Lure of the Falcon Read online

  'I've brought you some hot water,' she dropped the bucket on the stable floor beside the Corporal, 'and

  some soft soap. There's plenty more if you want it.' She thrust the tin into his hands and he gave her a grateful look.

  'Good for you, miss. You know what's wanted, I can see that.' Wyn did, she had encountered more than one similar emergency while she was at home. hurriedly, the groom soaped his one arm to the elbow, working up a slippery lather. 'That's fine,' his face was tight with concentration. 'The foal's laid all of a tangle. I'll see if I can straighten him out a bit.' Wyn marvelled at the patient way the mare accepted hisministrations, seeming to know by instinct that the man was doing his best to help her. 'There, I reckon he might do now, but the mare's exhausted. We'll have to help her.'

  'I've got some pieces of rope here.' Russell quickly unwound two short coils. 'You tie that side, and I'll tie this.' They bound the cord securely round two tiny protruding hooves. 'Now pull.'

  'Give me your side, and have a rest.' Wyn took the other rope from Corporal Benny.

  'Thanks, miss. I could do with a breather.' He used the rest of the hot water and some more soap, and lathered his arm clean with scrupulous care. 'Now give it back to me,' he took the rope again. 'This needs more strength than a lady's arms have got,' he smiled at her.

  'I'll go and get some more water.' She picked up the bucket and vanished housewards, trying not to see the warm, grateful expression on Russell's face as she worked beside him, lent energy she would not have otherwise possessed by his urgent whisper in her ear while his groom was busy sluicing himself at the other side of the stable.

  'Bless you, Wyn,' he murmured fervently. 'You're a grand little partner in an emergency.'

  If only she could be just that, she thought wistfully, pouring kettles of hot water into the swilled-out bucket. But not just in an emergency. 'For life,' her heart added, as she began the return journey back to the stable.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  'It’s a boy ! '

  The lines of strain on Russell's face faded into a contented smile as he took the fresh bucket of water from Wyn, and stepped aside so that she could see.

  'He's white—just like Pendelico,' she breathed, her eyes shining.

  'There isn't a flaw on him.' Russell put his arm about her shoulders and hugged her to him in an excess of delight, laughing down into her face, forgetful of everything but the wonder of the new life lying in the straw at their feet.

  'The mare?' Wyn asked.

  'She'll be fine. Look,' instinctively he lowered his voice, 'she's nuzzling-the baby already.' Slowly the mare's tongue came out, licking life into the tiny body lying bewildered and helpless at her feet.

  'Oh, look, he's trying to stand up.' Long spindly legs suddenly realised what they had come into the world to do, and struggled ineffectually to raise the funny little body with its too big head, only to collapse again instantly, leaving a surprised look on the long face that drew a chuckle from Corporal Benny, busy with his sponge and fresh supply of hot water.

  'His knees haven't got the message yet, but they will,' he predicted comfortably.

  'Can we see?' A would-be whisper cut piercingly through the stable, and they turned to where two pairs

  of round eyes peered owlishly over the top of the stall. There was a scraping sound and one pair disappeared. Jane had slid from her precarious foothold on the hinge of the door; she was not tall enough to see over it if she stood on the floor.

  'Come in quietly, then.' Russell did not remove his arm from about Wyn, but kept her close, a position she was content to rest in for as long as it suited him. A quiet sense of happiness pervaded her whole being, a strange contentment that was without foundation, and would not last, but for the moment it acted as a balm to her sore heart, and she let it heal the bruises, refusing to think ahead.

  'Isn't he sweet?' Small Jane gazed entranced.

  'He's just like Pendelico—oh look, he's made it,' Jon offered ungrammatical congratulations as the foal staggered to its feet and stood triumphantly splay-legged, with a precarious balance that lasted a full half minute before its legs folded under it again and deposited it back on the floor. 'It's a boy, Gran ' Jon spread the good news as Louise joined them. 'What'll you call him, Uncle Russell?'

  'We'll all have to think about a name,' Russell replied gravely. 'It's important, it's got to last him the rest of his life,' he gave them both an interest in the proceedings, and the opportunity to share. 'He's lucky he's got any life,' he added, eyeing the object of their hard work as if he still could not quite believe that all was well.

