Fear Familiar Bundle (81 page)

"From Ridgeway? How? Even if the papers are false, it doesn't invalidate the contract with Ridgeway. He has the horse and his papers."

Patrick hesitated. "It would if Ridgeway initiated the fraud. Or if he knew about it. Catherine is willing to tell the truth. She was tricked, too."

Stephen's face opened with the first hint of hope. "That's true." His eyes shifted to Patrick's. "If it could be proven."

"We need to talk to David."

Stephen hesitated. "He's gone down, Patrick. He doesn't care to see anyone." Sorrow moved across Stephen's face. "It's heartbreaking to look at him, and the old man knows it. He doesn't want pity so he hides away where no one can see him."

"Maybe I can give him hope."

Stephen looked around the stable yard. "This place needs hope, and a lot more." He sighed, weighing both sides. "Come on, then. He's in the office. Sitting and staring out the window, more than likely. Just don't act like you're sorry for him. He'll go into a rage. And there's no guarantee about what he'll say to Ms. Nelson."

Patrick laughed. It held neither humor nor bitterness. "That's what we're left with, isn't it? Pride."

"If Colin were around, he could probably recruit." Stephen looked back over his shoulder. "I hope you can give Unc' Davey more than hope. That might just be the thing that finishes him off if it's pulled out from under him one more time."

Patrick took those words to heart as he went to the car and opened the door for Catherine. "It's touchy," he told her softly. "Let me do the talking." He looked at Familiar, curled on the back seat. "And you stay put. No shenanigans from you," he warned as he carefully closed the door.

Together they followed Stephen into the barn. The place had gone down fast. The stalls, once neatly cleaned and filled with fine animals, were empty and dirty. The barn aisle was cluttered with tools and pieces of equipment that had never been put away. Several puddles indicated there were chronic leaks in the roof, and the air itself was musty, old and forlorn.

"Good Lord, Stephen," Patrick said with disapproval.

"There's no money, Patrick. He put away the funds he got for King's Quest. He won't say where and he won't spend them."

Patrick's heart sparked. "Then he still has hope himself, the old devil. He knows he's been tricked. He's hoping to get King's Quest back."

"Maybe. He knows he's been had, that's true enough. But he hasn't a clue what to do about it."

The thought that David Trussell might be behind the theft of Limerick and the disappearance of old Mick returned to Patrick like the bitter aftertaste of bad food. It was possible. Anything was possible. But David Trussell had always been a man of honor. He might shoot Catherine if he discovered she'd cheated him, but he wouldn't steal from her. Or at least, that was how he'd once been. They were about to discover if time had changed him.

When Stephen opened the door of the barn, Patrick saw the anger ignite in David's eyes.

"Get her out of here," David said. His knuckles whitened as he gripped the desk.

"Give us a chance," Patrick said before the older trainer could say more. "I think you and Catherine Nelson have both been duped. She didn't trick you, David. You have my word on it."

Catherine felt the old man's look as if it were a physical blow. Though it cost her to do so, she straightened her back and refused to look away from him. There was plenty she wanted to say, but Patrick had asked her to hold her tongue.

The anger was slow to die in David Trussell's eyes. When it had fallen to glowing embers, he sighed. "I don't know what to believe. If it wasn't her, who was it?"

"I'm not certain. Do you have the agreement?"

"Ridgeway took it."

Patrick nodded. "I thought as much. I checked the track and there isn't one filed there."

David sat up straight. "Then it isn't valid."

"Want to make any bets that one will appear before the race date?"

David Trussell stood. He was a tall man, still lean and muscular even though he was in his late sixties. "Are you certain Ms. Nelson doesn't have all the copies?"

"I'm positive." Patrick put his hand on Catherine's shoulder, a gesture of friendship and support. By word and deed he was demonstrating his bond to her. "Catherine is no cheater. You have my word on it."

"And how can you be so certain of the family that put you out of your own farm?"

Patrick's hand tightened, restraining her. "Because there's a clause in there that doesn't allow for a scratch unless both parties agree." His voice was soft.

"Don't you think I know that, man?" David pounded the desk top. "If I'd had a chance to scratch, I would have pulled King's Quest from that cockamamy agreement and he'd still be here. I'd still have a future. That clause means nothing to her!" He glared at her.

