After eating a light lunch, she wandered over to the stables, where the bustle had died down somewhat. Most of the horses were in their stalls, and grooms hurried about with manure barrows and water buckets. The efficiency of the staff impressed her as she walked through the vast buildings, pausing to pet the horses. All the animals were in beautiful condition. She stopped to watch two grooms bath a young strawberry roan in a special stall with a drain in the floor. Outside, a pretty piebald yearling with a dished face and a showy action trotted around a lunging ring, bucking occasionally. She stroked the velvet nose of a magnificent blue roan stallion, a colour so rare that it was the first she had ever seen.
Carrin spent the afternoon at the stables, admiring the horses and meeting some of the grooms. She chose a lovely skewbald mare to ride the next day and returned to the ranch house filled with a happy glow.
For the next three days, she enjoyed herself immensely with the horses and their handlers. She watched a trainer breaking in a three-year-old with gentle persuasion, begged to be allowed to lunge a yearling, and a groom on a huge black stallion escorted her when rode the skewbald mare every afternoon. Later she took a dip in the pool, enjoyed the Jacuzzi and watched movies in the viewing room. Mrs Martin catered to her every whim, making her feel lazy and spoilt.
There was only one person missing from her idyll, but she told herself that it was for the best. Her worst moments were when she allowed herself to wonder what he was doing. The thought of Mark in Janice's arms, acting out the erotic bedroom scene, made her blood boil. She tried not to think about it, keeping busy with other things. She grew fond of the skewbald mare, Misha, who was a gentle ride and well-mannered. On one of her outings, she spotted a magnificent palomino running loose across the rolling fields. The horses with which he ran did not challenge his beauty. His long, pure white mane and tail flew in the wind as he raced through the sighing grass. She turned to the groom who accompanied her, a young man named Shaun.
"Who rides the palomino, Shaun?"
"Ah, you have a good eye for horseflesh, Miss York." He grinned. "He's one of Mr Lord's special horses. Actually no one rides him much. Mr Lord only does so occasionally. Mr Lord rescued him from a dude ranch where he was starved and beaten. He's a gelding, so he just runs with the brood mares."
"Pity he's a gelding."
"Yes, that's what Mr Lord said. We have no idea of his breeding, but he is very beautiful."
Carrin watched the herd gallop away, and they stopped in the distance to gambol and graze. The palomino floated over the ground with his tail high. The more she heard about Mark Lord, the more difficult it was to imagine him as the brute Helen claimed him to be.
"Does Mr Lord rescue many horses?"
Shaun nodded. "We've got quite a few basket cases, horses so badly injured that they can never be ridden again. They'd have gone to the dog meat factory if Mr Lord hadn't taken them."
"I'd like to see them."
Shaun turned his horse and led her to another paddock, opening the gate. They rode into a paddock covered with lush grass, where a copse of shady trees grew on the banks of a stream. She spotted movement amongst the trees, and they came into sight of a small herd of horses. Carrin's throat closed, and her eyes burnt as she gazed at them. Several were quite old, judging by the grey on their heads and their swayed backs. One was a young bay with swollen, scarred knees, and a liver chestnut's back was covered in scars. A grey and a chestnut limped, each favouring a hind leg. A flea-bitten grey walked with an odd shuffling gait, his head held at an odd angle. Most were geldings; only a few of the old horses were mares.
Shaun explained, "If they're young mares, they go to stud. These are the useless ones." He pointed at the flea-bitten grey. "That one there has a slipped disk, those two have tendon troubles. The one with the scarred back is a head case; he used to be a bronco. You can't get near him. The one with the bad knees was a racehorse. He fell in the starting stalls and almost killed himself trying to get up. None of them can be ridden."
Carrin nodded, unable to speak. If not for Mark Lord, none of them would be alive, either, she thought sadly. The horses watched them curiously, and some of the older ones came over to meet their mounts. The chestnut with the scarred back snorted and laid back his ears. She reached over to pat the old horse that was sniffing noses with her skewbald.
"Why does he keep them?"
Shaun grinned. "Mr Lord's a kind man, and he loves horses. He also supports a home for old horses and several animal shelters."