  'He wouldn't have had if Wyn had rode the mare like Aunty Diane wanted her to,' Jon put in sagely. 'She ..

  'Hush, Jon ! ' Wyn put her fingers to her lips severely,

  but she was too late to prevent Russell from hearing.

  'What's this?' His rapt look faded, and he frowned.

  'Oh, it's all right, Wyn told her no.' Jon watched fascinated as the small creature regained its feet and stood more steadily. 'She said Aunty Diane should know better,' he remembered with evident satisfaction.

  'I think it's time we left the mare in peace, don't you?' Louise broke in tactfully. 'Come along, both of you. You can come again to see the foal before you go to bed.' She coaxed them out of the stable, and Russell looked at Corporal Benny.

  `Do you need any more help?' he enquired.

  'No, sir, I'm finished myself now,' his man replied cheerfully. 'I'll let the vet have a look at the mare when he comes, just to be on the safe side, but she should be as right as a trivet as soon as she's had some rest,' he said thankfully. 'I was real glad of your help, miss,' he told Wyn.

  'And so am I,' Russell added his thanks as they walked across the cobbled yard together. 'And it seems I'm in your debt on another score, as well,' he referred' soberly to Jon's comment in the stable. 'Is there no end to the things I've got to thank you for?' he asked her.

  'There's no need to thank me for not riding a mare in foal,' she retorted quietly, 'it's only common sense. And as for the rest,' she meant the work inside the house, 'it's my job. What you're paying me to do.'

  'Don't do any more of it today,' he said impulsively. 'Let's have the afternoon off, to celebrate?' His face looked boyishly young and carefree; as she had not seen it since she came to the Grange. 'I promised I'd take you up Tylar Barrow to see the view,' he re-

  minded her. So he had meant herself, and not Diane after all.

  `Are the children coming, too?'

  'No—do you want them?' He looked oddly disappointed.

  'No! ' Her emphatic reply made him laugh, and he grasped her hand and pulled her towards the house.

  'We'll go in the Land Rover to the foot of the Barrow,' he suggested. 'We can spend more time up there then. Let's go as soon as we've finished lunch.'

  She didn't care what they, went in, so long as they went together—and alone. Wyn raced upstairs to tidy herself for the meal, her heart singing so that it rivalled the blackbird carolling through the windows to his mate in the knot garden.

  'You've got some post by your plate,' Louise told her as she sat down, and Wyn excused herself and slit the envelopes open quickly. They were all birthday cards. She had forgotten it was her birthday.

  'No wonder you look so happy,' Val laughed. 'Many happy returns! ' She accepted their congratulations, laughing with the others at the children's out-of-tune rendering of 'Happy Birthday to You'. It hadn't seemed much like a happy birthday when she got up that morning, she remembered ruefully. It was strange, and wonderful, how a few hours could change everything.

  `Go and jump in the Land Rover,' Russell bade her afterwards. 'I'll join you in a few minutes. I just want to make a quick phone call.'

  He was less than five before he reappeared, and dropped his jacket carefully on to the back seat. It landed weightily, as if he had something in the pocket. 'Hold on to me if you find the going too steep, I'll pull

  you up,' he advised Wyn as she gazed upwar
ds at the high rise of the ancient Barrow looming overhead when, they stopped.

  'You'll do no such thing,' she retorted, her pride stung. 'I've climbed stiffer slopes than this many a time.' Just the same she took his hand, for the sake of the feel of his firm, warm grip that seemed to melt her muscles so that she was glad after all to rely on him to pull her up the last few feet on to the small plateau at the top.

  The light wind ruffled her hair into soft open curls, and he drew her to him, his hand forestalling hers as she went to brush them away from her forehead. He let the curls wind about his fingers, entrapping them with their soft, silky folds, and gently he tipped her head so that she looked into his eyes, her own wide, and fawn-startled.

  `Wyn—darling.' His voice was hoarse with emotion. He bent his head and his lips sought hers, not angrily, as he had kissed her before, but hesitantly, with a seeking, tender pressure that asked as well as took. 'I love you,' he whispered huskily.