"Four months ago, I might have agreed with you. But now…I know for certain that Catherine stands to lose far more than you by the terms of that agreement." Patrick waited until he saw the interest build and grow in the older man. "Limerick's been stolen. If he isn't there to race, and if Ridgeway won't agree to a delay, Catherine will lose him. And believe me, David, Limerick is as much to Beltene as King's Quest was to Castlerock. The heart and future."

"The stallion's gone?" David was incredulous. "How? What were you doing when they took him? This isn't possible. I thought you and that old reprobate Mick never left his side."

"It's worse than that. Mick has disappeared without a trace or word. I'd stolen Limerick myself in an effort to force Catherine to rest his bad knee. I hid him out in the bogs, very isolated. Only Mick and I knew where he was. Someone stole him from me."

Catherine couldn't help herself. Her hand moved up Patrick's back, stroking a soothing path. He was a man of great pride, and it had cost him to admit that he'd lost Limerick. And he'd done it for her. No one had ever given her so much.

David sat. "This is the damnedest tale I've heard." He motioned to Patrick, Catherine and Stephen to take a seat. "What's going on here?"

"I wish to hell I knew, but somehow I think Kent Ridgeway is behind it, or at least behind part of it. He stands to gain too much. He's got King's Quest, and if this goes off as it looks like it's going to, he'll have ownership of Limerick, too," Patrick said.

"But the horse is stolen."

"Want to bet that Limerick will suddenly reappear shortly after the race deadline?" There was anger in Patrick's voice. "I can see it now. Ridgeway at the track with your horse waiting for Limerick to show. When he doesn't, Ridgeway will make a suitable fuss and declare Catherine in default. By the terms of the racing contract, which will conveniently be found in the correct place in the office, he'll own Limerick."

"All without risking a single thing," Stephen said. "It's genius."

"And Patrick gets the blame." David was seeing his way to the heart of the issue.

The three men looked at each other, then at Catherine.

"Let's drive the snake out into the open," Stephen said.

"How?" David asked.

"This could take a bit of planning and a lot of luck, but that's why we came here. If anyone can help us, you can."

The sound of a dog barking interrupted the three men. Stephen walked to the window and craned his neck. "Fancy car. Nicely dressed gent." He waited. "Well, well, the snakes are indeed crawling. It's O'Day."

"Come to pick the carcass," David said bitterly. "Can't even wait for it to quit twitching."

Patrick and Catherine said nothing. Benjamin O'Day was a horse trader, of sorts. He specialized in foreclosure sales on horses and then resold them as hunters or breeding stock. He had no particular concern about what happened to the animals that passed through his hands, nor about the people who once owned them or now purchased them. He made no guarantees on his "products," and rumors abounded that his tactics were often less than ethical. Yet he was highly regarded by the hunt set.

There was a knock on the office door. David reached down to the side of his chair and let his fingers grip the handle of the cane. "Open the door, Stephen, and I'll give him the beating he deserves. Five years ago he'd know better than to put foot on Castlerock. Damn vulture."

"Wait." Patrick spoke softly. "O'Day makes the rounds. He could prove useful to us."

Stephen nodded at his uncle. "Let him in," David said with a bit of rancor. "I can always beat him when we're ready to throw him out."

Patrick smiled. It was as close to the old spirit as he'd seen in David Trussell. Maybe the old man wasn't buried under bitterness and disappointment. It only made Patrick more determined to help him. Beltene was gone, sold. But Castlerock could maybe be redeemed.

Ben O'Day hadn't expected to see all three men and Catherine Nelson sitting in the office. He nodded at all as he stepped into the room. His tweed coat was immaculate, his slacks pressed with a razor-sharp crease. "Well, Ms. Nelson, Patrick, I hope you haven't already beaten me out of the best of Castlerock stock."

"We're not buying," Patrick said easily. "In fact, David was asking about some of the Beltene brood mares. We're here to sell."

"I thought you sold your stud to Wicklow." O'Day looked at David for confirmation.

No one said anything.

"What's going on here?" O'Day demanded. "It's like a conspiracy. You act like you're plotting the overthrow of the government." He laughed sharply. "Has the talk of Cuchulain ridin' in the mists gotten to all of you? Dreamin' the dream is a speciality of the Shaw family, but I had no idea it had wormed into the Trussell brain. And you, Ms. Nelson, a good ways out of your heritage, I'd say."

