Superstar (15 page)

For the next
three days, she enjoyed herself immensely with the horses and their
handlers. She watched a trainer breaking in a three-year-old with
gentle persuasion, begged to be allowed to lunge a yearling, and a
groom on a huge black stallion escorted her when rode the skewbald
mare every afternoon. Later she took a dip in the pool, enjoyed the
Jacuzzi and watched movies in the viewing room. Mrs Martin catered
to her every whim, making her feel lazy and spoilt.

There was only
one person missing from her idyll, but she told herself that it was
for the best. Her worst moments were when she allowed herself to
wonder what he was doing. The thought of Mark in Janice's arms,
acting out the erotic bedroom scene, made her blood boil. She tried
not to think about it, keeping busy with other things. She grew
fond of the skewbald mare, Misha, who was a gentle ride and
well-mannered. On one of her outings, she spotted a magnificent
palomino running loose across the rolling fields. The horses with
which he ran did not challenge his beauty. His long, pure white
mane and tail flew in the wind as he raced through the sighing
grass. She turned to the groom who accompanied her, a young man
named Shaun.

"Who rides the
palomino, Shaun?"

"Ah, you have
a good eye for horseflesh, Miss York." He grinned. "He's one of Mr
Lord's special horses. Actually no one rides him much. Mr Lord only
does so occasionally. Mr Lord rescued him from a dude ranch where
he was starved and beaten. He's a gelding, so he just runs with the
brood mares."

"Pity he's a
gelding."

"Yes, that's
what Mr Lord said. We have no idea of his breeding, but he is very
beautiful."

Carrin watched
the herd gallop away, and they stopped in the distance to gambol
and graze. The palomino floated over the ground with his tail high.
The more she heard about Mark Lord, the more difficult it was to
imagine him as the brute Helen claimed him to be.

"Does Mr Lord
rescue many horses?"

Shaun nodded.
"We've got quite a few basket cases, horses so badly injured that
they can never be ridden again. They'd have gone to the dog meat
factory if Mr Lord hadn't taken them."

"I'd like to
see them."

Shaun turned
his horse and led her to another paddock, opening the gate. They
rode into a paddock covered with lush grass, where a copse of shady
trees grew on the banks of a stream. She spotted movement amongst
the trees, and they came into sight of a small herd of horses.
Carrin's throat closed, and her eyes burnt as she gazed at them.
Several were quite old, judging by the grey on their heads and
their swayed backs. One was a young bay with swollen, scarred
knees, and a liver chestnut's back was covered in scars. A grey and
a chestnut limped, each favouring a hind leg. A flea-bitten grey
walked with an odd shuffling gait, his head held at an odd angle.
Most were geldings; only a few of the old horses were mares.

Shaun
explained, "If they're young mares, they go to stud. These are the
useless ones." He pointed at the flea-bitten grey. "That one there
has a slipped disk, those two have tendon troubles. The one with
the scarred back is a head case; he used to be a bronco. You can't
get near him. The one with the bad knees was a racehorse. He fell
in the starting stalls and almost killed himself trying to get up.
None of them can be ridden."

Carrin nodded,
unable to speak. If not for Mark Lord, none of them would be alive,
either, she thought sadly. The horses watched them curiously, and
some of the older ones came over to meet their mounts. The chestnut
with the scarred back snorted and laid back his ears. She reached
over to pat the old horse that was sniffing noses with her
skewbald.

"Why does he
keep them?"

Shaun grinned.
"Mr Lord's a kind man, and he loves horses. He also supports a home
for old horses and several animal shelters."

Carrin sighed.
There seemed no end to Mark Lord's good deeds. They returned to the
stables, where she unsaddled and rubbed down the skewbald, shooing
away the grooms who offered to help. Leaving Misha with a grateful
pat, she walked to the ranch house, returning the greetings of
various grooms along the way. As she wandered through the house,
she heard voices, and took no notice until her name was mentioned.
Then she paused, listening.

"You think
she's the one then, Maggie?" Carrin recognised Bert's gruff tones
and strong accent.

"Could be,
couldn't she? I mean, why send her here? He's never done that
before, and now him arriving tomorrow too," Mrs Martin replied.

"Well, I like
her," Bert avowed. "I hope we're right. It's about time."

