Read Fear Familiar Bundle Online
Authors: Caroline Burnes
Catherine jerked free of Patrick and started to turn back. His fingers closed over her arm. "Catherine."
She shook her head and refused to turn around.
He gave a soft, low whistle, then another.
There was the sound of movement, and Catherine turned back. Limerick was rising. Putting both front feet out in front of him, he lumbered up. As he came toward Patrick, he stumbled, giving to his left shoulder. A fresh trickle of blood began to ooze through the mud on his coat.
"He's not dead!"
"Not by a long shot." Patrick smiled. "I doubt he's hurt much, either, but he's a damn fine actor, isn't he?"
With a cry, Catherine ran toward the horse. He greeted her with a soft whinny, but his attention was on Patrick. He blew a soft greeting, but held steady while Catherine examined him. Her fingers moved over his shoulder, flaking away the mud. There was a clean furrow where the bullet had grazed him, cutting deep into the flesh but not striking bone or tendon.
"He looked dead." She spoke aloud, but it was as if she were talking to herself. "He really looked dead." She turned back to Patrick, still not believing what she was seeing.
"I told you Limerick and I had a few tricks. When Limerick was a foal, I amused my father by teaching the horse movie tricks. Playing dead was one of our specialties. I'm afraid my father didn't find it so amusing, though. I thought Colin was trying to kill Limerick. Just in case my brother got away from me, I wanted him to believe he'd finished the job with Limerick. I put the mud on him to clot the blood. The wound didn't look bad, but bog mud can cure many a terrible injury." As he talked, his smile grew wider. "I do believe you'll have a horse ready to race by Saturday."
"A
RE YOU CERTAIN
?" Catherine adjusted Timmy's silks, but her attention was on Patrick. "The agreement was a forgery. We could always dispute it, but we have to do it now, before the race." She put in the final pin and allowed the jockey to leave.
"Have you no faith in a horse that's been resurrected from the dead?" Patrick, his blue eyes dancing, looked over Limerick's withers at Catherine.
"To lose him now…" Catherine didn't finish the sentence.
"I make you a promise, Catherine. Kent Ridgeway will never own Limerick. Never." The dark promise behind those words didn't have to be spoken. Ridgeway was free and preparing King's Quest to run. They could find no evidence to prove beyond a doubt that he'd forged the racing agreement, or that he'd attempted to kill Limerick. He'd never fired a shot. His claim was that he'd been hunting in the mountains and had stumbled upon Patrick's party just in time to offer assistance.
Although Catherine had wanted to press harder to bring charges, Patrick had convinced her to hold still. "The race will be punishment enough," Patrick assured her. "Let him lose. It will only be the beginning of what you can do to him in the future. You can drive him out of business, and that will be worse than anything else."
Only that promise had kept her from publicly declaring what a crook and coward the man was.
Now her future hung on the fact that Limerick, his shoulder sore but healing, could outrun King's Quest. Limerick had had no preparation. His pasterns and elbows were nicked and scraped where he'd run among the stones with Colin, but there seemed to be no permanent damage. Still, with his shoulder wound, it was such a risk. And Patrick hadn't even had a chance to put him on the Kildare track. Timmy would be riding him cold, not certain how he would break out of the Kildare gate. It was a big gamble. Only Patrick's calm demeanor, his steady voice and hand as he groomed the stallion, gave her any hopes of success.
"Patrick?"
She turned to the door of the stall and saw Colin Shaw. He was wearing dark glasses and a hat, a disguise made necessary by the fact that he was still a wanted man.
"Colin." Patrick's tone was softer than any he'd ever used when speaking of his brother. All through the night they'd talked, voices rising and falling as Catherine had held Familiar and sat on a bale of hay near Limerick's door. They were guarding the horse against further mischief, but the two brothers were also working through years of enmity, unwarranted beliefs and false accusations. By dawn, they had come to terms with each other. She could hear it in the way they spoke to one another. Colin had finally made Patrick believe that his return to Ireland, risking capture, had been to see if he could help his younger brother. The past could never be undone, but Colin had been able to give Patrick an understanding of events.
To give them a moment of privacy, she turned to stroke Familiar as he perched on the saddle. He'd been in the horse van with Limerick when they'd driven straight to the track, and he'd stayed at the stall the entire time.
