Hayburner (A Gail McCarthy Mystery) (19 page)

"Me, too."

I stared into his smiling eyes, my heart thumping crazily in my chest. I wanted nothing more than to drag him into the hay barn and wrestle him to the straw.

No, Gail, my mind lectured. Don't go there. Maintain some semblance of control. I took a deep breath. "Maybe we should work the colt first," I said.

 
Blue's grin grew wider. "If you want. How about one more kiss, just to keep me going?"

And then we were in each other's arms again.

So much. So much feeling rushing through me. So much wanting, so much need. It felt like a torrent, gushing through my body as I wrapped my arms around Blue's neck and pulled him down to me.

"I want you," I murmured.

"I can tell."

We both laughed, breaking apart again.

"Okay," he said. "First the horse."

"Right."

I went to the corral to catch Danny, thinking that I had never felt desire like this before. Never had I wanted any body so much. Literally any "body." My body wanted Blue Winter's body in a deep, yearning, intense way I was unprepared for.

It unnerved me somewhat. I put the halter on Danny without really seeing the horse, doing the familiar actions on automatic pilot, still wondering what in the world had come over me. It wasn't just lust; I knew that feeling; I could deal with it. This was something else, this longing to be mated.

Danny bumped my elbow with his nose as I opened the gate of his pen, as if to say, Look at me.

I stroked his neck absently as I guided him out the gate, noticing that he walked quietly, obedient to my control. A good sign.

Leading the horse up to the round pen, I asked Blue, "How is it going to work, just riding him on weekends?"

"It's not ideal," he said quietly.

"That I know. There just isn't much I can do about it right now. I haven't gotten home before dark once this week."

Blue shrugged. "You do what you can do. Just like everything else in life. In a perfect world, you'd work with this horse every day, except when you felt he needed some time off. It will be harder to train him if you can only work with him on weekends. But if that's what you can do, that's what you can do."

"You're right." I sent Danny trotting around the pen, admiring his long, graceful stride as I spoke. "Anything I can do to help compensate?”

"Take a lot of time with his warm-up. Make sure he's thoroughly aired out and has all the kinks out of his legs before you try to teach him anything new. Especially before you get on him. That will give him a chance to settle down and learn."

"All right," I said.

Twenty minutes later Danny's coat was damp with sweat and his breathing was notably elevated. He'd more or less volunteered the exertion, moving freely around me with very little encouragement. I could see in his eyes that he was ready to rest.

"What do you think?" I asked Blue.

"I'd get on him right now," he said.

Without hesitation, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, I said, "Whoa" to Danny and waited until he came to a stop in front of me. I rubbed his forehead, checked to make sure his cinch was tight, took the lead rope in one hand, and climbed on him, all in one motion. The colt stood quietly, and I patted his neck.

Blue grinned from ear to ear. "That was perfect. Just like you did it every day of your life."

I grinned back at him in a rush of exhilaration. Clucking to Danny, I walked him around the pen a few times, then trotted a couple of laps. He responded obediently, completely docile, and answered my "whoa" with alacrity.

"Now what?" I asked Blue as Danny came to a stop.

"I'd quit if I were you. He's really accepting the idea of being ridden. Tomorrow we can work on bitting him up a little, maybe."

"Sounds good to me." I patted Danny's neck and slid off of him. Stroking the horse's shoulder one more time, I loosened the cinch and led him out of the pen.

Blue met me at the gate with a hug. "You done good," he said into my ear. And then we were kissing each other again, Danny forgotten at the end of his lead rope.

"It feels so right," Blue said, when we finally separated.

It was right, I thought: This man and I together, our dogs at our heels, the shared collaboration on the colt, this place, this moment. It was right.

"You could move your trailer out here if you wanted," I said. "I mean, when you need to move."

For a long moment Blue regarded me steadily and said nothing. I couldn't read his face.

With the thought, fear rushed in. What had I said? Maybe Blue didn't feel as I did. Maybe lust struggled with claustrophobia in his heart. I'd known many men who no sooner felt entangled with a woman than they had to run. Maybe my offer sounded like a snare.

I waited. The silence went on.

"You'd be my landlady?" he said finally.

"I guess." Doubt made my voice rough. Instantly I added, "It's just an idea."

"Where would we put the trailer?" Blue was looking around.

I waved a hand. "There, by the vegetable garden, I thought."

Blue followed my gaze. "That could work, I suppose." He looked at me again. "Really?"

I nodded my head at him. "Yes. I guess."

"You don't seem too sure," he said.

"I don't know what to say." I looked at the ground.

Then Blue's arms were around me. I could feel his hand tipping my chin up so my mouth met his. "Thank you," he said, "for even thinking of it."

And suddenly the doubts went flying away like departing crows. Once again I sensed the rightness, knew it was worth trying.

"Think about it," I said to Blue. "I'm sure we could work something out."

"I will," he said. "Now let's put that horse away."

* * *

Two hours later we lay in my bed, wrapped in each other's arms, Blue's steady heartbeat against my chest. Pale, milky sunlight filtered through the window; I could see the big blue gum outside, standing sentinel on the ridge. Roey and Freckles lay sacked out next to the bed, side by side.

I took a deep, happy breath. This, I thought, is what content feels like. I want nothing more.

The tree on the ridge rippled gently, its slender leaves alive to the most delicate air currents. Creamy yellow blossoms-silky, tassel-like heads-mingled with blue-silver seedpods on the crowns of the eucalyptus, shining like snow in the sun. I lay in my bed, next to my lover, staring at the big tree. Thoughts filtered in and out of my mind.

