Hayburner (A Gail McCarthy Mystery) Page 10

  I shook my head. "No. That's the point. I want the experience of breaking a horse. I want to be the first one on him. But I'm curious about one thing. Is there any reason to be in a hurry about it?"

  Blue sighed. "Well, there is and there isn't. No, you don't need to hurry, but you do get a feel for these things. I'd say your colt was ready to ride. If you put it off because you're afraid of him, well, I don't know how to say this, but the horse will know. If you just get on him and ride him like it's no big deal, it will be no big deal.

  "If you hold off and dink around and dink around, bridling him and sacking him and checking him up and tying him around and driving him, like I've seen people do, all because you're essentially afraid to get on him, the horse senses that getting on him is a big deal to you. So it becomes a big deal to him."

  "I see," I said. "They do seem to sense what we're feeling, don't they?"

  "They do," Blue agreed. He smiled at me. "How about you? Do you sense what I'm feeling?"

  I wrinkled my nose at him. "Would it involve me sitting next to you?"

  "It would," he said. Putting the crockery aside on the counter, he patted the couch next to him.

  I smiled and got up and settled myself into the curve of his body. Putting my hands on either side of his face, I pulled his mouth gently down toward mine. "Did you know I've been wanting to do this all night?" I asked him.

  "I know I wanted to," he murmured.

  Then we were quiet, kissing, touching, exploring. I stroked Blue's back; he ran his fingers through my hair and unbuttoned my blouse. Delicately, shyly, he unbuttoned his own shirt and then pressed the bare skin of his chest against mine.

  We held each other like that for a long time, nuzzling and kissing. As I fitted my mouth to his, I was aware of a subtle, elusive sweetness in the air, a scent that seemed to drift through the open windows and mingle with the smell of the sea.

  "What's the perfume I smell?" I said softly into Blue's hair. "It smells like flowers, but your roses aren't in bloom."

  "I've got a tub of jasmine and nicotiana planted outside my bedroom window," he said. "I like the way it smells when I go to bed. Maybe you might like it, too."

  I ran my fingers through the curls at the back of his neck and down his spine. I felt light-headed with desire.

  "Maybe I'll just have to see," I said.

  Blue stood up and held out his hand.

  For a second I hesitated, my mind shouting its innumerable warnings. But the rush of sweet pleasure in my body mingling with the heady sweetness in the air was too strong. It drew me toward Blue; I stood and put my hand in his. He kissed me gently and led me into the bedroom.

  Like the living room, Blue's bedroom was tiny, paneled in teak like the cabin of a boat. The double bed was covered with a Navajo blanket in sandstone red, sage green, sky blue. The windows by the bed were uncurtained and open. I could smell the scent of flowers.

  Quietly, Blue slipped my blouse off my shoulders and stroked my back with his hands. Reaching up, I put my arms around him and buried my face in his skin, in the unique, personal odor of him.

  "I want you, Gail," he said. "I'll do my best to be good to you." He bent down and I could feel his mouth moving down my neck and my breasts.

  I sighed. Every atom in my body felt as if it were rushing to meet his. "I think I'm ready," I told him, as I put my hand on his belt buckle.

  TWELVE

  I woke up Sunday morning in Blue's bed. Waking in a new lover's bed can be disconcerting or delightful. In this case, it was the latter.

  I opened my eyes to Blue's mouth on mine, and then, gently, he moved on. He kissed my body leisurely and at length. I watched him in the mirror that hung on his closet.

  We were a pretty sight, naked and intertwined in the early morning light. His long, muscled arms round my curves, his red-gold hair tangling with my dark curls. Like some ancient Greek sculpture, I thought. And then I didn't think anymore.

  An hour or so later, I woke again, this time from a satiated doze. Blue lay with his head propped on one elbow, looking down at me.

  Feeling suddenly shy, I pulled the sheet up over my body.

  "No, no," he said quietly. "You're beautiful. I was just thinking that you here in my bed is one of the most beautiful sights I've ever seen."

  I blushed. I could feel the tide of color in my cheeks.

  Blue smiled. "How about some coffee?"

