Heiress (61 page)

"I suppose you think he'll break down, too."

"I didn't say anything of the kind." Ross raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Why are we arguing about this? You aren't going to race him, so—"

"Who says I'm not?" she retorted.

Totally bewildered, Ross sat down on the velvet cushions of the antique sofa. "I thought you did."

"Maybe I've changed my mind. If I put Sirocco in training, I'd get twice the publicity she would. Finding a trainer is no problem. I can hire the best in the country."

"You're not serious." He frowned.

"Why not? Sirocco's grandsires raced in Egypt. . . and won." The more she thought about it, the more determined she became. "She said something in the article about entering her stallion in the Liberty Classic at Delaware Park the Fourth of July, didn't she?" She reached for the magazine again.

"I think so."

"Sirocco's going to be in that race, too." She scanned the article again, then underlined the name, date, and place of the race.

"He's your horse, Rachel, but. . . are you sure you know what you're doing?"

"I know exactly what I'm doing. It's going to work out perfectly—in so many ways. Don't you see, Ross? Not only will I get tons of publicity out of this for Sirocco, but it will also give us a chance to meet somewhere away from here—away from all the people who know us. I'll have to send Sirocco somewhere to be trained. And he'll have to run in a couple races before the Liberty Classic. Lane won't think a thing about it if I fly there every other week or so. We can be together—alone—the way we were in Scottsdale."

"You don't have to say anymore. I'm sold."

Rachel stared at the color photograph of Abbie. "I'd give anything to see the look on her face when she finds out." She laughed deep in her throat, relishing the thought.

A warm breeze, heavy with moisture from the Gulf, lifted Windstorm's silvery mane and sent it rippling back across Abbie's hands as she rode the stallion across the field, holding him to a trot. With the afternoon sun beating down out of a pastel sky, the heavy fisherman's sweater provided all the warmth she needed. It was one of those rare, fine days East Texas natives bragged about to their friends and relatives in the North, still shivering in March from the bitter chill of winter.

Slowing the stallion to a walk, Abbie started him around the training track, moving in a clockwise direction. Eden quickly joined her, the pony traveling at a jog-trot to keep pace with Windstorm's long strides. "If they had races for ponies, JoJo would win for sure, wouldn't he?"

Accustomed to her daughter's nonstop chatter and endless questions, Abbie let them wash over her, answering when it was necessary and nodding absently when it wasn't. The afternoon was too beautiful to let anything irritate her, least of all Eden's company.

As they rounded the first turn and started down the backstretch, Eden grew impatient with the slow pace Abbie set and cantered her pony ahead. Watching her, Abbie smiled. Eden always wanted to come with her when she exercised Windstorm, but invariably she grew tired of riding around the track and looked for something more challenging to do—like exploring the wooded creek bottom or stacking the leftover boards from the track rail in a pile for her pony to jump.

Somewhere a horse whinnied shrilly. Abbie glanced at the group of yearlings that crowded close to the white fence of the adjoining pasture at River Bend. The twin turrets of the Victorian-style mansion drew her attention, the peaks of their cone-shaped roofs poking into the pale blue sky.

"Hey!" Eden's sudden, sharp call snapped her attention back to the track. "What are you doing? Who said you could play here?"

Twenty yards ahead, Eden had stopped her pony and turned it crosswise on the track, blocking the trespasser from Abbie's view. Abbie dug a heel into Windstorm's side and the stallion bounded forward, quickly covering the short distance.

Before she reached her daughter, Abbie spied the young boy, Eden's age, with a toy truck clutched in his arms. The boy backed up quickly as if afraid she was going to run him down as she reined Windstorm to a halt beside Eden's pony. His eyes were saucer-round as he apprehensively glanced from Abbie to Eden and back, then darted a quick look over his shoulder as if gauging the distance to the track's outer rail and his chances of making it.

"What's he doing here, Mommy?" Eden demanded with proprietorial outrage.

"I. . ." The boy's mouth worked convulsively as he tried to get an answer out. "I was. . . just playing in the dirt with. . . my new truck. I didn't hurt anything."

Feeling sorry for him, Abbie smiled gently. "Of course you didn't. You just scared us. We didn't know you were here." But the boy didn't look altogether sure that they could possibly be as scared as he was. "What's your name?"

