Pegasus: A Novel (41 page)

Lucas and his wife, Sally, were so busy on the ranch that they were married for six
more years before they had their first baby, Nick’s first grandchild, a little boy
they named Alex, after Nick’s old friend. Lucas wrote and told Marianne, and she was
touched, and sent them
a tiny pair of riding boots as a baby present, in memory of her father, and her beloved
old friend Toby, Lucas’s older brother. Their families were inextricably woven together,
even all these years later.

Chloe was studying equine medicine at Davis by then, in order to become a vet for
the horses on her father’s ranch, and her parents were thrilled with what she was
doing.

They had sad news four years later, when Violet wrote to tell them that Marianne had
been killed in a car accident on the way to a horse show. She was only fifty-four.
It was the end of an era for Nick, and saddened him deeply. Marianne had been the
last survivor of a lost world, other than Lucas, who was too young then to remember
anything except his life in the circus, once he came to the States. Marianne was part
of Nick’s extended family, through his bond to Alex, and a last link to him, and now
she was gone too. Her early death hit Nick hard, and her daughter Violet maintained
the friendship in the ensuing years. She was running her stepfather’s horse farm since
none of her siblings were interested, and Arthur had turned the farm over to her on
her mother’s death. He said he wanted to travel, and without his wife, no longer wanted
the responsibility of the farm.

Violet married a year after her mother died, to another horse breeder on a neighboring
farm, and she had a baby girl a year after that, whom she named Nicola, after Nick.
He was eighty-two by then and very touched by her gesture. He was still in good health
and very active, although Lucas took over running the ranch that year. But his father
went to all the auctions with him when they bought new horses, and Nick still had
an unfailing eye. The horses Nick purchased were superb, to maintain their bloodlines,
and Lucas had learned his father’s lessons well. Lessons Nick had learned from Alex
forty years before.

Little Alex, Lucas’s son, was six when Violet’s daughter Nicola was born. And he was
the apple of his grandfather’s eye. Nick taught him all about the Lipizzaners, and
told him stories about the circus, and the clowns who had been his father’s friends
when he had been the same age Alex was now. He loved listening to his grandfather’s
tales of Pegasus, the circus, and the clowns. He knew all about Pegasus, although
the stallion had died before Alex was born, and was buried on the ranch.

Nick and his grandson rode together every afternoon, usually just before sunset, while
Nick told him stories about the circus, his uncle Toby who died in the war, his father
as a boy, and their friend Alex in Germany, whom Alex had been named after, and the
beautiful horses he had, how well he trained them, and how brave he was in the war.
Alex was fascinated by his grandfather’s stories, and they were riding together one
day when Nick stopped talking, and seemed to be resting in his saddle, and the beautiful
Lipizzaner he was riding, one of the sons of the great Pegasus, just turned slowly
home toward the barn, and Alex’s horse followed.

“Grampa’s sleeping,” Alex told Lucas, his father, when they got back to the barn.
The little boy didn’t look worried, and Lucas glanced at his father and saw what had
happened. Nick had been busy and alive until the end, in love with his life, happy
on his ranch, and passionate about his horses. He had died just the way he would have
wanted to, riding a Lipizzaner, cantering across the fields of his ranch with his
grandson, and enjoying his life and his world as the sun set on the mountains he had
loved.

Lucas sent his son in to see his mother, and then he gently lifted his father down
from the saddle for the last time.

They buried him on a peaceful corner of the ranch, near where Pegasus was buried,
on the bluff he had visited for so many years
with Christianna. They took him to the spot on a horse-drawn carriage, pulled by two
Lipizzaners, with his favorite one, saddled and riderless behind it, as Christianna
walked beside him.

She visited him every day, and talked to him. And sometimes she rode there on one
of the Lipizzaners herself. He had given her a wonderful life, and she had never regretted
coming to the ranch with him. He had been right for both of them, and even at sixty,
she was a beautiful woman. And she had loved him to the end.

