Lure of the Falcon Read online

  'I want to know.' Russell cut short his apology and waved to him to continue.

  'Well, Miss Diane went off to the tack room, and I thought she'd gone to sort out her favourite saddle, so I took no notice when I saw her sling it in the back of her car and drive off to the paddock. I thought she was just impatient, and I'd follow her along and check her gear before she set off.'

  'Go on.' Russell's voice was sternly controlled.

  'Well, when I gets to the paddock, sir, Miss Diane had already got Pendelico kitted up.' The man's voice was incredulous. She was on the stallion's back, and he

  was rearing and backing up. 'Twas that as made me notice what she'd done.' He sounded more unhappy by the second as his tale unfolded, and Russell spoke without turning his head.

  'I'm not blaming you, Benny. Diane is responsible for her own impulsive actions.' He hesitated slightly. 'Whatever the outcome, it's not your fault,' he stressed. Even in his anxiety he could still be fair, and his man's face cleared miraculously.

  'Well, sir, she'd used an ordinary bridle and bit, instead of a hackamore. The Major never rides the stallion with anything but a bitless bridle,' he explained to Wyn. 'Pendelico had never had a bit in his mouth in his life. That's what made him try and back away from it,' he added.

  'I wonder he didn't buck her off.' Wyn marvelled at the girl's stupidity.

  'i would have been better for Miss Diane if he had, I reckons,' the groom said despondently. 'The horse tried his best, but in the end she used her crop on him. That's what made him take off at such a speed—why, there's Mr Val, he's taxiing up to the level crossing, look.' He caught sight of, the grounded plane for the first time.

  'He was above the signal box when Diane jumped the poles. She only just made it in front of the train, and Val must have seen what happened from the air.' Wyn filled in the background for him, hoping privately that Diane had indeed made it safely to the other side of the permanent way. The train had been almost on top of the horse and rider when they jumped, and must have been level with them when they rose to the pole on the far side. If, indeed, they had time to rise ... A shiver

  shook her, despite the warmth of the day.

  'Mr Tylar ! Mr Tylar ! ' The signalman gesticulated wildly to them from the window of his box, and whether he called to Russell or to Val seemed unimportant, as they both jumped down from their different modes of transport and raced the last few yards to the crossing.

  `Go round the train, sir. Round it!' The goods train had screeched to a jangling halt across the level crossing. 'No, t'other way, behind the guard's van,' the man shouted directions at them, better able to see from his elevated position where their quickest route lay. 'I've phoned for an ambulance, it's on its way,' he called down to Corporal Benny as they neared the box behind the others. The Corporal raised his one hand in response, and used the other to steady Wyn as she raced beside him, following Russell and Val round the back of the now silent wagons that Wyn saw with dismay were filled with a similar assortment of metalwork as the train they had encountered on their previous ride. It would have made the same hideous clanging noises that had contorted the stallion into circus antics even with Russell on his back. With Diane riding him ... Wyn shivered again.

  'Don't come any further, Miss Wyn. Go back to the Land Rover, do!' Corporal Benny begged her, his hand on her arm as they rounded the end of the guard's van and both instinctively stopped in their tracks, shocked into momentary immobility at the scene which confronted them.

  'I'll come with you.' Wyn spoke quietly, exhibiting a calm she was far from feeling, but which turned the groom's look of entreaty into one of respect as she

  forced herself forward. 'I'm qualified in first aid, I might be able to help.'

  'See to Pendelico, will you, please, Benny?' Russell raised a haggard face as he heard them coming. He and Val were kneeling on the ground a foot or two away from the second pole, one on each side of a silent jodhpur-clad figure that lay ominously still. 'I don't think there's much you can do, but ...' He broke off, looking away from them, and Wyn felt sick as she looked at his stallion. Its body, from where she stood, appeared to be unmarked.

  'It looks as if the train missed him. I suppose we've got that to be thankful for.' There was weary relief in the groom's voice, coupled with the flat finality of acceptance forced on him by the utter stillness of the stallion's prone form, with the long white neck, which must have felt the caress of its groom's hands almost as often as it felt its master's, lying at an awkward angle that told Win more clearly than words that it would never again bear aloft the proud head, to turn with flicking ear and a whinnied greeting whenever it heard the sound of Russell's step.