"Alex," he said reluctantly, backing up another step.

Abbie unconsciously lifted her head and glanced toward River Bend. Rachel's son was named Alex. Turning back, she studied him thoughtfully. Except for his light blue eyes, she could find little resemblance to Rachel. Yet he had to be her son.

"You live at River Bend, don't you?"

He bobbed his head in hesitant affirmation, then qualified his answer. "Sometimes."

Abbie vaguely recalled hearing that, even though Rachel spent a great deal of her time here, she sent her son to a private school in Houston during the week. "Does your mother know you came over here to play?"

"No." He stared at the ground. "She doesn't care. She doesn't care about anything I do." The mumbled answer carried with it a jumble of self-pity and resentment that caught Abbie by surprise.

"Oh, I'm sure she cares a lot," Abbie insisted, but Alex just shook his head in silent denial, forcing Abbie to consider how much more time Rachel spent at River Bend with her horses than she did in Houston with her son. "I'm glad to meet you, Alex. My name's Abbie and this is my daughter, Eden."

"How come that truck has such big wheels? It looks funny," Eden declared, frowning curiously at the truck he held.

"It's supposed to. That way it can go anywhere and run over anything. And it's fast, too. Faster than any horse," he retorted, eyeing her pony.

"That can't be faster than JoJo," Eden scoffed. "It's just a toy."

"Well, if it was real, it would be."

"Where'd you get it?"

"It was a present."

"Can I see it?" Kicking free of the stirrups, Eden jumped off her pony and walked over to look at his toy.

Abbie started to call her back, recognizing that Rachel would be upset if she knew Alex was here. Then she asked herself what harm it would do if Alex stayed a little while. Eden would certainly enjoy playing with someone her own age, and Alex probably would, too. Just because she and Rachel had had their differences in the past, there was no reason to drag the children into it.

When Abbie suggested that the two of them play in the track's infield, Eden blithely agreed and bossily shepherded Alex into it, leading the pony in tow. It never occurred to Eden that Alex might not want to play with her. Once again Abbie started the stallion around the track, this time at a rocking canter.

As Abbie cantered Windstorm past the first furlong pole, she noticed the white Mercedes driving slowly along the country road that ran past the field. She knew of only one car like it in the area, and it belonged to the Canfields.

Instinctively she checked Windstorm's stride and turned in the saddle to glance at the boy and girl playing in the infield, making mountains out of the clods of dirt for the toy truck to climb. She suddenly realized that she had no idea how long Alex had been playing here before she and Eden arrived. Someone might have discovered he was gone and come out to look for him. Why hadn't she obeyed that first impulse and sent him home? Rachel would be furious when she found him here.

As the Mercedes rolled to a stop, the trailing plume of dust ran over it, enveloping the vehicle in a hazy cloud. Abbie reined the stallion in and swung him back toward the infield. She started to yell to Alex to run for home, then she saw how flat and open the stretch of ground between the track and the white-fenced boundary of River Bend was. He'd never be able to cross it without being seen.

The settling cloud of dust partially obscured the man who climbed out of the passenger side of the car. Then, strangely, the Mercedes pulled away, leaving him behind. Abbie recognized that long, easy stride that had all the grace of a mountain lion. She felt a new tension race through her.

Unconsciously she tightened her grip on the reins and Windstorm sidestepped nervously beneath her, his ears flicking back and forth as his attention shifted from her to the man vaulting the fence and starting across the field toward them. As MacCrea approached the track, Abbie observed how rested he looked, compared to the last time she'd seen him. His handsome features now emanated strength instead of tiredness.

"Hello." He stopped on the opposite side of the track rail, his hands pushed negligently into the pockets of his leather jacket.

As she looked down at him from astride the stallion, she found the height advantage unsettling. She was too used to looking up at him. She swung out of the saddle and stepped onto the dirt track, gathering together the loose reins to avoid looking at him. "You were with Lane?"

"Yes, we had some business to finalize. You obviously meant it when you told Rachel you intended to race your horse." His glance made a cursory survey of the completed track.

"Yes."