"Long past
time, if you ask me, Bert."

Carrin turned
away, annoyed with herself for eavesdropping. On the way to her
bedroom, she pondered the conversation. She was the one what? It
seemed that everyone knew what Mark had planned for her. He was
arriving tomorrow? She had been here six days, so tomorrow was
Friday. He should have finished shooting the scene then, but why
come all the way out here for the weekend? One part of her was glad
that he was coming, another part dreaded being in the proximity of
his devastating charm.

After
showering, she went down for dinner, which a smiling Mrs Martin
served. Carrin waited for the announcement, and it came with
dessert.

"Mr Lord's
arriving tomorrow, Miss York."

She picked up
her spoon. "Oh, how nice."

Carrin took a
mouthful of the creamy pudding before she became aware of the
pregnant silence at her shoulder and glanced up. Mrs Martin stared
at her with a mixture of worry and confusion.

"Something
wrong, Mrs Martin?"

Mrs Martin
shook her head, transparently unhappy. "No, nothing."

The
housekeeper left, and Carrin pondered her reaction. Mrs Martin was
clearly worried about something, and she was a kindly soul. Was she
worried about what Mark had planned for Carrin? It couldn't be
anything that bad, surely? He had arranged for her to come to his
ranch alone, something he never did. He had assured her that he
would not be here, and now he was joining her unexpectedly.
Something was going on, and she wished she knew what. Vowing to be
on her guard, she finished her pudding and retired to read a book
before she went to sleep.

Chapter
Seven

The following
morning, when she went to the stables, five grooms saddled older
horses with cowboy saddles. The grooms wore chaps and Stetsons.
Shaun was one of them, and she went over to him.

"What's
happening, Shaun?"

"Cattle drive,
ma'am," he drawled, grinning.

"There are
cows, too?"

"Sure, in the
far ranges. Mr Lord keeps a couple of hundred head. He says it's to
pay the bills, but I think he just likes rounding them up."

Carrin
grinned. "Can I come too?"

Shaun looked
amazed. "It's hard, dirty work, and a bit dangerous too. And Mr
Lord's arriving this afternoon."

"So? I want to
help. I've never been on a cattle drive. Please, Shaun?"

He glanced
around. "Well, it's not up to me. Bert's head groom; you'll have to
ask him."

"When do you
leave?"

He shrugged.
"About half an hour."

"Will you
saddle Misha for me?"

"Misha's not a
cattle horse, Miss York."

"Then saddle
me a cattle horse, please. I'm sure Bert will agree."

Shaun sighed
and shot her an exasperated look. "Yeah, I bet you could persuade
him."

Carrin ran
back to the ranch house to search for Bert, whom she found
polishing the limousine. It was an odd occupation for the head
groom, but then, he was also the chauffeur. When she blurted her
request, he straightened and stared at her as if she had gone
stark, staring mad.

"You want to
go on a cattle drive?"

"Yes."

"It's not a
fun outing, Miss York, it's serious work."

Carrin
frowned. Did he think she was some empty-headed bimbo? "I know, I
was raised on a farm. I want to help. I promise I won't get in the
way."

He shook his
head. "Mr Lord's arriving this afternoon."

"So?"

"So don't you
think you should be here when he arrives? After all, you are his
guest."

She bristled.
"Did he require my presence?"

"No, of course
not, Mr Lord -"

"Well then, he
sent me here to enjoy myself, and I want to drive cattle, not hang
around all day waiting for him to arrive. I'll be back this
evening, so I'll see him then."

Bert looked
shocked, and Carrin wondered what was so terrible about her wish to
drive cattle instead of meeting Mark. Surely he wouldn't want her
to miss all the fun just because he was arriving?

Bert shook his
head, looking confused. "I guess young people do things different,
these days. All right. If your heart's set on driving cattle, then
go to it."

Carrin
grinned. "Thank you, Bert."

As she turned
to go, he asked, "What shall I tell Mr Lord?"

"That I'm
driving cattle, of course."

With an
airy wave, she skipped into the house, leaving Bert to shake his
head and mutter. In her room, she pulled on a pair of old faded
jeans and a strong shirt, digging out a peaked cap. Her short,
practical hair was no problem, and she did not bother with
make-up.

