand hesitated before he said, “the chest wound, the cuts, the fall and getting stuck. It was a major shock to her system.”
“But we had to move her. Damn. Take time means months.”
“She will recover and you can...”
“In that damn ditch, I knew my dream was over. Roman, Mick, Lina – they’ve won.”
“No, the vet said we’d probably saved her. Torc will recover so they haven’t won. You’re both survivors.”
“For what? They’ve taken everything. Gilles, then Wanda, and Hazelmead. Without Torc the future is dead. That’s it.”
“Don’t forget Dido, the next generation. And I won’t abandon you, ever—wherever we go.”
She hugged him to draw on the strength that had emerged, and that she still saw in his eyes. His warmth was genuine, and she had to kiss him. She was grateful he had saved them both. There was
more; her body ached as it shouldn’t. She should be mourning Gilles, and yet Armand’s dedication felt stronger. His passion was evident.
But first, she had to know how he had saved them.
“Don’t pretend, Loup. That was the real you, but...who...what are you? You became a different person—determined, focused. I need to know, please, tell me?”
He stayed silent. Staring into his bloodshot eyes, Carly sensed a maelstrom spiralling inside. He wasn’t exhausted, but torturing himself, churning around thoughts that she had no right to force out. He wasn’t ready, even if she needed to know.
“Okay, let’s sleep on this, Loup. But please, when I wake...”
“I’ll tell you. I promise—after you’ve slept.”
He kissed her, on her lips. Long enough to resolve her confusion over Gilles, the man of empty gestures and false dreams.
FORTY-EIGHT
Armand had not slept. The same clothes and his unshaven face betrayed him. There was urgency in his actions, a determination to leave. Carly remembered that he had mentioned going somewhere safe, but where? First, she had to uncover his mysterious identity.
He held his face in his hands and leant on the kitchen table. He breathed deeply, took a mouthful of black coffee and then looked at Carly. “You’re right. To begin with, thank you, because, without you, it might never have happened.”
“Why? What did I do?”
She was confused. He had seemed so in control.
“You saved me in a way, but it’s a long story. I’ve tried to forget, except I can’t. Yesterday was everything I feared, everything I tried to avoid by being nobody and saying nothing.”
He had delved into the pain, focusing on it again. He was about to confess something that she feared could unhinge him, yet she had to probe to help.
“You can tell me. It’s time. I know it involves Odette Duchesne in some... oh, sorry.”
He stared at her, and she feared she had said the wrong thing and now he wouldn’t be able to confide in her.
But he nodded and said, “Yes. Odette was my wife and... we served together—”
“—in the Cadre Noir?” She suspected so much but knew so little. “Sorry, I’ll let you talk.”
“I can see why you think that. Natalie was Cadre and a lot of their friends, but not us.” He closed his eyes and the tears formed. “I enlisted in the army in ’98... aged twenty. When I joined the Chasseurs, Jean-Pierre Duchesne was my commanding officer.”
“Chasseurs? Hunters? Is that a regiment? Cavalry?”
“Chasseurs Alpins are mountain troops. Les Diables Bleus.”
She realised the depth of everyone’s misconception.
“My God, and Gilles thought you couldn’t ski. That’s so... crazy.”
“Not really. I was sick and had problems that nobody was meant to know about, except Odette Fédon.”
“She realised? Why her? And you say sick, were you wounded?”
“Odette Fédon was my cousin, but she’s another story. I need to tell this as it happened. It’s easier.”
Suppressing the questions swirling through her head, she put her hand on his and left it there.
“Sorry, Loup.”
“I didn’t know Jean-Pierre’s daughter was also a Chasseur, until a party. Valentine’s Day 2004, when we fell in love.” He choked back the tears; the memories were breaking free. “A year later we were married. We shared so much, and had great plans.”
He closed his eyes, but his lashes still glistened.
The situation was familiar. Gilles and Carly had shared dreams, but now he was gone, leaving only memories that should have sent shivers through her body. But those feelings had been eroded by his affair with Lina, leaving too little.
Armand poured more coffee for them both, then continued, “We had a staunch group of comrades, nicknamed the Zoos, but then...”
He shook his head and put his face in his hands again. Carly’s hand stroked his hair to help him continue.
“After three precious years, we were sent to Afghanistan, as part of NATO’s security force. My troop, all friends, comrades remained together, but the reality was so much worse... you can’t prepare—even though we were trained.”
“I’ve seen the news, but I can’t imagine what it’s really like. If you don’t want to say...”
“I need to finish. It was worse for your British troops and the civilian population.” He stared straight ahead. “Nine months into our tour we were on an intelligence gathering patrol in a supposedly friendly village.”
He stopped and stood up.
She couldn’t let him go on; it was too hard for him. She had to hold him. Knowing was no longer important, and she feared the inevitable. But he had to let it out after so long.
