Fear Familiar Bundle (63 page)

"Keep your mouth shut and stand together," Jack warned him. He led the others to the office door where Catherine waited.

"Sean is upset." Timmy came up to Patrick. "He's afraid we'll all be fired."

"Sean stays upset. If the sun shines, he wants rain. If rain is soaking the earth, he wants dry weather."

"Will we all be fired?" Timmy touched Patrick's arm. "I can still get on at one of the stables in Kildare. If I'm accused of horse theft, no one will ever hire me again."

Patrick stared at Timmy. "You're the best jockey I have. It would hurt me to see you go, but I can't make predictions on the future. The mind of Catherine Nelson is a dark and twisted thing. You'll have to make your own decisions about what to do."

"Did you take Limerick?" Timmy rubbed his forehead with his fist. "If you did, bring him back. I know you're worried about his knee, but is one horse worth all of the men who work here?"

"I don't attempt to give you advice, Timmy. I'd appreciate the same consideration." Patrick's look left no room for further conversation.

I
'D SWEAR
that it was Patrick I saw leading that horse out of here last night. But it was dark, and I didn't get a clear look. The million dollar question is, who else would that horse follow around like a big dog? It's a puzzle, that's for sure.

With two resolved mysteries under my belt, I've given myself the official title of T.O. That's Trained Observer, to the uninformed. T.O.s notice the fine detail, the telling nuance. For example, everyone was so busy watching the Ice Queen and the Lone Ranger at each other's throats, no one paid any attention to that British fellow. Except me. He's about the same size as Patrick. He's a horse trainer. He was looking at the Ice Queen as if he intended to melt her bones. Hmm. Is that the reason I sense the old chap despises Patrick? Could be a simple case of jealousy. Or it could be more.

Looks like my confinement in the country is going to be more interesting than I thought.

Catherine deserves some serious contemplation, too. Now that's an easy task. For all of that frost she generates, there's something in her eyes that tells me she's not as cold as she likes to portray. Cat's eyes. I'll bet, given the right set of circumstances, that one could make the fur fly. I've always heard that no water boils so fast as that from a freezing spring.

Well, okay, maybe I did make that up, but it sounds right. Especially where Miss Catherine is concerned. If only Eleanor were here. I can see that things are going to come to a head very quickly. And it is my moral obligation to look out for Patrick, even though he isn't the best host I've ever visited. He just needs a bit of refining, I suppose. As interesting as all of this may be, it doesn't help resolve who took that big gray horse.

Speculation never made a solid case, so the T.O. must begin to gather evidence. Lucky no one around here seems to take any notice of me. Anonymity is great, except I'm ready for breakfast. I refuse to eat that horrible crispy stuff he put out for me. I can't believe my Eleanor wasn't stricter with him about my dietary needs. At any rate, the main house is across the road. I wonder if I trotted over and chatted up the cook if I might get a few luscious tidbits. I can smell the ocean from here so I know there's bound to be some tasty seafood in that kitchen. Patrick spent twenty minutes last night mixing up oats and corn and barley for that horse. And he pours a bowl of dry food for me. That man has a lot to learn about cats. Cats and women. And I do believe that Catherine and I might just be the team to clue him in.

After I solve the mystery of Limerick.

And that's after breakfast.

Oh, saunter, saunter. I haven't had to warm up a cook in quite some time. It'll be good practice for me. The kitchen is always the place to pick up the local gossip. Right at this minute I'm curious to find out how Kent Ridgeway fits into the scheme of things.

"W
HERE DID THAT CAT
come from?" Catherine's voice stopped Familiar and every stable hand within hearing.

"Patrick's keeping him for a friend." Timmy spoke up.

"Has it had all of its vaccinations?" Catherine took a step backward as the black cat turned to look at her. She could swear his green eyes went from curious to furious. One minute he'd been simply looking at her, and the minute she'd said "vaccination," he glared. His green eyes were slits of displeasure.

"I'm sure this cat is fine. He's from America. His owners are here on business and they were called away suddenly. Patrick's only keeping him a few days." Timmy was almost pleading.