Racing to the
stables, she found the grooms turned cowboys mounting up, and Shaun
grinned.

"Knew you'd
get around Bert," he commented, then nodded at a huge grey gelding
tied to the railing. "There's your mount. His name's Cloud, and
he's about the most experienced cattle horse we've got. Of course,
he's getting on a bit, but you're so small he won't even know
you're there."

Carrin turned
to Cloud, who was solid muscle, apparently, which rippled under his
silken hide. He rested a hind leg, like the cowboy horses in the
movies. The only problem was that he was far too tall for her to
mount. Shaun saw her problem and jumped down from his massive bay.
He boosted her into the western saddle and adjusted the stirrups as
she settled into the chair-like saddle. The pommel rose before her,
and the high back supported her, so that it seemed impossible to
fall off. Despite the long drop to the ground, she felt perfectly
secure aboard Cloud. Shaun finished the adjustments, gave Cloud a
pat on the shoulder and nodded his approval of her apparel.

"Remember,
don't grip."

Carrin raised
her brows.

"That's a
western saddle," Shaun explained. "You try and grip that with your
knees and you'll be sorry."

Understanding,
she relaxed her legs and stretched them out instead, using the
stirrups as footrests. Shaun vaulted aboard his mount, and the
cowboys rode out. To her surprise, Cloud made no move to follow
until she side-reined him. Then he went willingly, keeping pace
with the other horses. At first, Carrin enjoyed the gentle trot,
and admired the passing scenery, but after a while she became aware
of a certain discontent amongst the other riders. She could sense
waves of impatience radiating from them. Realising that they were
going slowly to accommodate her, she guided Cloud closer to
Shaun.

"Listen, if
you guys want to canter or gallop, do so. I'm not some useless
female who's going to fall off, okay?"

Shaun glanced
at her doubtfully, and she knew what was going through his mind.
She was his responsibility, and Mark would have a fit if she was
hurt on his ranch. Fed up with the slow pace and resentment of the
other men for spoiling their fun, Carrin dug her heels into Cloud's
flanks. The response shocked her. Her head whipped back as the
cattle horse shot into a full gallop. Recovering, Carrin laughed
and let out a whoop of delight.

The big grey
hurtled over the golden grass, his mane whipping her face. The wind
almost blew off her cap, and she held it on as she enjoyed the wind
and the thunder of Cloud's hooves. A glance back showed that the
cowboys followed her, grinning broadly now. She gave another wild
whoop, and they joined in, urging their horses on until they drew
level with her. Carrin was delighted. It was like being back in the
Wild West, part of some outlaw gang fleeing the law. She let her
imagination run riot, and spent the journey as an outlaw riding
with her gang of tough gunslingers to a showdown with the law.

Her daydream
changed when they came into sight of a herd of lowing cattle. Now
she was part of a gang of cattle rustlers, bent on stealing the
herd from a rich landowner. The cowboys reined in and studied the
herd. Shaun came over to her.

"Well, that
was quite a ride, Miss York."

"Oh, for
Pete's sake, Shaun, call me Carrin."

He grinned.
"Okay."

"I wasn't
really expecting such a response. I thought you said Cloud was
old."

Shaun
chuckled. "He is, but he's a cattle horse." When she raised a brow,
he added, "Cattle horses move fast."

"I'll keep
that in mind. What do you want me to do?"

He scratched
his head. "Well, I think you should ride to the side, in case of a
break out, you see."

Carrin figured
that the chances of a break out were probably slim to nil. "And
then what do I do?"

"Sit back and
enjoy the ride."

She smiled.
"Okay."

The riders
headed towards the herd and fanned out to start the cattle moving.
They waved their hats as they whooped and whistled, and the herd
began to walk, lowing in discontent. Carrin rode to the side, out
of the way. She was content to amble along, watching the
cattle.

All morning,
the herd moved at a steady pace, pausing for water at a river
before they continued towards the distant ranch. At lunchtime, they
stopped and ate a packed meal. The group of cowboys consisted of
two older, weather-beaten veterans, a tubby, cheerful man who
smiled constantly, and a young, freckle-faced lad of about
eighteen. Shaun, who was about her age, was sandy-haired and
blue-eyed.