  For a brief, unbelieving minute Wyn wondered if the breeze had bewitched her ears, but it was Russell's voice that murmured; Russell's lips that left her own and touched the throbbing hollow of her throat, her eyes, and chin, and then her lips again, until she raised her arms and twined them about his neck, returning his ardour in a long, sweet surrender that sent her heart to sing along with the skylark, trilling high above them in the clear, cloudless blue.

  'Say you'll marry me.' He still had to be sure, stand-

  ing above her, his grey eyes raking her face for the answer he wanted.

  I’ll marry you.' It was only a whisper, but it was enough.

  'I've no right to ask you, but I couldn't wait any longer,' he confessed. 'I had to know ...'

  'Then why ...?' If he had spoken before it would have saved her heart a lot of suffering.

  'I've got nothing to offer you,' he pointed out, but now he had her answer his voice was uncaring. 'I've thrown away my career, and unless you find the will, and it names me as the heir to the Grange, I've got no prospects either.'

  'I don't care about prospects, so long as we're together.' But he did, and she sensed that it hurt his pride, that he could not lay his bounty at her feet.

  'You've got Pendelico and the mares. And the foal, now, as well,' she reminded him, snuggling contentedly under his arm that wrapped protectingly round her. 'We'll start from scratch and build the Tylar stud together.' It would be a long, uphill battle, but by his side Wyn felt strong enough to achieve miracles. 'If you don't inherit the Grange, we'll get land somewhere else. The treasures in the house are wonderful,' she knew it would hurt him to have to part with his lovely home, 'but possessions aren't necessary. Not to us,' she declared softly, and felt his lips press lightly, lingeringly, on her hair.

  'You're my dearest possession. My greatest treasure. All the rest are bric-a-brac.' And happily returning his embrace, Wyn knew that what he said was true. If he inherited the Grange he would be a man of con-

  siderable wealth, and not a little standing, but in his eyes she would always come before both.

  'It's been a wonderful birthday.' Her words were a long sigh against his shoulder.

  'Your birthday—I completely forgot ! Loosing his one arm from round her, he felt in his jacket pocket, that he had draped on the ground for her sit on. 'Happy birthday, darling.' His kiss was the only present she wanted, but she took the tissue-wrapped package from his hand.

  'But you only knew it was my birthday an hour or two ago!'

  'I've been saving it for you for days,' he confessed. 'I thought it would be a nice going-away present for you. And then I couldn't bear to think of you going away ...'

  'They're lovely ! ' Wyn lifted out the pair of Bristol blue scent bottles, gilded with delicate decoration, and traced her finger across the tiny screw-on silver-gilt caps. They were twisted, 'just like the chimneys of the Grange,' she smiled, and came encased in a small wooden travelling box covered in green shagreen.

  'I got them the day I went into town to get your ladder,' Russell told her. 'There's an antique shop there. They told me the date was about 1790 .' His raised eyebrows questioned their authenticity, and she nodded.

  'That would be about right for these. Oh, Russell, thank you!' She returned his kiss. 'I'll treasure them, always,' she whispered. 'I wonder who they belonged to, all those years ago?' It would be nice to think they had been given as another birthday present, and

  brought joy to the heart of a girl long ago who treasured them too.

  'The shop didn't have their history, I'm afraid,' Russell said gravely. 'They haven't all got the interest in lovely things that you have.'

  'I'll have to add them on to your insurance bill,' she smiled up at him mischievously.

  'If all goes well, you will.' His face darkened momentarily. 'I'd have liked to give you the little silver dressing table set in the bride's room,' she had admired the dainty ware when she first moved in, 'but until the matter of the will is settled it's not mine to give.' He was scrupulous about his stewardship, and Wyn loved him all the more because of it.

  'Don't think about that.' She smoothed the crease from his forehead with soft fingertips. 'It's too peaceful up here to bring worries with us. In a way,' she mused,

  can understand how Val feels about flying. The world seems a long way away, up here ...'

  'You mean he's above mundane cares when he's in his plane? Val usually is, even with both his feet on terra firma,' Russell chuckled, but there was no malice in his words, only affectionate tolerance for his younger, rather harum-scarum brother.