"America?" The cat seemed intent on her, as if he'd excluded everyone and everything else from his attention. "He is a handsome animal." The barn lights were reflected in his sleek black coat. When no one answered her question, she snapped, "Tell Patrick to take him 'round to the clinic and be sure he's had all his shots."

"He's a special case," Timmy supplied. "A rare exception he is, to get into Ireland like he did."

"I still want to make certain that he's vaccinated. For his sake as well as— "

"Yours? Afraid he might bite you?" Patrick's voice held a clear challenge. He'd quietly followed Catherine. "I think if they let Ridgeway into Ireland they should certainly let a well-behaved cat."

"I spoke with the men who were on duty," Catherine said, ignoring his remark. "They deny hearing anything. They were all industriously working in some other area of the barn. Sean pointed out, in fact, that since you're living over the area where Limerick's stall is, that you'd be the logical one to hear any disturbance."

"That is logical." Patrick bent over and scooped Familiar into his arms. "I heard nothing."

"So you've said." Catherine forgot about the cat and approached the trainer. There was a dangerous glint in Patrick's eyes. For a split second, while he was standing in the library, she thought she'd seen something more. A flash of interest, a hint of sympathy. But that was impossible. Patrick Shaw hated her and her family. He hated everything she stood for as a successful member of one of the British families that had decided to make Ireland their home.

Intruder. Interloper. Outsider. Those were some of the prettier names she'd heard behind her back. Some of the others were far worse. True, she'd never heard Patrick utter any of those phrases. He didn't have to open his mouth. She read contempt in every line of his body whenever she asked him the simplest question or offered the tiniest suggestion. Were he not the best trainer in the British Isles, she'd find it more than a simple matter to dismiss him. That and the fact that she felt some degree of sympathy for what had happened to him through his family's decisions.

Beltene, named for beltane, the pagan spring holiday on the first day of May, had been in his family for five generations. They'd created a name and a breeding line that was limited but legendary. But they'd lost it. No one had taken it from them. Poor management and bad decisions had put them in the red. Her father had paid a fair and reasonable price for it. More than he would have had to if the banks had had their way. Instead of being grateful that his family heritage had been left intact, he resented her father— and even more so, her.

"Have you notified the police?"

Patrick's question went right by her. She was studying him, the way he held the cat so gently and glared at her so fiercely. Something in his eyes accelerated her pulse.

"Have you notified the police?" Patrick repeated. Not only was the woman insufferable, she apparently went into dazes. She was staring at him and the cat as if she'd never seen either man or feline.

"I'm sorry." She blinked her eyes. "No. I decided to wait for the post, as you suggested."

Patrick let his back relax slightly. "If you receive anything, will you let me know?"

Catherine caught the worry in his voice. For the first time she considered that he might actually be innocent. "Yes, I will."

"Thank you." Patrick walked past her without another word.

Catherine was left standing alone in the aisle, watching his lean hips. He had the perfect body for a horseman. Long, powerful legs. Muscled back. What would it be like to have a man like Patrick Shaw, to lay in his arms and welcome his kisses? The question came unbidden, and she felt again the acceleration of her pulse.

It was an idle and stupid thought. A dangerous thought. Patrick Shaw was a handsome man. She'd noticed that long ago. He was also a man of great dignity. It crossed her mind that he wasn't the kind of man who would steal so much as a biscuit, much less a racehorse. But she had to remember that he was a man capable of making a terrible enemy. If that's the route he chose.

Catherine entered the small office that Patrick used and found Kent sitting at the desk, files on each employee open before him and his hand just replacing the telephone receiver.

"I've put through a call to Dublin. Sam Prescott is one of the chief investigators there. He's a personal friend of mine. I'm sure he'll take a special interest in this case." He stood and walked over to her. He casually touched her hair. "I'm sorry, Catherine. We'll get the horse back. I promise."

Catherine tried to check her irritation, but she failed. "You shouldn't make promises you can't keep. Unless you know where the horse is, how can you promise to keep him safe? Besides, I'll call the Galway police department after lunch. There's no cause to involve Dublin in this."