  "That would be great."

  He climbed out of bed and I admired every inch of his long, lean, naked body as he moved across the room. Come what may, I thought, this is a delicious moment.

  Five minutes later, Blue was back with freshly brewed coffee in two mugs with dragons on them. Cream and sugar waited in matching containers; the whole thing was arranged on a lacquered wood tray. Blue set the little tray on the bed next to me and picked up one of the cups.

  "Good morning, Stormy," he said.

  "Good morning." I smiled at him. "It's been a good morning so far."

  "It has at that." Blue grinned back. "So what's next on the agenda?"

  "Well, much as I'd like to roll around in bed all day, I suppose I ought to go home and feed my animals."

  "All right." Blue ran one hand down my bare leg. "Can I make you breakfast first?"

  "You can." I smiled at him again, liking everything about him. I hadn't exactly thought out my decision to go to bed with him last night, but maybe it was going to turn out all right, anyway. What the hell, I told myself, as I sipped hot coffee and admired Blue's body in the morning light. I was ready to give this a try.

  Blue made me an omelet for breakfast; there was fresh-squeezed orange juice to go with it.

  "Do you always eat this well?" I asked him.

  He smiled shyly at me. "I was kind of hoping you'd stay," he said.

  I put my hand in his. "I'm glad I did," I said. "But I'd better go. My horses and my dog are waiting for me."

  "I need to go check around my greenhouse," Blue said. "Shall I be out at your place in, say, a couple of hours?"

  "That would be great," I said.

  Two hours later I was once again sitting on a bale in my barn, waiting for Blue. A good deal less impatiently than I had the day before. My whole body felt relaxed and content. I stroked Roey's head and enjoyed my tranquillity.

  "I needed that," I told the dog.

  And then Blue was driving up my driveway. He parked his truck and got out, just as he had before, but this time, when he walked to meet me, he reached for my hand, pulled me to him, and kissed me long and lingeringly on the mouth.

  "I missed you," he said.

  "In two hours," I teased.

  "I'm just like an eighteen-year-old with his first lover," Blue agreed. "I can't wait to see you."

  I laughed. "You make me feel good."

  "Are you ready to ride Dannyboy?"

  "You bet."

  Together we caught the colt and took him to the round pen, Roey trotting behind us.

  "You didn't bring Freckles?" I asked him.

  "I thought you might not want her out at your place."

  "She got along fine with Roey on the pack trip last summer. Let's give it a try next time."

  "All right, I'll bring her," Blue said.

  I led Danny into the round pen and turned him loose. Once again he broke into a frisky little trot and coasted around me for a lap or two, then slowed to a walk. After a minute he stopped and looked at me.

  Raising my hand, I met his eyes. Instantly, he walked to meet me. I rubbed his dark red forehead and straightened the black forelock.

  "What now?" I asked Blue.

  "I'd go through everything you did yesterday, but move along a little quicker if he seems to remember and accept each step. Then, we'll see."

  "Okay," I said.

  I put Danny through his paces; he seemed relaxed and confident, showing no fear of the saddle blanket or the saddle. He moved calmly with the saddle on his back and responded to my cues to trot and lope with it. Finally
I told him whoa and raised my hand.

  After our ritual head rub, I said to Blue, "So, now do I just get on him?" My heart was pounding.

  Blue regarded me. "Gail, I don't want you to feel I'm pressuring you into something you don't want to do."

  "No," I said. "I can feel that he's ready, just like you said. It's time. I am a little nervous about it, though."

  "I used to get scared, when I first started getting on colts," Blue said. "Tom told me a few things that really helped me." He looked at me inquiringly.

  "Fire away," I said. "Believe me, I'm listening."

  "First of all," Blue said, "I found it helps to acknowledge what is. If you feel fear, let yourself acknowledge and accept those feelings. Don't push them away. A lot of people find fear very uncomfortable so they try to pretend they're not feeling it. I think that just causes the fear to hide in their bodies, makes them tense.