"My God," I said quietly. "I forgot to tell you. There was another fire last night."

"Oh no."

"Harkins Valley Stables. Where Lucy Kaplan trains. And it's possible a man died."

"Oh no," Blue said again. "Who?"

"A caretaker named Frank. That's all I heard."

Suddenly I was restless. Slipping out of Blue's arms, I padded naked into the other room and picked up the phone. Rummaging through my address book, I found the number I was looking for. Jeri Ward's cell phone. She'd given it to me this last summer, when we'd collaborated on another matter.

Jeri answered on the first ring. "Detective Ward."

"It's Gail McCarthy," I said. "I was thinking about the fire last night. Was the caretaker killed?"

"I'm afraid so," Jeri said. "Firefighters found him this morning. Found his bones, anyway. He must have been trying to get the horses out and got trapped in there. The fire burned most of his flesh away."

"My God," I said. "Same m.o. for the fire?"

"Walt says yes."

"And Larry Rogers?"

"We'll be taking him in for questioning this afternoon."

"He's sticking by his story?"

"So far. His wife confirms that he was home with her, watching TV. He admits to having set those barn fires in '85, but says he's been clean since. There's no evidence we can find to the contrary. "

"Still, it's a pretty big coincidence, don't you think?"

I could hear Jeri's sigh clearly. "You wouldn't believe how often we find these weird coincidences, Gail. It's really true what they say about life being stranger than fiction. No mystery writer could get away with the freaky stuff we turn up. Larry Rogers being at these fires could be just that, a freaky coincidence."

"But you don't think so?" I asked her.

"I don't know."

"Why did he set the other fires?"

"It was a really strange deal. He lived in a part of the Soquel Valley that had a lot of horses, just like Harkins Valley. He says he thought the horses stank. He never gave any other reason for burning the barns down."

"Sounds pretty weird to me. How did he get caught that time?"

"Caught in the act while he was lighting his fifth fire. By the guy that owned the barn. I guess Larry put up something of a fight, but the owner was a tough old rodeo cowboy named Brown who beat our boy Larry up pretty thoroughly and then called 911."

"Wow," I said slowly. "Quite the story."

"Yeah, it is. Anyway, I have to go. I'm on my way to pick Larry up and take him downtown."

"Good luck," I told her.

Hanging up the phone, I returned to bed and Blue. He'd heard my half of the conversation; I filled him in on the rest.

"Damn," he said when I was done. "Sounds like they've caught the guy."

"It does," I agreed. "It sure does."

EIGHTEEN

The next night I had a date with Clay Bishop. I'd made my excuses to Blue, saying merely that I had a commitment, then called Clay and asked him out to dinner. The net result was that I was now feeling guilty for having misled both men.

It was time, I argued with myself, to straighten this out. I needed to talk to Clay, let him know I was committed to someone else, let him say what he had to say. We both needed some closure. Tomorrow I would tell Blue what I had done and that would be that.

Clay and I had agreed to meet at the old Bayview Hotel, one of my favorite dinner spots. Seated on the enclosed veranda, across a white-skirted table from a handsome, apparently self-possessed, and very quiet Clay, I found myself at a complete loss for words.

I just didn't know how to lead into it. Facing this man, I was struck by how much I genuinely liked him. From his long-lashed eyes to his understated competence and intelligence, I found him very appealing. Without Blue Winter's presence in my life, I would have been very happy to go out with Clay indefinitely.

But Blue's presence was a tangible thing, and Clay's appeal just wasn't in the same league. I needed to find the right words.

I opened my mouth to speak. What I heard coming out was, "I haven't seen you since Lucy Kaplan's fire."

"Yeah," Clay said heavily. "Poor Frank."

"Did you know him?"

"Not really. I'd met him once or twice, down at the store. He seemed like a nice old man." Clay's face looked strained. "I guess they've caught the guy who did it."

News travels fast in a small community. "Sounds like they might have," I agreed.

Clay picked somewhat gingerly at the food on his plate. "It would sure be a big relief for everyone."

"It would."

"Next Friday everybody in Harkins Valley with a boarding stable is going to be scared to death."

"They were all boarding stables, weren't they?"

"Yeah, they were. Ours first," Clay said. "Then Christy's, then Lucy's."

"You're right." I hadn't been struck by the boarding stable aspect before and wondered what it might mean. Perhaps Larry Rogers felt that there were too many big horse barns in the area. If he was true to form, maybe he thought they smelled.

I watched Clay eat his steak and tried to get myself back on track. Somehow or other, I needed to find the right words. I really did not want to hurt this man.

As if on cue, Clay met my eyes. "So what's on your mind?" he asked.

I sighed. "This isn't easy for me to say, but I need to tell you. I'm dating someone else." There. It was out. I felt a huge sense of relief.

Clay was quiet for a long moment. "I understand. We're not committed to each other yet. I was hoping you were going to tell me that you're ready to be more involved, but I can wait. I'm a patient man."

My relief evaporated at his words. "Clay, I don't think you understand. I am involved. With the other person."

Clay met my eyes steadily. "For how long?" he asked.

"A couple of weeks."

"It may not last."

"That's true. Then again, it might."

I was puzzled by Clay's reaction. Outwardly he was as calm and cool as ever, but I had the sense there was a lot going on underneath that smooth surface.

"I just wanted you to understand why I won't be dating you anymore," I went on. "It's not that I don't like you, because I do, I really do. I want you to know that."

Once again Clay's eyes held mine. "Then maybe, in the end, you'll choose me. I won't give up on you, Gail."