The bidding took off at a rapid clip in the auction, near Haversham Castle in Hertfordshire
in England. It was an auction that happened every year, and drew aficionados from
all over the world. The most knowledgeable people about horses, and the most serious
buyers, turned up to buy Arabians, fabulous show horses, hunters, jumpers, and whenever
possible Lipizzaners. It was the second Lipizzaner on the list, a stallion, that drew
the highest bids, and one of the locals, allegedly a family member, a Beaulieu staying
at the castle, wasn’t letting go. She moved her paddle almost imperceptibly, and kept
her eyes locked on the auctioneer’s. She had no intention of losing the fabulous stallion
to someone else. And she had stiff competition from a tall man in a cowboy hat, standing
languidly to the side. But his eyes were keen and sharp, and one of the spotters had
him in his sights, as the bidding continued to go up at a rapid pace.

“The lady in the pink shirt,” the auctioneer said again, as the spotter reported yet
another bid from the side an instant later. Eventually
everyone else dropped out, and finally with a nod and a smile, the man in the cowboy
hat gave up. And the woman in the pink shirt gave a victorious grin, and was patted
on the back by two attractive women on either side. The woman who bought the Lipizzaner
was tall and blond and looked to be in her early thirties. She gave her information
to one of the spotters, as the bidding went on for the next horse, and she left her
seat a few minutes later and went to the cashier to pay for the horse. The man in
the cowboy hat found her there and extended his hand. He was wearing well-worn cowboy
boots to go with the hat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you. He’s a gorgeous horse,” he said with a broad smile.
He had been the underbidder, and hadn’t wanted to lose. But he had sensed that the
woman who had bought the Lipizzaner wasn’t going to give up, at any price. And he
had already gone well past his limit on the last bid. He had bought two other horses
that day, fabulous Arabians that he was happy with, although the Lipizzaner was what
he had come for. The Arabians were extras he just couldn’t resist.

“Thank you,” the blond woman said pleasantly, with a slightly embarrassed smile. “I’m
sorry, I have a thing about Lipizzaners.”

“So do I,” he said easily. “Did you buy him to show?”

“No, to breed.”

“So was I. Maybe we can talk about that sometime. I’m from Pegasus Ranch in California.”
He was sure that if she knew horses, she had heard of his ranch. And he could hear
that she was American, although the women she was with were English.

“Garrison Farm, in Virginia,” she said. He knew it. “I’m staying with my cousins nearby.”
She didn’t want to say that she was staying at the castle, which belonged to her cousins.
It made her sound like a snob. He was very understated and casual in his demeanor.
And
she had been very intense during the bidding. She was a pretty woman, and she was
wearing riding boots and jodhpurs. She’d been riding that day right up till the auction.
“To be honest, I bought him for sentimental reasons. Lipizzaners are part of my family’s
history.” She felt as though she had to explain why she had been so fierce in the
bidding, but he didn’t seem to mind. He had lost to her with good grace, and looked
intrigued by what she said.

“It’s part of my family history too,” he said vaguely. There was something in her
eyes that looked familiar to him, but he didn’t know what it was, as though they had
met before.

“My great-grandfather gave his best friend two Lipizzaners in Germany before the war
and saved his life. They’ve kind of been good luck charms for us ever since.” She
smiled, and he noticed how blue her eyes were, they were the same color as his, although
he was as dark as she was fair, and he had a California tan, and lines around his
eyes from squinting in the sun. He was in his early forties and a handsome man.

“My grandfather was given two Lipizzaners by his best friend in Germany, and he joined
the circus with them, which saved his life,” the man in the cowboy hat said carefully,
as they compared stories which, strangely, were matched, like two halves of a whole.

“Oh my God,” she said, staring at him as though she’d seen a ghost. “I didn’t say
the part about the circus because that always sounds so crazy, and I’ve never been
absolutely sure the circus part was true. My mother told me about it, but she was
always a little vague about the circus, and my grandmother died before I was born,
so I couldn’t ask her.”

“If we’re talking about the same two men, the circus part was true. My grandfather
left Germany with two Lipizzaners and six Arabians in a railroad car in 1938, and
joined the circus. What’s your
name?” he asked her, looking mystified. How was it possible that two people who were
related to that story had come to England to buy the same horse? It felt like destiny
to him.