MacCrea ducked under the rail and absently stroked the stallion's warm neck. "Looks like he's coming along all right."

"He is." She was conscious that his attention never really left her, not even when he seemed to direct it elsewhere.

"I got the picture of Eden you sent me."

Abbie was relieved that he'd finally mentioned Eden. She was tired of talking around the reason he was here. At the same time, she didn't want to be the one to introduce Eden into the conversation. "It's a school picture. I thought you might like to have one." She had hoped it might placate him a little and keep him from demanding to see Eden too often.

"Where is she?"

"Over there, playing." Abbie nodded her head in the direction of the infield.

A frown flickered across his face. "Who's the boy with her? That can't be Alex."

"I know I should have sent him home, but I didn't think it would hurt anything if they played together a little while." She turned as Alex hesitantly petted the pony's nose.

"I'll be damned," MacCrea swore softly. "Now I've seen everything."

Stung by the amused disbelief in his voice, Abbie reacted angrily, regarding it as another dig against her. "And just what does that mean?"

"Alex. He's always been afraid of horses. Now look at him."

"Alex is probably like a lot of boys," Abbie guessed. "He doesn't want to admit to a girl that he's scared. It would be too embarrassing."

"You're probably right."

Just then Eden saw MacCrea and let out a squeal of delight. "Mac!" She ran across the infield, pulling the pony along by its reins. Alex lagged behind, steering wide of the animal's hindquarters. Intent on the children, Abbie wasn't aware MacCrea had moved away from her until she saw him walking across the track to greet Eden. She led Windstorm over to them, reaching them as MacCrea swung Eden into the air and stood her on the top rail. "How did you get here?" Eden looked around for his company pickup.

"Magic." He winked.

Eden eyed him skeptically, then turned to Abbie. "Mommy, how'd he get here?"

"He walked."

"I knew it wasn't magic." She directed a sternly reproving look at MacCrea, then giggled. "You're silly."

"So are you." He tweaked her nose.

"No, I'm not." She jumped down from the rail and grabbed his hand. "I want you to meet my friend. He's got a truck and the wheels are bigger than it is. Wait until you see it." Turning, Eden waved at Alex, motioning for him to join them. "Come show him your truck."

But Alex hung back. "Alex knows I've already seen his truck," MacCrea said.

"When?" Eden demanded in surprise, then frowned. "Do you know Alex?"

"I sure do." He smiled.

"Do I have to go home now?" Alex raised his head, reluctance in every line of his face.

MacCrea glanced briefly at Abbie. She had the impression that he, too, was unwilling to break this up. "Your father's home. He will be wondering where you are. And your mother's probably missed you, too."

"No, she hasn't," Alex said, again with a bitter resentment that Abbie recognized too well. He added something else that sounded a lot like "She never misses me," but Abbie couldn't be sure.

"Just the same, we probably should leave," MacCrea said quietly, then cast a sidelong glance at Abbie. "You understand?"

"Of course." If they did start looking for Alex, she knew it was better that they didn't find him here.

"Does he have to go now? Can't he stay a little longer?" Eden pleaded in protest. "I wanted to take him to the slough by the creek. He doesn't think there's any alligators in it and I wanted to show him. Please."

"Maybe another time, Eden." He laid a hand on top of her head and gave it a little push down.

Eden grimaced at the refusal, then pursued the carrot MacCrea had offered. "Maybe you can come over tomorrow, Alex, and we can go then. We'll be here, won't we, Mommy?"

"Yes," Abbie admitted uneasily, realizing she was going to have to have a talk with her daughter. She dreaded trying to explain to Eden why Alex's parents might not want him playing with her. How could she make Eden understand, when she no longer understood it herself? Yet once she had hated Rachel with all the venom of a Texas rattler. Her hatred for Rachel was gone, but she feared their long-standing feud was about to start poisoning their children, and she didn't know how to stop it.

"Will you come, Alex?" Eden persisted.

"I don't know if I can." The boy shuffled his feet uncomfortably and stole a look at MacCrea.

"Please try," Eden wheedled. "We'll have lots of fun."

But Alex was obviously unwilling to commit himself as he chewed on his lower lip. MacCrea stepped into the void. "Come on, sport. We'd better go."