Deadfall (20 page)

Twenty minutes later Linc rode his test, desperately trying to instil some sort of enthusiasm into his horse while giving an outward impression of tranquillity and effortlessness. He had limited success. Even though it was still early, it was set fair to be a warm day and Noddy wasn't inclined to exert himself unduly in a discipline which he considered a dead bore. As the test progressed, Linc was aware that the penalties were steadily piling up and by the time they left the arena he knew he could expect no less than a cricket score, having turned many of the intended circles into oddball potato shapes, and cantered stubbornly round one end on the wrong lead.

Nikki came forward to hold the recalcitrant horse and commiserate as Linc jumped down with a rueful smile.

‘Let's hope Hilary Lang wasn't around to see that!' he remarked, patting Noddy's brown neck.

‘That looked like hard work,' someone said, and he turned to see Dee Ellis approaching.

‘It was,' he agreed.

‘Well, my boy should be full of energy anyway. I've been giving him a few more oats this last week,' she told him.

‘More oats?' Linc nearly choked on the word. ‘He . . . er . . . seemed quite perky last time.'

‘Yes, I know,' she said indulgently. ‘But he's got more to do this time. I didn't want him to struggle.'

Linc had his own ideas about who was likely to struggle but he kept his thoughts to himself. After all, the deed was done. There would be time enough
to criticise Steamer's preparation when he blew his top in the dressage arena, as he might well do on that diet.

Promising to rendezvous with Dotty Dee at her lorry in plenty of time to warm up for Steamer's test, Linc made his way back to his own box with Nikki and the horse, for refreshments. As they passed the end of the row of trade stands a brindle-coloured bullet hurtled out of nowhere and leaped up at Linc, causing the normally placid Noddy to side-step in alarm.

‘What the hell!' Linc exclaimed, swinging round.

The dog sat on his foot, looking up at him with a wide grin.

‘Tiger!' Sandy Wilkes came striding over. ‘Oh, it's you, Linc. He seems to have taken quite a liking to you.'

‘Yeah, looks like it. He should be on a lead round here, you know. You'll cop it, if you're spotted! What are you doing here anyway? Are you trading? I didn't see your stand earlier.'

‘Er, not officially,' Sandy admitted with a sheepish grin. ‘But I'm letting it be known I'm parked in the car park if anyone needs anything.'

‘You'll be lynched if the other traders find out,' Linc told him. ‘Look, would you like to get your dog off my foot, I've got horses to ride.'

‘Sorry.' Sandy hauled Tiger towards him and clipped a lead on to his collar. As he straightened up he looked critically at Linc. ‘Hey, what happened to you?' he asked, gesturing at his own face by way of illustrating his question. ‘That looks nasty.'

‘You should see the other guy!' Linc retorted. The outward signs of the attack had, for the most
part, faded into insignificance but he still bore a scar on his cheekbone and a dark mark under one eye. The deep bruising to the muscles of his torso and upper arms was proving much slower to heal, and he viewed the looming challenge of coping with Dee Ellis's grey with something less than wholehearted joy. ‘By the way, Ruth's here,' he said, changing the subject.

‘I know. I was on my way to find her. See you later.' With a cheery wave, and dragging a reluctant Tiger in his wake, Sandy struck off across the showground.

When Linc finally did haul himself stiffly aboard Steamer, he was pleasantly surprised, as he remembered he had been last time, by the big grey's manners. In the dressage arena he was forward-going but tried hard to do as he was asked. His level of concentration was evident in the activity of his ears and the way he busily mouthed his bit, spewing gobs of foam down his broad, dappled chest. Unfortunately, concentration notwithstanding, excessive mouthing and tail swishing incur penalties, and Steamer finished his test with a very average score, but Linc warmed to him for his generosity of effort.

He made a rapid change back on to Noddy and warmed him up for the showjumping phase, watching Ruth jump a clear round on Magic as he did so. Noddy, in his turn, jumped a careful clear and half an hour later was in the start box for the cross-country.

