A Horse Called Mogollon (Floating Outfit Book 3) (16 page)

Making sure of his balance on
the saddle, he leaned over and hooked his right arm about
Beatrice
’s
waist. Immediately he sensed rather than saw the bay veering away
and felt its rider being drawn from its back. Moaning in terror,
Beatrice locked her arms around his neck in a vice-like grip. Colin
felt a momentary surge of concern. Unless she had heard and obeyed
him, they would be in deadly peril. He doubted if she would release
her hold no matter what the consequences.

The gelding continued to move
away. Still supported by his arm and clinging to
Colin
’s neck,
the woman parted company with it. Whether she had heard his
instructions, or had already lost her stirrup irons, Colin could
not guess. Whichever reason, she had left the bay and not become
entangled with the stirrups. With her body dangling from him, Colin
devoted his whole attention to bringing Mogollon to a halt. He was
not helped any by her wildly kicking legs, or arms clinging to his
neck and half strangling him.

‘
You
can let go now, ma’am,’ Colin gritted as he finally stopped the
stallion. ‘It’s all right. You’re safe enough now.’

With that, he bent over and lowered
her feet to the ground. For a moment she retained her hold, then
opened her arms and stepped away. Colin had thought her to be
beautiful during his earlier, brief glimpses. Taking his first
uninterrupted look at her, he decided that he had never seen a more
seductively attractive woman. That feeling increased when, after a
few seconds, the fear left her features. Staring up, her eyes roved
over him.

‘
You
saved my life!’ Beatrice purred, studying her rescuer with an
expression that went beyond the bonds of gratitude.

Brought about by the
Vicomtesse’s
predatory scrutiny,
an uneasy sensation bit into Colin. However, before any
more
could be said, the
young officer arrived and brought his horse to a rump-sliding halt.
An instant later, while Lebel was still throwing himself from his
saddle, Peet thundered up. The newcomers’ eyes swung from Beatrice
to Colin. Conscious of their cold scowls, the Scot figured that his
intervention had not been welcomed by either man and could guess
why. Beatrice was dressed as she had been on her first meeting with
Mark. Although her glove hid the wedding ring, Colin felt sure that
she would never allow a minor detail like having a husband
interfere with her dealings with other men.

‘
Are
you all right, Beatrice?’ Lebel gasped, concern showing on his
face. Since leaving Fort Sawyer, his scruples about lovemaking with
a married woman had been reduced and he was completely infatuated
by the
Vicomtesse.

‘
You’re
safe, thank God!’ Peet barked, leaping from his mount and letting
it stand with trailing reins.

‘
Thanks
to this gentleman I am!’ Beatrice replied coldly. ‘Perhaps one of
you can manage to catch my horse.’

‘
Go and
get it, Peet!’ Lebel ordered.

‘
Go
fetch it yourself, blue-belly!’ the hunter spat back. ‘I ain’t in
the blasted Army so I—’

‘
Don’t
start bickering!’ Beatrice commanded, the thought of the narrowly
averted danger putting a sharp edge in her voice. ‘I want my horse
collecting. Right now!’

‘
I’ll
go for it,’ Peet offered. ‘The luff’ll
^xvi
likely get hisself all lost if he
went off without somebody to hold his hand.’

‘
That
damned, no-account—!’ the officer began, glaring at Peet’s
departing back then becoming aware that Beatrice was paying no
attention to his words.

‘
Sacred
mother!’ the
Vicomtesse
ejaculated in French, staring at Mogollon. ‘Never have I
seen such a magnificent horse.’

At that moment, her husband arrived.
Looking at the slender, dandified figure, Colin formed the
impression that he was displaying more interest in Mogollon than
towards the woman. With an effort, de Brioude diverted his gaze
from the stallion to Beatrice.

‘
You
are all right,
cherie?’
the
Vicomte
asked.

‘
Shaken
up a little,’ Beatrice replied, ‘but nothing worse.’

‘
You
saved my wife’s life,
m’sieur,’
de Brioude went on, turning to Colin. ‘None of us
has a mount that could have caught her horse so
quickly.’

‘
This
horse of mine’s not slow,’ Colin conceded.

‘
Not
slow?’ repeated Beatrice, walking forward and extending her right
hand. ‘Why he must run like the—’

‘
Don’t
touch him, ma’am!’ Colin warned as Mogollon snorted and swung its
head towards the woman in a threatening manner the Scot had come to
recognize. ‘He doesn’t take kindly to strangers handling
him.’

‘
May I
ask my rescuer’s name?’ Beatrice inquired, lowering her
hand.

‘
Yes,
m’sieur,’
de Brioude went on. ‘A rescuer arriving at such an
opportune moment is surprising enough. But a Scot wearing a
kilt—’

‘
My
name’s Colin Farhquharson—’

‘
Aren’t
you the feller who’s working for Libby Schell?’ Lebel interrupted,
deciding that an answer in the affirmative would change Beatrice’s
feelings towards her rescuer.

‘
Aye,
that I am,’ Colin confirmed.

Instantly he could sense the
chill which came into Beatrice
’s manner. Then things began to slip into focus
for him. On the night of their return from Fort Sawyer, Libby and
Mark had told of the incidents at the hotel and store. The woman
Colin had rescued must be the same who had caused Mark so much
trouble. Clearly her feelings about Libby matched the blonde’s
antipathy towards her.

‘
Then
you are a—how do you say it—mustanger,
m’sieur?’
de Brioude asked eagerly, ignoring
his wife’s change of attitude. ‘You catch, break and sell wild
horses?’

‘
I help
do it,’ Colin agreed.