  'There's one of the Club Moths in the distance now.' Wyn pointed to a dark speck in the sky that was the author of the continuous droning noise that assailed their ears. 'He said he was going flying this afternoon. He must have the same glorious view that we've got.' She gazed contentedly at the patchwork pattern of field and wood and water lying below them. ',I can see someone riding.' A flash of movement below them drew

  her eyes. 'Whoever it is has got a horse like Pendelico.'

  'There isn't another white one in the district, to my knowledge. It must be a newcomer.' Russell stopped playing with her hair, rolling and unrolling, the soft brown curls for the joy of seeing the wind fluff them up again, and raised himself lazily from his semi—

  recumbent position, leaning on his elbow. 'Where-

  abouts?' .he asked interestedly.

  'Going towards the level crossing.' Wyn pointed.

  'It's like Pendelico.' Russell narrowed his eyes, accustomed to gazing across long distances. 'It is Pendelico ' He sat up swiftly, tension in his face. 'And it's Diane riding him.' His voice was suddenly, coldly furious. 'That girl needs a sharp lesson,' he said grimly. 'It's time she realised she can't go on behaving like the spoilt little brat she's always been.'

  `She's a good rider, 'Wyn gave what comfort she could. 'She may not come to any harm.'

  'She's not good enough to ride Pendelico. She's not strong enough.' Anxiety took the place of fury in his voice as he continued to watch the racing figure of horse and rider below them. 'There's something wrong. Pendelico's fighting her ...' Even from this distance it was possible to see that something was amiss, and a cold feeling touched Wyn as she caught sight of a puff of smoke from further along the railway line.

  'There's a train coming, too.'

  'Come on, let's get down to the Land Rover.' He stooped swiftly and picked up his jacket. 'Let me have your scent bottles, I'll put them back in my pocket for safe keeping.' Even in his urgency he made sure her birthday present was safe.

  'It's too late to turn her.' Wyn held her breath as the

  goods train rattled closer, watched a minute rag doll of a figure appear at the window of the signal box waving frantic arms, and saw, incredibly, the horse and its rider rise over the first of the barrier poles across the level crossing, just in front of the train, then start to rise again, awkwardly, to the second one before the wildly hooting engine passed the spot and blocked their view.

  `The plane's spotted them, t
oo. It's coming down! ' Wyn suddenly became aware of the urgent roar of the Moth's engine above them, and heard it rattle into a throttle back as it went into a long glide towards the flat grassland below them.

  `Can you run?'

  `I'll manage.' She was already running beside him, helped along by his arm, firm about her to speed their passage down to the Land Rover.

  'Up you get!' Russell boosted her up into the passenger seat, jumped into his own and keyed the engine into urgent life, then he was spinning the wheel, backtracking round the base of the Barrow, and cutting diagonally across the long stretch of grassland that sloped gradually down to the level crossing.

  'There's another rider,' Wyn pointed slightly ahead, 'it looks like Corporal Benny.' She screwed her eyes up against the sun to follow the path of a big chestnut which was racing after the first rider.

  `We'll stop and pick him up.' Russell demanded speed from their transport that made Wyn thankful it was purpose-built to stand up to off-the-road travel. `I'll signal him, maybe he'll slow down.' Russell gave two sharp blasts on the horn, and the man riding the chestnut glanced back over his shoulder. Immediately

  he slackened speed, raising himself from his crouching position in the saddle. Within seconds he pulled his horse to a standstill and slipped to the ground, and stood waiting while they drew up beside him.

  'Jump in!' Russell jerked his head backwards, and the groom turned the 'horse round, knotted the reins up over its mane, and gave it a light spank.

  'It'll go back to the stable,' he said as it trotted off, back the way it had come. 'It'll wait for me there and I can see to it when I get back,' he added confidently.

  'What happened?' Desperate anxiety made Russell economical with words.

  'Miss Diane came into the stable yard and demhnded a ride.' The man's tone was as grim as his master's, and he made no pretence at misunderstanding what the latter meant. 'I was making a warm mash for the mare that had just foaled, and I asked her if she'd mind waiting a couple of minutes while I finished it. I wouldn't have kept her long,' his tone was hard, 'but she seemed in a bit of a mood. Beg pardon, sir, but you did ask ...'