Ruth had returned from her round some fifteen minutes earlier to report that in general the course
was riding well but that fence five was a bit tricky and, further on, Magic had had trouble shortening for the low bounce into the lake. Linc had digested the information, trying not to dwell on Steamer's treatment of the bounce fence at Talham.

As the steward began his countdown Noddy fidgeted and tried to rub his face on his knee. Linc pulled his head up and made him walk forward round the starting box. The horse's legs were liberally smeared with grease and he'd already managed to get some in his eye while they were waiting. Nikki had had to rinse it out with warm water. Linc didn't want to risk his doing it again.

‘Three, two, one – good luck!' the steward called cheerfully, and Noddy and Linc were off and running.

The first three or four fences were relatively easy and the fifth was a combination of obstacles amongst the trees, which held no problems for Noddy. He skipped through with ease, and Linc patted his neck, pleased with him. Out here in the open country, with room to gallop and natural fences to jump, the lop-eared brown horse came into his own. He had a long, ground-eating stride, and the ability to adjust it to meet the jumps right, without being told. The bounce over two logs into the lake troubled him not at all, and he crossed the finishing line inside the optimum time and still full of running. Even though Linc knew his dressage score would keep him out of the placings, he was very satisfied with the horse's performance.

He wasn't so satisfied with his own condition, however. Dismounting from Noddy he felt a little light-headed and rather as if the stuffing had been
knocked out of him and could only surmise that Beanie's attentions, the week before, had affected him more than he'd realised.

Nikki took charge of the horse, running his stirrups up, loosening the girth and throwing a cotton sheet over his back to cool him down gradually.

‘Thanks, Nik, you're a star,' he told her, gratefully. ‘Can I leave him to you? I'm just going to get a bite to eat before I tackle Steamer.'

‘No problem,' she said cheerfully, and departed for the lorry.

He had, in fact, only twenty minutes or so to spare before warming the big grey up for action, and spent it buying hot, sweet coffee and a bag of freshly made doughnuts.

‘You'll get fat!' a voice commented behind him.

Linc swung round.

‘Josie!' he declared delightedly. ‘I didn't know you were here.'

‘I've only just arrived,' she said, smiling at him with no trace of her recent reserve. ‘I got back from London at eight o'clock this morning. So, are you going to offer me one of those? The smell is making my mouth water!'

Linc didn't bother analysing her behaviour. She looked gorgeous in designer-faded jeans and a stretchy slash-necked tee-shirt, and he was just over the moon that she was there. He held out the paper bag with its sugary contents.

‘Is this the proper diet for a model?'

‘Bugger that!' she announced. ‘I'm starving! What's your excuse? You don't normally eat during a competition, do you? Ruth never does.'

‘Energy food,' he said succinctly. ‘I'm due to ride Dotty Dee's horse in a minute.'

He had told her about his previous encounter with Steamer, and now she frowned at him.

‘Are you fit for that?'

‘To be honest, I'm not sure,' he admitted frankly. ‘I guess we'll find out.'

Taking a chance, he reached for her hand as they walked back towards the lorry park. She didn't appear to object, and by the time he came up with Dee and Steamer, he was on cloud nine.

The big grey's good behaviour lasted for the duration of the showjumping phase, which he completed with no additional penalties, but as soon as they began to prepare him for the cross-country his growing excitement was palpable. Dee checked his protective boots were fitting snugly and that the metal studs in his shoes were tight. Grease was applied to the front of his powerful, iron-grey legs, and his nose, mouth and eyes were sponged out with cold water. Finally, as Linc pulled on his gloves and mounted, she tied a bootlace from the headpiece of his bridle to his topmost plait.

‘There's a confidence booster,' he observed.

‘Better safe than sorry.'

‘What's it for?' Josie had been watching with interest.

‘It's to stop the bridle being pulled off over his ears if I fall off,' Linc told her.

‘Let's hope you don't need it.'

‘Amen to that.'

Linc's number was called and he rode into the start box where Steamer stood like a rock with his
head up and muscles quivering with nervous energy. With ten seconds to go, Linc took a stronger grip on the reins and turned him in a circle.