‘
Will
you sell the one you are riding to me?’ de Brioude wanted to
know.

‘
Yes,
m’sieur,’
Beatrice put in. ‘Will you? I do so want it.’

‘
I’m
sorry, ma’am,’ Colin replied, noticing that a forced smile had come
to Beatrice’s lips. ‘Mogollon’s not for sale.’

‘
But,
m’sieur,’
Beatrice purred seductively, ‘I do
so
want it. Surely
you
won’t disappoint
me?’

Behind the words lay an implied
promise of benefits far greater than mere money. They hinted that
Beatrice
’s
gratitude would be well worth receiving. More than one man, faced
with the full force of her voluptuous charm had yielded to her
wishes or complied with her desires.

‘
It
grieves me, ma’am, but I’ll have to,’ Colin answered.

‘
But
surely you can sell us the horse,’ Beatrice insisted in her most
winning manner. ‘As a favor to
me.
My husband will let you name your own
price.’

‘
Money
doesn’t come into it, ma’am,’ Colin explained. ‘I caught Mogollon
as a wedding gift for my fiancée. So, you see, I couldn’t sell
him.’

‘
But
surely you have other horses,’ the Vicomtesse pouted, trying to
hide her true feelings.

‘
There’s only one Mogollon, ma’am,’ Colin declared. ‘I’m
sorry, but I can’t sell him. Well, seeing that you’re safe, I’d
best be on my way.’

Anybody who knew Beatrice would have
read a warning from the way her eyes narrowed and the pout
disappeared to turn her full lips into a tight line. Those were
signs that her temper approached its boiling point. In addition to
anger at having her desires disregarded, she had another reason for
wanting the horse.

Already impressed by
Mogollon
’s
size, beauty and presence, learning why Colin would not sell had
increased Beatrice’s determination to obtain the horse. The
Vicomtesse
could not forget how
Libby Schell had thwarted her plans regarding Mark Counter.
Brooding on the result of the affair, Beatrice had turned much of
her hate from the blond giant to Libby. If the fat old bitch had
not been with him, Beatrice felt certain that
le beau
Counter would have rushed willingly
into her arms. Discovering that Libby had been in Mark’s bed had
increased the
Vicomtesse’s
hatred. Now she could see a way of avenging herself. Maybe
the old woman was the fiancée for whom the stallion was intended.
If so, forcing the Scot to sell it would be the more
satisfactory.

‘
Wait,
M’sieur
Farquharson!’ de Brioude said, cutting through his wife’s
thought train as the Scot started to turn away. ‘I beg you to
reconsider—’

‘
There’s nothing to reconsider,’ Colin cut in coldly, then
relented a little. ‘If you come to our camp on Wolf Creek, we can
offer you a couple of young stallions sired by him.’

‘
I want
that horse!’ Beatrice spat out. ‘No other will do.’

‘
Like I
said, ma’am,’ Colin answered. ‘He’s not for sale.
Adios.’

‘
Can’t
you make him sell it to me, Charles?’ Beatrice demanded, swinging
to face the officer as Colin rode away.

‘
I’ve
no authority to make him sell,’ Lebel replied, looking
uncomfortable.

Since leaving Fort Sawyer, the
lieutenant had learned that Beatrice hated to be refused anything.
Giving Lebel a glare that carried a knife-like cutting edge, she
spun towards her husband.

‘
I want
that horse, Arnaud!’

‘
Of
course you do,
Cherie,’
de Brioude said soothingly, flickering a glance at Lebel
and making a small signaling motion with his head.

‘
Charles,’ Beatrice purred, knowing what her husband meant.
‘I dropped my carbine when the horse bolted. Be a darling and fetch
it for me.’

‘
Sure,
Beatrice,’ Lebel agreed, only too pleased to get away.

‘
I’m
determined to have that horse,’ Beatrice stated, after the officer
had ridden out of hearing. ‘I don’t care how you do it, Arnaud, but
I
will
have it.’

‘
And I
intend to see that you get it,
Cherie,’
de Brioude promised.

‘
Is
this eagerness just to please me?’ Beatrice asked
suspiciously.

‘
I
always
try to please you.’

‘
Especially when there’s something in it for you. What is it
this time?’

‘
I saw
how fast that horse can run. It caught up to your bay as if you’d
been standing still. There’s much money to be made, racing and
betting on such a horse,
cherie.’

‘
You’ll
have to get it first,’ Beatrice warned.

‘
I
intend to do that,’ de Brioude assured her and looked at Peet as he
returned leading the bay. ‘Do you know that mustanger,
Abe?’

‘
I’ve
heard tell of him,’ the hunter replied. ‘Way he’s dressed, I’d say
he’s the one who works for Libby Schell ’n’ took out the Flores
boys—’

‘
I want
that horse he is riding, Abe,’ Beatrice interrupted
in her most winning
manner. ‘Arnaud tried to buy it, but he wouldn’t sell.’

‘
Maybe
you didn’t offer him enough money, Arnaud,’ Peet
suggested.

‘
Beatrice told him he could name his own price,’ de Brioude
stated. ‘He still refused to sell.’

‘
Did,
huh?’ grunted the hunter, guessing at the way the conversation
headed. ‘That looks like the end of it then.’

‘
People
sometimes change their minds,’ de Brioude pointed out. ‘Especially
if they—shall we say—have help to make them change.’

‘
Happen
you’re figuring on doing the making, the blue-belly there won’t
stand for it,’ warned Peet, nodding in Lebel’s
direction.

‘
He
doesn’t have to know,’ Beatrice pointed out, laying a hand on
Peet’s thigh. ‘Abe, I’ll be
so
grateful to the man who gets me that horse.’