  "So what I learned to do was to take a deep breath and then let it out real slow. I would try to feel the fear, wherever it was in my body-the tightness in my thighs, the butterflies in my stomach, whatever. I'd say to myself, I'm feeling some fear, here. That's okay. Then I'd take another deep breath and let it out and try to let go of as much tension as I could."

  "Okay," I said, taking a deep breath. "I can feel the tension in my legs."

  "That's right," Blue said. "Let it be there. Let it be okay. Then take another deep breath and let go of it as much as you can; consciously relax. And try to keep your mind on what's happening now.

  "The thing about fear is that it's mostly about something that might happen, not about something that is happening. Fear tends to center around 'what if?' So, if you keep your mind in the present, if you stay with what's happening now, fear gets less of a grip on you."

  I thought about it. "That's true," I said. "Any other advice?"

  "Talk to him the whole time."

  "All right," I said. "Here goes."

  Checking Danny's cinch to make sure it was snug enough, I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to release the tightness in my muscles. I could feel my heart pounding. It's okay, I told myself. It's okay to be scared and all that is happening now is I am putting my foot in the stirrup. Danny is standing quietly. Nothing else.

  "I'm putting my foot in the stirrup," I said out loud to the colt. "Now I'm putting my weight in the stirrup." I stood in the left stirrup and Danny looked back at me, mildly puzzled, but calm.

  "I'm swinging my leg over your back," I told him. "Now I'm sitting on your back." I reached down and stroked his neck. "I'm riding you."

  Danny bent his neck so he could reach back and sniff my boot in the stirrup. He still stood quietly.

  "What now?" I said to Blue.

  "Ask him to take a step. Use your heels to bump him and the halter rope to guide him."

  Gently, I pulled Danny's nose to the left with the lead rope and bumped my heels against his sides. He took a step, then another. I clucked to him and steered him with the rope and he walked around the ring, a little uncertainly and awkwardly, but completely docile.

  "My God," I said to Blue. "That was easy."

  "Step one," he said.

  "I know, I've got a long way to go. But I did it. We did it." I patted Danny's neck again, my heart still pounding, but with exhilaration more than fear.

  I walked the colt around for a few more minutes, then dismounted and mounted again. After I'd mounted him a half dozen times, Blue suggested I quit for the day.

  "He's done real well," he said.

  "Are many of them this easy?" I asked.

  "Lots of them are, at this stage. Some that start out like this wake up later, and give you trouble then. Every horse is different," Blue said simply.

  "I sure appreciate your helping me," I told him, as we led Danny back to the barn.

  "No problem." Blue smiled. "I want to help you, Stormy. And I'd like to stay with you. But I need to go back to the farm and check on some more baby roses. Can I call you tonight?"

  "Of course," I said, and was conscious of a feeling of disappointment that he was leaving. Another little roll in the hay sounded good to me.

  "See you soon," Blue said, and got in his truck.

  I put Danny away and walked up the hill to the house. The air was hot and dry, yesterday's cloud cover vanished as if it had never been. It was time, I thought, for fire season to be over. Time for rain.

  At the thought, I was reminded of Christy George. Turning away from my front door, I got in my truck instead. Maybe I'd take a drive to Harkins Valley.

  THIRTEEN

  Christy George's place was a mess. Firefighters and police were everywhere, and the barn was cordoned off with yellow tape. Jeri Ward and Walt Harvey stood together, talking to two men. Christy was out in the driveway with a group of about half a dozen gathered around her. Among them were Clay and Bart Bishop.

  The sight of Clay sent a little frisson of nerves down my spine. What, exactly, was I going to say to the man? Surely lowed him some kind of explanation if I wasn't going to date him anymore.

  I approached Christy and her group.

  "Hi Gail," Christy greeted me.

  "How's it going?" I asked her.

  "All right, all things considered. These kind folks are getting ready to haul the rest of my boarders off. Most of them left this morning already."

  "Oh," I said. "Where are they going?"

  "Here and there. This last lot are mostly going to Bart's place."

  "Do you have room?" I asked Bart curiously.

  "Oh yeah. We had some people leave, after the fire. I've got room. These horses will only be with us temporarily. They're going back here as soon as Christy rebuilds." He smiled at Christy as he said it.