  Numbly, she stepped around Pendelico, tactfully turning her back on the groom, whose murmured 'Penny, Penny old lad,' as he knelt unbelieving on the ground beside his charge, bade fair to crack her own hard-won self-control. She dared not lose that, for Russell's sake.

  'Diane?' Her voice was hardly louder than the groom's, but it reached the two men. Val rose to his feet, and made way for her beside the girl.

  'She's breathing.' The boy's face was very white, but Wyn saw thankfully that he was calm. Val had already

  taken a long step towards growing up, and Wyn silently applauded the way in which he had risen to what must, have been his first real hurdle. No, not that ! Her mind cringed from her own description. Pendelico must have taken his first hurdle, over the level crossing pole, but the second one had brought about his downfall.

  `He was fighting her, every inch of the way, sir,' the crossing keeper told Russell, hovering in shirt-sleeved indecision -above them, and added, `I'd better get the goods train into a siding out of the way, so it won't hold up the express.' He pulled the necessary levers and let out a shout, which was acknowledged from the engine cab by a blue-denimed arm, and slowly the wagons clanked away from the level crossing, and after what seemed a long time the two red and white poles moved upwards, clearing the way.

  `It'll give the ambulance a straight run in.' His task accomplished, the signalman appeared at the box window -again. 'Why didn't she heed me, Mr Tylar?' he asked helplessly. 'I shouted to her not to risk it, with the train coming and all, and your horse being so scary of the noise as 'e was. I know she heard me, she looked up,' he remembered wretchedly.

  `The stallion probably bolted when he heard the noise of the trait.' Russell didn't sound too convinced even as he spoke, and the crossing keeper shook his head adamantly.

  `No, sir. The horse bucked and tried to back away from the line, he didn't want to get near. If anything, I'd say he wanted to bolt in the opposite direction, but the young lady, she cropped him something cruel and put him straight at the poles.' In spite of the circumstances his voice mirrored his disapproval of Diane's

  behaviour. 'It drove him over the first pole, but he jumped to one side, as if he was trying to keep as far away from the train as he could. By this time the engine driver had seen him, and he added to the din with his brakes and his whistle, trying to stop her from attempting to cross. Anyway, the horse landed between the lines instead of on the sleepers. He'd have had a smoother take-off from there. As it was he landed awkwardly, and took off the same, and I daren't raise the poles, there wasn't time. His only chance was to jump clear.'

  'He got to the other side,' the groom choked.

  'Aye, he did, but it was his own haste that was his undoing. He was frantic to get away from the train, and he didn't jump high enough. The pole caught him under the knees and tipped him head first over it ...' His voice trailed away, the grim evidence on the ground below his window eloquently finishing his sentence for him.

  'Here's the ambulance,' Val broke in quietly. 'Will you go with Diane, Russ, or would you like me to?'

  'You take your plane back to the Club, then cut straight on home and take over there, will you?' Some instinct made Russell lean on the younger man, whose shoulders straightened under the unaccustomed trust.

  'I'll let Mother know what's ha
ppened.' Briefly an uncertain note crept into Val's voice, then it strengthened again. 'Will you go back to the house with Benny, Wyn?'

  'When I've seen Diane into the ambulance.' The girl-had not stirred. Her face was as ashen as her hair, and Wyn sent up a silent prayer that her riding hat had saved her head from the worst. If not ... Sternly she pulled her thoughts to a halt. Time enough to wonder

  about the outcome when they knew just how badly she was injured.

  The ambulance men wasted no time once they drew up beside the crossing. With swift expertise they transferred the unconscious girl on to their stretcher, and slid it into the long vehicle while Russell and Wyn looked on.

  'Ring as soon as you know—anything,' Wyn gulped. 'Benny or Val will come in to town and fetch you back.'

  'I feel responsible.' Russell met her eyes, his own haunted, boring into her face with a kind of desperation that puzzled as well as distressed her.