“The insurgents—guerrillas—knew the area and where to ambush us. The snow was deep but passable, which should have helped us. It was our terrain, but I made mistakes...”
Armand paced, his fists opening and closing.
“Were you in command?”
“As Capitaine, yes. I was too relaxed. Odette, as our intelligence officer, should have... been safe in the VMB—the armoured carrier. Not in the open with me...”
“From the little I hear, nowhere is safe. Indiscriminate attacks, roadside bombs...”
Armand sighed and sat down.
“Not this time. There was a ruined building I should have cleared... a sniper was hiding there... but there were no tracks, no sign of anyone.”
He grabbed her hand and clasped it.
“Then shots.” He winced, his shoulder jerking. “The sniper has targeted ones he thinks are important...” Armand closed his eyes as he said, “...me first... and then...” His eyes stayed closed, and his grip tightened, “...Odette. I'm just wounded, but she’s shot in the head... a bullet shatters her helmet. I drop beside her. Our blood covers my hands, and I can do nothing. Blood oozes across her face and onto the snow. She is dying in my arms—I’ve killed her. I keep seeing it repeated—even yesterday and even now—and I can do nothing.”
Carly remembered him on his knees clutching his shoulder, staring at the ground. Now she understood. She held him to soothe his pain, but she was unable to help. Could anyone ease his conscience and bury the memories?
“Le sang vert, c’est pour la France.”
“Green blood?”
“Red is the colour of the lips of my beloved. Never blood. Chasseurs have green blood, which Odette paid with. That was all I could say to Natalie and Jean-Pierre... when we buried her... knowing she would have lived if I had secured the area. I failed her and them, so I quit the Chasseurs. I ran away, like a coward.”
She held his head and looked into his soul.
“No, it was war. It could have been anyone. I feel Odette’s parents have forgiven you.”
“Perhaps, but it should have been me, not my precious Cygne. And the flashbacks, day and night, reminding me. I lived with the guilt and the memories. The triggers kept firing—until yesterday.”
“The accident? How?” She stared at him.
“You gave me another chance, Vix. I had to save you and Torc. It all came back by the stream, my nightmares. I couldn’t let you die too.”
She understood, from the tattoo for Cygne, swan in French, to the trauma of her death tormenting and driving him. But there was more when she stared into his eyes. Why was he in Canada? Who was the other Odette, his cousin?
“I want to love you, Loup. I feel a bond that is growing. I just need—”
“—time to mourn Gilles. I understand.”
“But you’ve always been there for me. I'm not Odette, your Cygne, and never can be, but I’ll share your pain—if you’ll let me.”
“Forever, if you’ll accept me. Never again will I fail someone—someone I now realise means so much to me. You are special.”
They held each other. Carly caressed his face as he kissed her. Even though her body and heart still ached, she didn’t want him to go, not now. They needed e
ach other.
First, they had to confront whoever tried to kill Torc and her—whoever killed Armand’s cousin.
FORTY-NINE
On an ordinary day, the morning feed was routine, but it would never be again. In six hours, the yard would feel empty as the shippers were coming mid-afternoon for Vecheech’s horses. She cursed Harfang. Was there any point to three months’ notice if she had nothing to ride, except Dido? Lina had taken everything as she had threatened.
Carly closed her eyes and turned away from the kitchen window. With her injuries, she shouldn’t hack out Wanda one last time, although the mare needed it before her journey to Canada. But she really wanted to ride Wanda. Should she let someone else get the pleasure? All hers had died with Gilles. She should forgive him for everything, and she craved to hold him in her arms again, but his mad fling with Lina had hurt too much.
Her tears betrayed her to Armand, who said, “You will always find reminders, I still do. But it’s good to cry for Gilles, whatever he did when he was alive. I should’ve cried more, perhaps.”
“Thank you. I have to move on.”
She had to let Loup guide her, to help her handle the memories as he had managed.
“I think you should read this, Vix. It’s not all bad.”
Staring out of the window was better than reading some depressing legal papers.
“I’m not interested in what his family get.”
“Roman gets nothing, Gilles’s niece gets everything else, except minor bequests, and the horses.”
“Don't tell me, the snake, Lina, has fixed that...”
She put her jacket on and walked towards the kitchen door. Armand could read the document, she told herself. If she couldn’t ride, at least she could walk.
“Wait. The will doesn’t mention Lina. You get Wanda.”
She turned wanting to believe him. “You’re not serious. That’s so untrue. Please don’t tease me, not today.” She grabbed the letter and scanned its summary of the will, feeling her heart beating and a warm tingling up her back. “And you get the Outback.”
After reading the letter again, she realised there was a second buff envelope. It contained a new horse passport with Carly Tanner as the mare’s owner. A covering note said the other updated documents, like studbook and freeze mark registration, would follow.
Spiral of Hooves Page 18