  She gave him a weak smile in return. "It's going to take awhile," she said. She gestured at Jeri and Walt's little group. "Those insurance people have to make up their minds what and if they're going to pay me."

  "Surely they'll pay you," I said.

  "It depends on whether they think I burned my own barn down," she said glumly.

  "After two fires in a row?" I said in surprise.

  "Who knows?" she shrugged.

  "How are all the horses doing?" I asked. I could feel Clay's eyes on me as I spoke, but I kept my attention on Christy, not looking at him.

  "Some are coughing. The one with burns seems to be doing okay."

  "How about Clifford?" I asked her.

  "He's fine. Thank God." Christy smiled at me. "Thanks again, Gail."

  "No problem," I said. In the pause that followed, I finally brought myself to meet Clay's eyes.

  He smiled at me with warmth, and I felt an immediate rush of guilt. Dammit, I told myself, I've done nothing wrong. I don't owe Clay anything.

  Be that as it might, I still felt guilty. I needed to have a talk with Clay. But not now. Now I wanted to talk to Jeri. Excusing myself, I moved in Jeri's direction, intercepting her as she walked toward her car with Walt.

  "Hi, Gail." Jeri's smile was friendly.

  Walt Harvey said nothing.

  "Was this arson?" I asked her.

  "We think so."

  "Same method?"

  "We think so," she said again.

  "Did you ever check into that guy I pointed out to you?"

  She thought a minute. "Larry Rogers," she said crisply. "Middle-aged, curly hair, glasses, overweight."

  "That's him."

  "I talked to him. He lives in the Lushmeadows subdivision. He readily admitted having watched the Bishop Ranch barn burn as well. At least half the people I spoke to had the same story. Why are you so interested in him?"

  "His face, I guess. He looked almost delighted, watching the fires."

  Walt Harvey shook his head at me. "That's not so unusual. Lots of people look enthralled, staring at a big fire. There's just something about it."

  I nodded. "Know what you mean. But this guy's face was different somehow." I hesitated. "Do you think," I addressed Walt Harvey directly, "these two
fires were set by the same person?"

  He glanced at Jeri, who nodded imperceptibly.

  Walt Harvey lifted one shoulder. "Yeah," he said. "Same method. An amateur almost for sure. Pretty unlikely it would be two different people unless this one is a copycat fire. And if it is, the copycat would have to know just how the first fire was started."

  "Are you still looking at Marty Martin?" I asked Jeri.

  "That's where we're going now," she said.

  "Well, do me a favor, just for old times' sake," I said. "Check into this Larry Rogers. My intuition just shouts at me about him."

  "All right." Jeri smiled at me. "You've been right before." And she and Walt Harvey climbed into the car. I was headed for my own truck when I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Clay.

  "Aren't you even going to say hi?" he asked.

  "Hi, Clay." I smiled, but I knew it was forced.

  "Where are you off to?"

  "Home. I've got a colt I'm breaking," I ad-libbed, not knowing why I felt I had to explain myself.

  "Oh. Would you like to go out to dinner tonight?"

  "I'm sorry. I've got plans." I hoped I had plans, anyway.

  "All right," Clay said easily. "Give me a call, then." He moved off to help Brother Bart load a horse into the stock trailer.

  Well, I thought. If I keep on sounding as inane and off-putting as I just did there, I may not have to explain anything to Clay. He'll quit pursuing me of his own accord.

  I watched Bart and Clay finish loading horses and get into their rig, then got into my own truck and started to turn around. My progress was halted by yet another vehicle pulling in. Hans Schmidt.

  Hans pulled his truck up next to mine; we both rolled down our windows.

  "Ah, the lovely Dr. McCarthy," he said.

  I could feel myself gritting my teeth. Why in hell did most women seem to find this man so charming? "Hi, Hans," I said. "What's up?"

  "I have come to check on my patients."

  "I think all the horses have been moved," I told him. "Some to the Bishop Ranch, some to other places."

  "That is too bad. I had meant to suggest that my client give her horse a vacation at Quail Run."