  'It isn't your fault. How can you say that?' He had expressly forbidden Diane to ride Pendelico, she had been there when he told her not to.

  'I shouldn't have scolded her quite so harshly,' he harked back to the unpleasant-scene in the study that morning. 'I might have known she'd do something silly ...'

  'We're ready for off now, sir, if you're coming with us?' The brisk, professional voice of the orderly jerked Russell away from his thoughts.

  'Yes, I'm ready.' He gave Wyn a long, curiously despairing look, and turned away, and the ambulance door thudded shut with grim finality. He looked at me almost as if he was afraid he might forget my face, she thought, made uneasy by his manner.

  'Take Miss Wyn home, will you, Benny?' Val seemed to have gained new stature. 'I'll get in touch with the vet myself, and come out with him again here afterwards.' He raised the groom from beside the stallion, taking on his own shoulders a dreadful task in order to spare the man. 'You drive the Land Rover back—and

  mind how you go,' he paid keen heed to the groom's unashamedly wet face. 'Go back and look after the foal. Russell will need the little fellow more than ever, now.' He gave the man a lifeline that steadied his first stumbing steps away from his lifeless charge, and himself walked back with them to where the Land Rover was drawn up on the grass. 'Sure you're safe to drive?' Was it really Val's voice? Wyn looked at him curiously. The gay flippancy had vanished, and a new, strong timbre was resonant in his tone, that raised Benny's head and made his answer as forthright as the question.

  'I'm meself again now, sir: It was just—for the moment, like ...'

  'Then take it steady on the way back, and I'll be along soon after you.'

  They waited and watched while he taxied to a point where he could make a smooth take-off, and soon became a rapidly disappearing speck in the sky hastening towards the flying field.

  'Best leave breaking the news to Mr Val,' Benny advised as they turned into the stable yard. 'It sounds as if Mrs Tylar's in the knot garden.' Voices raised in childish merriment reached their ears and Wyn smiled slightly; it sounded as if the children were engaged in their favourite game of trying to puzzle a way out of the maze.

  'Go to them, will you, Wyn?' Val joined them a brief half hour later, that seemed like a lifetime to Wyn, who dreaded that Louise might bring the children to the stables to see the foal, and want an explanation of their sober faces. 'I'll tell Mother on her own.'

  'Take Nanny along as well,' Wyn suggested. Louise had more than enough strength of character of het

  own to withstand shocks, but Wyn guessed the motherly little nursemaid would resort to her panacea for all ills, a timely cup of tea, and one would be very welcome at such a time, she knew.

  `I've taken Benny one.' Twenty minutes later Nanny appeared in search of her. 'And I've left yours poured out on the tray in the drawing room. Go along and get it, now,' she shooed Wyn away. 'I'll stay here with the children.' She lowered her ample form on to the garden seat. 'You go on in and join the rest of the family,' she included Wyn among them, which gave her a quick warm glow which eased the tension a little that had remained with her since she returned to the Grange with Benny.

  `Come and join us, my dear. You must need this.' Louise's voice was strong and calm, her hand quite steady as she handed Wyn the welcome beverage. She sipped it gratefully, grimaced at the amount of sugar the children's nurse had stirred into it, deliberately she was sure.

  `Wyn was wonderful, while we were at the crossing. You've no idea ...' Relief at having accomplished his unpleasant task made Val incoherent.

  `I think I have,' his mother smiled, her kindly eyes searching Wyn's face. And reading—what? Wyn discovered she did not mind if she read her precious secret, although she remained silent; it was Russell's place to tell his family. Even so, she felt that the older woman had made a shrewd guess, and warmly, happily, that she approved. 'It's a sad end to your birthday,' Louise sympathised quietly. 'We'll have' to make your next—celebration,' she laid delicate emphasis on the word, 'a happier one.' She proffered her own birthday

  gift, and impulsively Wyn bent to kiss her, delighted with the tiny flask of perfume that, she was convinced, had been purchased specially to fuel the scent bottles Russell had given to her.

  'It's a shame to spoil your birthday, just the same.' With a flourish, Val produced one of the biggest boxes of chocolates Wyn had ever seen, and dropped it on to her lap. The box with its floral painted lid was a work of art in itself.