"Limerick is insured for half a million pounds, Catherine. Your trainer, Mr. Shaw, has relatives who've been involved in some of the troubles in Northern Ireland." Kent went back to the desk and pulled out the appropriate paper. "I thought I'd simply expedite matters."

"Between you and Patrick you'd think I didn't have a brain in my head." Catherine took the paper from his hand. "I can read, Kent. I know about Patrick's brother. I can weigh information. And I will."

Kent leaned back in the chair. "You are rather touchy about this. I can see Shaw challenges your authority at every turn. I'm sorry, darling, I didn't mean to do the same thing. I only wanted to help."

"Oh, blast it all to hell!" Catherine dropped the piece of paper on the desk. "I'm sorry, too. I just can't believe that Limerick is gone. Disappeared. Without a trace and without a single person even hearing him go."

"Catherine," Kent's tone was amused, "surely you don't believe that Shaw and his helpers are innocent? You're not that naive. My advice to you is to dismiss every single one of them. That will break their little conspiracy of silence. Someone had to see that horse go. If you want Limerick back, alive, you're going to have to be as ruthless as they are."

Catherine's hand shook as she held the single page of cheap white paper. Letters, cut from newspapers and magazines, sloped left to right in a schoolchild's imitation of a sentence. As childish as the letter looked, its intent was deadly.

"Keep your mouth shut or horse dies. Will be in touch." That was it. Two very simple sentences that made the marrow of her bones harden with fear.

Kent's footsteps echoed on the wooden floor outside her office and she hurriedly tucked the letter into the top drawer of her desk. She was just in time as the door opened.

"Did the post arrive?" he asked.

"Yes." Catherine swallowed. Some impulse told her to keep the letter to herself. Kent was only trying to be helpful, but he pushed her too fast. She needed time to think, to weigh the advantages and disadvantages of every action. If the person holding Limerick wanted ransom, she was willing to pay. Realistically, though, there was only so far she could go. That was as far as her own personal savings stretched. Her father would never, ever agree to pay a ransom. Many people viewed him as a hard man. He'd become a successful banker because he never let his emotions rule the bottom line, and his motto was Never Yield To An Unreasonable Demand. No matter how much he valued a horse, he would never pay a ransom demand. For herself, Catherine wanted the stallion home, safe and sound. She'd pay whatever it took, if she had enough money.

"Well, was there anything in it?" Kent waved his hand in front of her eyes. "Was there a note in the mail?"

"Kent, what are we going to do about the race Saturday? We need to scratch Limerick, but we don't want to draw any attention to the fact that he's missing." She couldn't bear to lie outright to Kent. He'd agreed to stay at Beltene for another few days, just to help her out. With fifty horses in his own stables, he had more than enough on his plate. Yet he'd put aside his own responsibilities and obligations for her. She owed him honesty at least.

"We'll make sure he's scratched. There will be talk, of course, but we'll try to minimize it." Kent began to pace the office. "We'll say he has a stone bruise on his hoof. People already think you're slightly mad to allow that fool Shaw to run your horses up and down the rocks here. They'll believe he struck a stone."

"Patrick feels that the roadwork conditions a horse and at the same time allows them to settle and relax. He says that track work alone doesn't fully develop— "

"I'm well aware of Shaw's radical approach. But tell me, who produces the winners. Wicklow or Beltene?"

"That's hardly fair, Kent. Beltene never had the funds to send horses all over the world like you have. The Shaws have produced some fine animals. Leprechaun's Charm, for one. Pot o' Gold for another."

"Irish national winners. With silly names, I might add."

"They could have gone further. Patrick's father didn't believe the rest of the world mattered. The Irish Sweepstakes was his goal, and he took it with both horses."

"And squandered it on a radical son."

"That's past history. I'm worried now about Saturday."

"I'll take care of pulling Limerick from the race." He went to her and smoothed the frown from her forehead. "Just leave it to me, Cat."

He leaned down to kiss her as she looked down at the files open on the desk. His lips brushed her hair. "Thank you for all of your help, Kent. We have to keep this very quiet. If we don't box the people who have him into a corner, maybe they'll keep him safe."