Carrin sighed. There seemed no end to Mark Lord's good deeds. They returned to the stables, where she unsaddled and rubbed down the skewbald, shooing away the grooms who offered to help. Leaving Misha with a grateful pat, she walked to the ranch house, returning the greetings of various grooms along the way. As she wandered through the house, she heard voices, and took no notice until her name was mentioned. Then she paused, listening.
"You think she's the one then, Maggie?" Carrin recognised Bert's gruff tones and strong accent.
"Could be, couldn't she? I mean, why send her here? He's never done that before, and now him arriving tomorrow too," Mrs Martin replied.
"Well, I like her," Bert avowed. "I hope we're right. It's about time."
"Long past time, if you ask me, Bert."
Carrin turned away, annoyed with herself for eavesdropping. On the way to her bedroom, she pondered the conversation. She was the one what? It seemed that everyone knew what Mark had planned for her. He was arriving tomorrow? She had been here six days, so tomorrow was Friday. He should have finished shooting the scene then, but why come all the way out here for the weekend? One part of her was glad that he was coming, another part dreaded being in the proximity of his devastating charm.
After showering, she went down for dinner, which a smiling Mrs Martin served. Carrin waited for the announcement, and it came with dessert.
"Mr Lord's arriving tomorrow, Miss York."
She picked up her spoon. "Oh, how nice."
Carrin took a mouthful of the creamy pudding before she became aware of the pregnant silence at her shoulder and glanced up. Mrs Martin stared at her with a mixture of worry and confusion.
"Something wrong, Mrs Martin?"
Mrs Martin shook her head, transparently unhappy. "No, nothing."
The housekeeper left, and Carrin pondered her reaction. Mrs Martin was clearly worried about something, and she was a kindly soul. Was she worried about what Mark had planned for Carrin? It couldn't be anything that bad, surely? He had arranged for her to come to his ranch alone, something he never did. He had assured her that he would not be here, and now he was joining her unexpectedly. Something was going on, and she wished she knew what. Vowing to be on her guard, she finished her pudding and retired to read a book before she went to sleep.
Chapter Seven
The following morning, when she went to the stables, five grooms saddled older horses with cowboy saddles. The grooms wore chaps and Stetsons. Shaun was one of them, and she went over to him.
"What's happening, Shaun?"
"Cattle drive, ma'am," he drawled, grinning.
"There are cows, too?"
"Sure, in the far ranges. Mr Lord keeps a couple of hundred head. He says it's to pay the bills, but I think he just likes rounding them up."
Carrin grinned. "Can I come too?"
Shaun looked amazed. "It's hard, dirty work, and a bit dangerous too. And Mr Lord's arriving this afternoon."
"So? I want to help. I've never been on a cattle drive. Please, Shaun?"
He glanced around. "Well, it's not up to me. Bert's head groom; you'll have to ask him."
"When do you leave?"
He shrugged. "About half an hour."
"Will you saddle Misha for me?"
"Misha's not a cattle horse, Miss York."
"Then saddle me a cattle horse, please. I'm sure Bert will agree."
Shaun sighed and shot her an exasperated look. "Yeah, I bet you could persuade him."
Carrin ran back to the ranch house to search for Bert, whom she found polishing the limousine. It was an odd occupation for the head groom, but then, he was also the chauffeur. When she blurted her request, he straightened and stared at her as if she had gone stark, staring mad.
"You want to go on a cattle drive?"
"Yes."
"It's not a fun outing, Miss York, it's serious work."
Carrin frowned. Did he think she was some empty-headed bimbo? "I know, I was raised on a farm. I want to help. I promise I won't get in the way."
He shook his head. "Mr Lord's arriving this afternoon."
"So?"
"So don't you think you should be here when he arrives? After all, you are his guest."
She bristled. "Did he require my presence?"
"No, of course not, Mr Lord -"
"Well then, he sent me here to enjoy myself, and I want to drive cattle, not hang around all day waiting for him to arrive. I'll be back this evening, so I'll see him then."