  'Oh, Val ! And after what you said ...' It was a magnificent gift by any standards, and from someone who had admitted being so hard up ... Wyn looked at him helplessly.

  'I had my allowance this morning,' he grinned happily. 'I've filled up Russell's petrol can again, as well,' he added naïvely, and Wyn chuckled, a small, gusty relief from strain that could not lift until they heard how Diane was faring, but helped just the same to keep up a pretence in front of the children and one another —that all must soon be well. And try to ignore, if only for the moment, the knowledge that they dared not remember, and could not forget, of the wanton destruction of a man's dream to satisfy a spoiled girl's pique.

  Was it only the one dream Diane had destroyed? Wyn wondered dully. Russell's face, drawn and strained even beyond what might have been expected by the shock of the accident, and the loss of his horse; returned to trouble her. Automatically she dabbed some of her new perfume on the pulse spots at her temples and throat; spots that had felt the ardent pressure of his lips, tingled with the remembered feel of them still. She sighed, and slipped her locket over her head. She would get a picture of Russell to put in it, she pro-

  mised herself, seeking comfort from the small commitment as she finished her toilet in readiness for dinner. And afterwards, she would transfer her birthday perfume to the lovely little blue glass bottles he had given to her. She fingered them lovingly, twisting and untwisting their delicate corkscrew tops until another thought stilled her nervous hands.

  'I feel responsible,' Russell had said. A small, cold finger touched her heart at the memory. If he felt responsible for what Diane had done, how far would this feeling take him with Diane herself? What if her injuries were severe—perhaps sufficient to cause permanent disablement? The way he had looked at Wyn, as if he was trying to imprint every detail of her face on his memory, suddenly did not seem so strange to her. If Diane should be disabled, would Russell feel obliged to support her because of his sense of responsibility—even to marry her? And spend the rest of his life looking after a woman whom Wyn knew, now, he did not love?

  CHAPTER NINE

  `She's still unconscious.'

  Russell's voice sounded flat and drained of emotion when he rang at about ten o'clock. The evening seemed to stretch interminably to Wyn. They all picked at a dinner none of them really wanted, but each felt they had to eat for appearances' sake. Even Val's normal exuberance was not proof against the journey he had made with the vet back to the level crossing to arrange for the removal of the stallion's body, and he alternated between periods of gloomy silence and restle
ss prowling round the room that eventually earned him a sharp reproof from Louise.

  'For goodness' sake, Val, if you can't sit still why don't you take the car and go into town to collect Russell? I imagine he'll be ready to come home soon, there'll be no point in him remaining at the hospital all night. It'll save him another hour of waiting if you're already there.'

  'A good idea!' Val jumped up, patently glad to do anything but wait in soul-destroying inactivity that was playing on his nerves as much as the others.

  'Russell said he'd ring,' Wyn began doubtfully, and spun round as the telephone bell set up a shrill alarum, as if it had heard her speak. Val grabbed it eagerly, and Wyn saw his face fall.

  'Oh—oh, in that case I won't come in. He'd like a word with you, Wyn.' He held out the receiver to her,

  and wandered disconsolately back to his chair.

  `How's Diane?' She forced the words out, afraid of his answer, and her heart sank when it came.

  `Her parents are here as well.' He sounded unutterably weary. 'I'll stay with them, Wyn. It's the least I can do. The doctors say it might be hours before she comes round, and they won't be able to tell us much until she does. If she does ...' She hardly caught the last words, they were so faint. It was as if he was voicing his fears to himself, rather than talking to her.

  `You mustn't blame yourself, Russell. You mustn't let them blame you ' She felt a moment of wild impatience with the telephone. Why was the instrument so useless at conveying her real feelings? Her voice probably sounded as flat and unconvincing to Russell as his did to her. If only she was there with him, she would manage to convince him; if only she could reach out and put her arms about him, press her lips on his as she had done when they were on the top of Tylar Barrow, together, she could tell him he was wrong to blame himself, and he might listen. She should have gone with him ...