O'Day's words were dangerously inflamatory. Patrick clenched his fists at his side, but he didn't move.

"What talk of Cuchulain?" Stephen asked. He looked at his uncle, who shrugged.

"I hear the old legend has risen from the grave and taken to ridin' the Clifden seacoast road late at night calling for a free Ireland." O'Day grinned. "The women are abuzz."

"Go on," Stephen said with a snort. "I've heard that you used some mighty crude methods of cheating folks out of their stock, but this is beyond the worst I've heard."

"I've never cheated anyone." O'Day's eyes were hard. "Ms. Nelson has no doubt enjoyed my efforts on some of her Dublin hunts. It's a hard business, boys."

"Where did you hear about Cuchulain?" Patrick asked. There wasn't a hint of emotion in his soft voice. Only the slight thickening of his brogue attested to his emotional state.

"Oh, it's all over Connemara. Folks are talking left and right. It seems the old legend put in an appearance night before last and scared the hell out of a family whose car had broken down. They were walking home and heard the thunder of hooves. Out of the mist rode the warrior. He called for a free Ireland and urged the family to take up arms and fight."

Stephen and his uncle were grinning, but Patrick's face had gone dead still. "When was this?"

"Two nights back." O'Day's face grew cagey. "Why so interested?"

"I've heard the talk. In a way it concerns me."

"With your family history, I'd say so. Since you've lost your farm, maybe revolutionary work wouldn't be such a bad idea. Of course, it would be difficult working for a legend." O'Day chuckled at his wit. "You'd have to sit out in the mist on the sea road and wait for him to ride up and give you instructions." He laughed out loud. "I can see it now. 'Gather all the sea horses and leprechauns and arm yourselves. The battle approaches."'

"Your history is as twisted as your sense of humor," Patrick said easily.

"There are folks who wouldn't appreciate your talk," David added. "Irish history is a very real thing to them."

"Those who live in the past, die in the past. It's the future that bears consideration. And that's what I'm here about. Now what horses would you like to see go to good homes?"

"David has promised me first choice on his stock, if he decides to sell any," Patrick said. "I'll give you a call once we've made a determination."

"I came with money in my pocket." O'Day stood. "By the way, Patrick, I'll see you at the track Saturday. I hear half the kingdom is riding on the outcome of the race between Limerick and King's Quest. The odds makers are having a time of it, two unknowns racing. If Kent Ridgeway hadn't gone around telling the terms of the agreement, the race probably would have drawn little notice. To risk Limerick! That's a bold move on your part, Ms. Nelson."

"Catherine is something of a gambler." Patrick smiled. "In fact, I hear it's Catherine dressed up like Cuchulain who's riding the countryside. She likes a bit of adventure in her life." He grinned at her.

O'Day's face showed shock. "Now that would be a turn, wouldn't it? I did hear it was a big gray stallion. A fiery devil. That family, the Adamses, said the horse cleared a four foot stone wall from a standstill and took off across the pastures without a misstep. As you know, that's rocky terrain. A horse is likely to break a leg. But, I suppose if it's a legendary horse, the gift of the gods to Cuchulain, then it's hardly worth a worry about a few stones."

"Hardly." Patrick had to force the word through his teeth. He stood. "I have to be going, David, Stephen. I'll be in touch." He looked at O'Day. "Don't go counting which horses you want here, Benjie. Castlerock is still solid."

"Believe it or not, Shaw, I came because I didn't want to wait until the nags were starving with their ribs showing and their feet gone to ruin. I can give David a fair price now, and take the animals before they go down. I came when I could have waited."

Patrick stared at the man. "Put your money on Limerick. He'll win that race."

O'Day put his hand on Patrick's arm, holding him at the door another moment. "How come the gray hasn't been worked, Patrick? There's talk that he's injured."

"He had a sore knee two weeks ago, but he's fine. A bit of rest, a little work. He'll be ready to run. And though King's Quest is a very fine animal, Limerick will beat him."

"Spoken like a man who believes." O'Day removed his hand and looked back to Catherine. "You'd best get your animal to the track where he can be seen. That would quell a lot of rumors, you know."