Bert looked shocked, and Carrin wondered what was so terrible about her wish to drive cattle instead of meeting Mark. Surely he wouldn't want her to miss all the fun just because he was arriving?
Bert shook his head, looking confused. "I guess young people do things different, these days. All right. If your heart's set on driving cattle, then go to it."
Carrin grinned. "Thank you, Bert."
As she turned to go, he asked, "What shall I tell Mr Lord?"
"That I'm driving cattle, of course."
With an airy wave, she skipped into the house, leaving Bert to shake his head and mutter. In her room, she pulled on a pair of old faded jeans and a strong shirt, digging out a peaked cap. Her short, practical hair was no problem, and she did not bother with make-up.
Racing to the stables, she found the grooms turned cowboys mounting up, and Shaun grinned.
"Knew you'd get around Bert," he commented, then nodded at a huge grey gelding tied to the railing. "There's your mount. His name's Cloud, and he's about the most experienced cattle horse we've got. Of course, he's getting on a bit, but you're so small he won't even know you're there."
Carrin turned to Cloud, who was solid muscle, apparently, which rippled under his silken hide. He rested a hind leg, like the cowboy horses in the movies. The only problem was that he was far too tall for her to mount. Shaun saw her problem and jumped down from his massive bay. He boosted her into the western saddle and adjusted the stirrups as she settled into the chair-like saddle. The pommel rose before her, and the high back supported her, so that it seemed impossible to fall off. Despite the long drop to the ground, she felt perfectly secure aboard Cloud. Shaun finished the adjustments, gave Cloud a pat on the shoulder and nodded his approval of her apparel.
"Remember, don't grip."
Carrin raised her brows.
"That's a western saddle," Shaun explained. "You try and grip that with your knees and you'll be sorry."
Understanding, she relaxed her legs and stretched them out instead, using the stirrups as footrests. Shaun vaulted aboard his mount, and the cowboys rode out. To her surprise, Cloud made no move to follow until she side-reined him. Then he went willingly, keeping pace with the other horses. At first, Carrin enjoyed the gentle trot, and admired the passing scenery, but after a while she became aware of a certain discontent amongst the other riders. She could sense waves of impatience radiating from them. Realising that they were going slowly to accommodate her, she guided Cloud closer to Shaun.
"Listen, if you guys want to canter or gallop, do so. I'm not some useless female who's going to fall off, okay?"
Shaun glanced at her doubtfully, and she knew what was going through his mind. She was his responsibility, and Mark would have a fit if she was hurt on his ranch. Fed up with the slow pace and resentment of the other men for spoiling their fun, Carrin dug her heels into Cloud's flanks. The response shocked her. Her head whipped back as the cattle horse shot into a full gallop. Recovering, Carrin laughed and let out a whoop of delight.
The big grey hurtled over the golden grass, his mane whipping her face. The wind almost blew off her cap, and she held it on as she enjoyed the wind and the thunder of Cloud's hooves. A glance back showed that the cowboys followed her, grinning broadly now. She gave another wild whoop, and they joined in, urging their horses on until they drew level with her. Carrin was delighted. It was like being back in the Wild West, part of some outlaw gang fleeing the law. She let her imagination run riot, and spent the journey as an outlaw riding with her gang of tough gunslingers to a showdown with the law.
Her daydream changed when they came into sight of a herd of lowing cattle. Now she was part of a gang of cattle rustlers, bent on stealing the herd from a rich landowner. The cowboys reined in and studied the herd. Shaun came over to her.
"Well, that was quite a ride, Miss York."
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Shaun, call me Carrin."
He grinned. "Okay."
"I wasn't really expecting such a response. I thought you said Cloud was old."
Shaun chuckled. "He is, but he's a cattle horse." When she raised a brow, he added, "Cattle horses move fast."
"I'll keep that in mind. What do you want me to do?"
He scratched his head. "Well, I think you should ride to the side, in case of a break out, you see."
Carrin figured that the chances of a break out were probably slim to nil. "And then what do I do?"
"Sit back and enjoy the ride."
She smiled. "Okay."