"After the race, I'm going back to the States," Colin said.
"This is your country, Colin. If you want to stay, I'll help you fight the charges."
Colin shook his head. "As long as you know the truth, Patrick, the rest doesn't matter. Da' spent the money because he believed I was innocent. I was. Lucy— " He turned away on a muttered curse. "If I'd known what she was up to, I would have stopped her. But I had nothing to do with that bomb, or any other. It was a setup."
"I believe you." Patrick walked to the stall door. "Be careful. Once the race is over, Ridgeway will do anything he can to get even. I'm sure he'll have the authorities looking for you."
"If I ever had a desire to blow anyone up, it would be him." Colin grinned. "I'm sure I can learn the expertise if you need me to."
"We'll handle him in our own way," Patrick said, but he was smiling, too. "You can stay, you know."
"My life is in America now. I've found a home, a woman who loves me." He looked at Catherine. "She's as pretty as Catherine, in her own way. And as fiery. It seems we share a passion for scrappy women." His next remark was directed solely to Catherine. "Take care of him for me. He's always been difficult. A hard man, stubborn as a Dublin donkey. But I do think he's trainable. Just don't hold back on the bat and spurs."
Catherine laughed. Still holding the pins she'd been using to secure Timmy's blouse, she went to the stall door. "Good luck to you, Colin. If you ever decide to come back to Ireland, you have a place at Beltene. I saw you ride the night you were pretending to be Cuchulain. Beltene can always use another horse trainer with that kind of expertise."
"I didn't mean to endanger the horse," Colin said. "I knew the path, and I could see that Limerick had the heart and spirit to tackle it without any difficulty. I would never have injured him. I only took him to protect Patrick. I hope you believe that."
"If you hadn't taken him from the hideout, Ridgeway or Emory would have hurt him," Catherine said. "You did us a great favor."
"And tweaked my brother's leathery hide a bit at the same time." Colin put his hand on Patrick's shoulder. "Tell Mick goodbye for me."
"Tell me yourself, you big oaf." Mick stepped up and took Colin by the shoulders, hugging him fiercely. "Watch yourself, man."
"And you." Colin grinned widely. "I hear Allan Emory and his friend suffered some bruises on their trip to the authorities. You wouldn't have beaten men who were already tied up, would you, Mick?"
"Nah! On my mother's grave, I would never do such a thing."
"What happened to them?"
"Can I help it if they had some difficulty rolling around in the back of Patrick's Land Rover? I'd make a curve, and they'd thump, thump, thump across the floor. I'd make another curve, and there they'd go to the other side. Was little I could do to help them, me with my hands busy driving."
"And I'll bet you had nothing to do with ambushing Eamon McShane in the barn and beating him with a broom handle, did you?" Colin asked.
"Not a bit of it. 'Twas the little people who got after him. Pounded him squarely, by the looks of him. But it didn't stop Kent Ridgeway from hiring him on, so all in all, there was no harm done."
"I thought I saw McShane over by the Wicklow grooms." Catherine sighed. "In a way, it doesn't seem fair. Allan and his business partner Craig will spend a long time in jail. Kidnapping is a serious charge." Catherine spoke softly. "Yet Kent is completely free."
"Free, but not undamaged, if I know my brother," Colin said. "I'll be waiting to hear what you finally do to him, Patrick."
"Well, I came by to tell you that it's time to bring Limerick out," Mick told Patrick. "Timmy's ready and the track steward is waiting."
Patrick opened the stall door and stepped out and into his brother's embrace. "Take care, Colin, and good fortune."
"The same to you."
Colin touched his hat in Catherine's direction and left.
"After all those years of hating him, it's a relief to find out I was wrong," Patrick said softly. "No matter what I've lost, I've got my brother back." He went back to tighten the girth one more time. "Ready?" He looked at Catherine. "It's time."
T
HE SUN DAZZLED
off the mahogany coat of King's Quest as he moved toward the starting gate. Only a few steps behind, Limerick's steel gray coat seemed to absorb the light, pooling it in the dapples of his skin. King's Quest danced sideways, eager, ready for the run. Limerick looked at the gate, his ears forward and alert, his step hesitant.