‘Three, two, one . . . good luck!'

Dee and Josie echoed the starter's call and with a lurch Steamer was off, accelerating like a drag racer. Having experienced it before, Linc was at least not caught unawares, but he soon found that anticipation of the problem went almost nowhere at all towards coping with it.

The first fence, low as always and made up of oil barrels and a rail, rushed at them and was negotiated somewhere mid-stride, with no discernible interruption to their forward progress. The second and third fences went much the same way, but they met the fourth obstacle on entirely the wrong stride and Steamer clouted it hard, his momentum causing him to stumble and nearly pitch on his nose.

Linc, realising some way out what was on the cards, sat back a little and managed to stay in the saddle, taking advantage of Steamer's momentary loss of impulsion to shorten his reins still further and sit down hard, driving him into the bridle. It took all his strength and wrenched his damaged muscles unmercifully, but it worked. The big grey came up short, snorting with indignation, and by anchoring his thumbs in the neckstrap of Steamer's breast-girth Linc was able to keep him steady most of the way to the combination of jumps which formed fence five.

Once Steamer realised that several rails were involved, he concentrated and accepted a certain amount of guidance, with the result of making the
whole thing look easy. As they galloped away towards the sixth, Linc slapped the hot, dappled neck and heard the announcer say in unemotional tones, ‘Lincoln Tremayne and Night Train are safely through the Valley Copse complex and heading for the Bullfinch.'

This matter-of-fact report on his progress was so far removed from his frantic battle for control of the exuberant grey that it seemed almost surreal. As they thundered down a couple of hundred yards or so of clear turf, Linc wondered with amusement if the disembodied voice behind the public address system would still sound so flat if it had to say, ‘Lincoln Tremayne and Night Train have missed fence six, left the course and are heading for Swindon.'

As it turned out, they negotiated the next few fences without mishap, and it occurred to Linc that Steamer might actually have given himself a bit of a fright by hitting the fourth so hard. They were now just over halfway round the course; the lake fence with its problematical bounce-in loomed, and Linc's whole body ached with fatigue.

They burst from the trees, travelling down the long slope towards the lake, and with each stride his control of the horse slipped a fraction more. It was exactly the situation that Linc had hoped to avoid. The sensible course of action was undoubtedly to pull the horse into a circle until he slowed up, but circling once inside the penalty zone meant twenty points added to their score, and now Steamer had seen the jump, Linc wasn't sure he had the strength to turn him anyway.

By the time they reached the first of the two logs,
Steamer was flying. At the last moment he seemed to see the second log, bunched his quarters, stretched his forelegs out and launched himself skywards. After what seemed like an age suspended in mid-air, horse and rider landed in the brownish water of the lake with a colossal splash that must have drenched the photographer who crouched nearby.

How the horse kept his feet, Linc would never know, but somehow he did, and as the weight of the water dragged at his legs, Linc was able to recover from his position up by the grey ears and turn him in the direction of the exit fence and dry land. Seconds later they were out and powering up the bank on the far side to the accompaniment of a huge cheer from the ranks of spectators. The incline allowed Linc a little breathing space and by the time they had made it safely to the other side of a bank and rails near the top of the hill, Steamer had worked off his excessive energy and settled to a pace that was brisk but no longer potentially suicidal.

It occurred to Linc, as they flew the end-to-end park benches that made up the last fence, that here was a horse tailor-made for the gruelling world of three-day eventing. Quite possibly, two sessions of roads and tracks, totalling an hour or more, with a couple of miles over steeplechase fences in between, might temper the air of wild excitement with which he approached the cross-country course. And in spite of the nerve-shredding round he'd just experienced, Linc found himself hoping that he'd be the one to find out.

Once across the finishing line, Steamer relaxed
his jaw and slowed his pace, dropping back to a walk in a very few strides and turning with obvious affection to meet Dee as she hurried forward with Josie a pace or two behind.

‘Bloody hell!' Josie exclaimed explosively. ‘I can't believe you got round in one piece!'

‘That makes two of us,' Linc agreed with a slight smile.

‘Have you seen your time?'