The riders headed towards the herd and fanned out to start the cattle moving. They waved their hats as they whooped and whistled, and the herd began to walk, lowing in discontent. Carrin rode to the side, out of the way. She was content to amble along, watching the cattle.
All morning, the herd moved at a steady pace, pausing for water at a river before they continued towards the distant ranch. At lunchtime, they stopped and ate a packed meal. The group of cowboys consisted of two older, weather-beaten veterans, a tubby, cheerful man who smiled constantly, and a young, freckle-faced lad of about eighteen. Shaun, who was about her age, was sandy-haired and blue-eyed.
After lunch they got the herd moving again, and Carrin relaxed atop the big grey, her reins slack as he ambled along. Flies bothered the horses and cattle alike, and she was constantly waving a hand to chase them away from her face. It grew quite hot, and Cloud sweated a little. One of the cowboys played a tune on a mouth organ as he rode, adding to the relaxed air.
A bullock exploded from the herd with incredible speed, and galloped almost directly across her path. Carrin was jerked from her lethargy as Cloud responded. She did not touch the reins or use her heels, but the cattle horse knew exactly what to do. Carrin grabbed the pommel as he leapt into a gallop after the bullock, moving beyond it. With consummate ease, he shouldered the animal back towards the herd. The bullock was determined, however, and stopped and swung, slipping behind the cattle horse.
Carrin hung on as Cloud propped and spun after the bullock in an instant. He tried to head off the beast again, but the bullock dodged. The cattle horse outwitted it at every turn, until they stood face to face. The bullock tried to dodge past, and Cloud swung, blocking it. It tried to go the other way, and again Cloud cut it off. Carrin sat with slack reins while the cattle horse outsmarted the bullock. When the bullock had had enough, it turned and trotted back to the herd with a mournful bellow, Cloud right behind it.
When Carrin re-joined the cowboys, they grinned. She laughed and fanned herself, her heart still pounding from the exciting, unexpected ride. Shaun moved his horse closer.
"You all right?"
"Never better. I stopped a breakout!" It sounded grand, and Shaun laughed.
"Hell, give credit where credit is due, Carrin."
"Okay, okay, Cloud stopped a breakout."
"That's more like it." They laughed, and she patted Cloud. "That's why I gave you Cloud," he explained. "You don't have to tell him anything; he knows it all."
> "He certainly does, and now I know why cattle horses react so fast."
"That's it." Shaun pointed to a dark bay that one of the older men rode. "That one's a youngster, still learning the trade."
The cows seemed to be resigned to their fate, which was, Shaun told her, dipping and worming. By late afternoon, they were on the final leg of their journey, but not yet within sight of the ranch. Carrin had never spent an entire day in the saddle before, and even in the padded comfort of the western saddle, her hips ached and her tailbone twinged from time to time. She was looking forward to a shower and tea when the shout went up from one of the cowboys.
"Rider coming in!"
Carrin squinted into the setting sun, and spotted a cantering horse silhouetted against it. As it drew nearer, she was able to make out a magnificent iron-grey gelding with a black mane and tail, black stockings and a dappled coat. The rider, who sat on his mount as if part of it, cut an all too familiar figure. Mark Lord. He gave the herd a wide berth and guided his horse up to hers. Shaun saluted and rode off.
"Hello Carrin." The slight, famous smile was perhaps a little wider than usual, as if he struggled to control it.
Carrin grinned at him. "Hi."
He pushed back the white Stetson and regarded her piercingly. "I might have known you'd be driving cattle."
She laughed. "Why not? It's fun."
"Some people have other ideas about what's fun. Most girls consider sunbathing or swimming, or reading magazines fun, but not you. I come here expecting to find you in the pool, and instead you're out driving cattle."
"And having the time of my life. Bert wasn't too impressed when I asked to come. He thought I should wait to meet you. I hope you don't think I was rude."
Mark's smile widened. He appeared to be struggling not to grin, and she wanted to kick him and tell him to go ahead and laugh, knock himself out. He controlled it.
"I'd have been disappointed if I'd found you lying by the pool. We seem to enjoy the same things."
She nodded, still grinning. "I even stopped a breakout."
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