Beside her, Catherine felt Patrick tense. "Limerick," he whispered, and his hands clutched the rail. Looking down the seats of laughing, gesturing spectators, Catherine saw Kent Ridgeway grin. If Limerick balked at the gate, then King's Quest stood a chance of winning.
After an initial refusal, Limerick finally walked into the chute. The back gate closed behind him, trapping him inside until the front gate opened to release the horses.
Up on top of Limerick, Timmy looked around once. Clutching his bat in his right hand, he settled as close to the saddle as possible. When the gate sprang open, Catherine felt her heart stop.
The bay leapt from the gate, striding out with tremendous force. Catherine felt Patrick grab her hand as Limerick broke out, only a second behind the bay.
The crowd cheered, nearly drowning out the announcer who followed the horses through the first turn and the backstretch. They were neck and neck.
"He's limping." Patrick leaned forward, his grip on Catherine's fingers nearly crushing the bone. "Pull him up, Timmy! He's limping!" Patrick's yell was swallowed by the crowd.
Catherine focused on the gray. She watched him stretch and gather, stretch and gather. There seemed to be no hitch in his movement, no soreness or hesitation. But if Patrick saw a limp, she knew it was there. She kept looking.
As the horses rounded the final turn and moved into the homestretch, she saw what she'd been missing. It was a movement so slight that no one but Patrick would have noticed it. Up top, Timmy would certainly feel it. She saw the moment the jockey realized his mount was sore. Sitting back, Timmy pulled on the reins.
A roar went through the crowd as they realized the jockey was trying to halt the big gray horse.
Timmy pulled with all of his strength, and Limerick stretched his neck longer and continued to run.
The horses were neck and neck, a dark shadow and a silver streak, moving at blazing speed along the homestretch.
"Pull back!" Patrick called to the jockey, but there wasn't a prayer that Timmy would hear— or could obey. It was obvious that the gray stallion had made up his mind to run, and Timmy didn't have the strength to pull him down.
With only a hundred yards to go, Timmy gave up battling Limerick. He leaned farther down the horse's neck. His hands braced the big gray and Limerick lengthened his stride by another two inches. Hooves digging into the loam of the track, he pulled forward. Stride by stride, he moved ahead of the bay.
All around her Catherine heard the roar of the crowd. Her hand was numb in Patrick's grip. As Limerick flew beneath the finish line, half a length ahead of King's Quest, she allowed herself one fleeting look of victory at Kent Ridgeway. To her satisfaction, he refused to even meet her glance.
"Patrick!" But she had no time to talk. Still holding her hand, he was dragging her through the crowd to the winner's circle.
Hands slapped her back as congratulations were tossed at her. She had no time to listen or respond. Patrick pulled her forward like a train. When they broke free of the crowd, she had to run to stay with him.
"Patrick!"
"His shoulder, Catherine. I thought I'd arranged the saddle so that it wouldn't rub." At those words, he moved even faster.
Instead of a grin of victory, Timmy's face reflected worry as he sat on Limerick while Mick walked the big horse around to cool him. Well-wishers and other trainers were watching, talking, laughing, offering congratulations and asking for information on the big gray.
"Timmy!" Patrick's voice was sharp with worry.
"I tried to pull him down," Timmy said. "All along the homestretch I was doing everything I could to stop him. I could feel him— " Aware of the curious onlookers, he stopped. "Limerick was determined to win, Patrick. There was nothing I could do at the last but stay with him."
Patrick reached up, as if to assist Timmy off the horse. Mick stepped forward, maneuvering between them. "Leave him be, Patrick, the horse isn't damaged!" He put his hand on Patrick's chest. "It's done and no harm, I'd say. Limerick's a bit sore on his shoulder where the saddle was rubbing, but don't call attention to it. Turn around and smile. Let Miss Catherine stand up here beside her horse for the photos." He motioned her forward. "A big smile now. Beltene is a winner today. Limerick has the good sense to recognize it."
Instead of stepping forward, Catherine withdrew something from the pocket of her jacket.
"Catherine." Mick held the reins out to her as the photographer stepped forward to snap the picture. "Come on up here. They want a picture of you and your horse." A track attendant stood by with a garland of roses.
"No." She handed the paper to Patrick. "I might own Beltene, but I'll never own Limerick. I made a vow to myself when we were on the mountain. Limerick is Patrick's horse. Perhaps we can work something out together about breeding services."