“Nicky Steele. My grandmother’s maiden name was von Hemmerle. Marianne von Hemmerle.
Her father’s name was Alex. He sent her to England to stay with friends and get out
of Germany in 1940. She married an RAF pilot—my grandfather—here during the war. He
died, and then she went to America and married again. My mother, Violet Beaulieu Steele,
is the daughter of the Englishman, so she’s half English, and I have cousins here.”

“I’m named after your great-grandfather. I’m Alex Bing. My grandfather’s name was
von Bingen. Nicolas von Bingen, he changed it to Nick Bing when he joined the circus,
and it stuck. He never changed it back after he left the circus. I guess it was easier.”

She looked equally stricken by what he said. “I think I’m named after your grandfather.
Nicola, people call me Nicky. This is so weird.” The hair was standing up on her arms.
“I wish my grandmother were still alive so I could tell her. Wait till I tell my mom.
I run their farm in Virginia.”

“My dad is still alive, Lucas Bing. He was six when they came from Germany, and joined
the circus with his brother and my grandfather. My father had an older brother, Tobias,
who died in the Pacific in ’42. My dad is eighty-two and still going strong. My grandfather
Nick passed on when I was six, thirty-seven years ago. I was riding with him when
he died on our ranch. He just went to sleep while we were talking. All our bloodlines
at the ranch came from the original Pegasus, the stallion they brought from Germany
before the war.”

“I’ve heard about your ranch. All the names sound familiar. The part about the circus
always threw me. It sounded so weird to me, I
was never sure it was true,” she said, looking slightly embarrassed, and he laughed.

“It always sounded strange to me too. But kind of fun. My grandfather’s stories were
fantastic. He married a high-wire artist from the circus. She died last year at ninety-six.
She was terrific, Polish, and a beautiful woman. Would you like to talk about this
over a drink?” His eyes searched hers, looking for something more, as though she were
a ghost from the past.

“I’d love it.” She smiled at him. “Do you want to come to the house after the auction?
Brace yourself, though, ‘the house’ is the size of Buckingham Palace, although it’s
falling apart. But it’s an amazing place. It’s where my grandmother lived during the
war, and where my mother was born. My grandfather had just died flying a bombing mission
the day before.” Their crossed paths were rife with history and sounded like a movie.

They both felt as though they were in a time warp. Alex showed up at Haversham two
hours later, and had tea and eventually a scotch with her cousins, who told Nicky
later that they thought he was incredibly good looking, and she had noticed it too.
It was hard not to. He was striking and at the same time very low key. She had mentioned
to her cousins that they were linked by history and two Lipizzaners, and gave them
a quick rundown on the story before he arrived. They thought it was fascinating, and
that he was even more so. He looked like a genuine cowboy to them.

“Fate, my dear,” her cousin Fernanda said. And her raised eyebrows nearly flew over
her head, and she shot Nicky a meaningful look, when Alex said he was divorced, and
had no kids. Nicky was thirty-seven and never married, she had been too busy raising
horses. He was roughly six years older than she was, from what he said, although Nicky
didn’t really care. She loved their story.

The three women and Alex had a nice time together, and eventually Alex said he was
meeting friends from the auction at his hotel and had to go.

“Enjoy your Lipizzaner,” he said to Nicky with a warm smile as he left. “You won him
fair and square. Stay in touch.” He was anxious to tell his father about the meeting.
He was going back to California in the morning with the two horses he’d bought. And
Nicky was flying back to Virginia with the Lipizzaner two days later. Alex reminded
her of the name of his ranch before he left. And she repeated the name of her horse
farm in Virginia. Neither would be hard to find on the Internet.

“Let’s Google him,” her cousin said, giggling, after he left. They felt like schoolgirls,
and were impressed by the size of the ranch, and there was a nice picture of him,
and one of his father, an older but still very attractive man. They were a good-looking
family. And there was one of Nick Bing, the late founder of the ranch. And of Pegasus,
the stallion for whom the ranch had been named.

“I think you ought to call him sometime, or drop in for a visit,” her other cousin
suggested after another scotch.