The Ultimate Choice

by Emma Darcy

  Kelly smothered her disappointment with the hope that he would keep his nine o'clock appointment in her office tomorrow. Having seen how capable a horse-woman she was, perhaps he would be more reasonable about Rasputin.

  Arlene Moffat echoed the same opinion when Kelly related the latest developments over the Moffats' breakfast-table the next morning. The black stallion had performed like a dream for her, and Kelly's resolve not to part with him had been immeasurably hardened by the morning's ride.

  However, when Justin St John entered her office at five minutes to nine, he carried a distinctly unapproachable air with him.

  'Good morning,' he said, coolly polite. 'Same room?'

  'Yes,' said Kelly, choking up from his hard unrelenting manner. Why couldn't he smile, at her?

  It wasn't until he was on the table, ready for more treatment, that she screwed up the courage to speak again. 'Thank you for letting me have the horses back,' she rushed out.

  The grey eyes stabbed at her. 'I don't want your thanks. You know my feelings on the matter. It was simply the lesser of two evils,' he stated curtly.

  He didn't mention Rasputin.

  Kelly didn't either, deciding that discretion was the better part of valour on that sore point.

  He watched her ride again that afternoon… a dark, brooding figure leaning on the fence, waiting for her to have an accident. Kelly rode particularly well, controlling every move of her mount with exhilarating ease. She liked Justin St John watching her. It lent a marvellous sharpness to every moment.

  Eventually he would bend, she kept telling herself. He cared about her, just as she cared about him. She was certain of it.

  Judge Moffat's car was parked outside the house when she got home. It was chess night again. Kelly heard her grandfather's voice raised in umbrage as she crossed the veranda, and wondered what had upset him. She hurried into the kitchen where the two men were sitting over their supper.

  'What are you on about, Grandpa?' she asked. He had obviously worked himself up about something.

  'Kelly, I took the lambs up to Mrs Ryan this afternoon, just like I always do. She said Justin St John didn't want more than four each week any more. That he wanted some beef for a change.' His eyes almost smoked with outrage. 'I'm going to have to run beef-cattle with the sheep!'

  Kelly frowned. 'Maybe he doesn't understand the agreement, Grandpa,' she suggested in soft appeasement.

  'Herefords or Charolais or Santa Gertrudis…'

  'What if he develops a taste for chicken?' the judge put in with sympathetic concern. 'What are you going to do then?'

  'Chicken?' her grandfather squawked.

  'Or fish?' the judge added.

  It was the final straw! 'Henry Lloyd ate lamb for seventy-five years,' Michael O'Reilly thundered, if it was good enough for Henry Lloyd, it's good enough for Justin St John!'

  'Quite right,' the judge agreed. 'He's got to be taught to fit in. This is sheep country. Always has been. Always will be. He can't come in here changing things. We've got to stand up to him. Show him he's wrong!'

  'I'll have a word with him when he comes for his physiotherapy tomorrow, Grandpa,' Kelly offered. 'I'm sure he doesn't understand.'

  'You haven't got him to understand about Rasputin, Kelly,' the judge warned pessimistically, then switched his attention back to her grandfather. 'And talking about sheep, Michael, I've had a thought about Octavian Augustus the Fourth…'

  ‘It's clear that Justin St John doesn't really appreciate sheep,' Michael grumbled. 'Let's go into the living-room and set up the chess-board, Judge. I'm in a fighting mood tonight.'

  Kelly wondered if her grandfather remembered his intention to let the judge win this time, but she didn't get a chance to remind him. In fact, she was so tired after her long day that she went to bed before the chess match was over and didn't hear the final outcome that evening.

  However, when she had finished with Rasputin the next morning, Judge Moffat took great pride in telling her that he had swept her grandfather off the chess-board.

  Kelly wished it could be as easy to checkmate Justin St John.

  He arrived for his physiotherapy with the same stiff-necked reserve he had worn the previous day. Kelly decided she would not be put off or put down or put out again, no matter how he acted or what he said or how he made her feel. Nevertheless, she worked on her composure while he was on the interferential, and waited until she had started the resisted exercises before opening her account.

  'You've got my grandfather upset again, Justin. You're not keeping to the agreement.'

  He groaned.

  'Did I hurt you?' Kelly asked anxiously.

  'No. And I don't recall giving you permission to call me Justin,' he said peevishly.

  'You call me Kelly,' she argued. 'Why shouldn't I call you Justin?'

  He sighed. 'How have I upset your grandfather?'

  'You didn't take all the lambs you're supposed to,' she explained. 'Under the agreement…'

  'I'm sick to death of eating lamb!'

  'You don't have to eat it yourself. You could give it away. Or sell it to the butcher,' Kelly suggested brightly. 'But you've got to take them. Henry Lloyd used to…'

  'I am not Henry Lloyd!' He glared at her. 'And I'm sick to death of being told what Henry Lloyd used to do.'

  Kelly closed her mouth in thin-lipped disapproval. She glared back at Justin St John. The tension in the room thickened. He bent first.

  'All right! Tell me what Henry Lloyd used to do,' he said in weary disgust.

  'He used to pass the lamb on to his staff when he didn't need it for himself. The gardeners and…'

  'Fine! I'll pass it on.'

  Kelly heaved a sigh of satisfaction. 'I told Grandpa you'd understand. He was having visions of having to run cattle to cater for your taste. Herefords and…'

  'You can't mean it?' Justin levered himself up on his elbows with a look of sheer incredulity.

  'Well, what else could he do? If you wouldn't take the full complement of lambs according to the agreement…'

  'Never mind!' He shook his head and dropped down on to the table again. He breathed deeply for several seconds. 'Assure your grandfather that any agreement will be kept to the letter from now on.'

  'Thank you,' she said, even though he didn't like to be thanked. He should be more gracious about that, Kelly thought to herself. But she didn't want to criticise him too severely, because she had another favour to ask him.

  She waited until the exercises were completed and was spreading oil over his hip-joint in preparation for the ultrasound.

  ‘Is it all right if I take the horse-truck?' she asked, her eyes pleading her need. 'I can't transport the horses without it.'

  He closed his eyes against her and his jaw tightened as if he was clenching his teeth. 'You haven't brought back that damned stallion yet,' he bit out.

  Kelly took a deep breath. 'Would you let me ride him if I did?'

  'No!' It was a hard, explosive negative, leaving her no room to manoeuvre.

  'Well, that settles that,' she reasoned quietly. 'But if I'm to compete with the other horses, I can't get them to Dapto without the horse-truck.'

  'Kelly…' His voice sounded very strained. She felt his flesh quiver under her hand. 'Will you stop spreading that oil and get on with it?'

  'Oh!' Flustered by her hand's dalliance, Kelly snatched it away and grabbed for the ultrasound. She played the small machine over his muscles as she struggled to regain her composure.

  It wasn't easy. She was more aware of him than ever. It was even worse when she had to switch the ultrasound off and wipe the oil from his skin with the tissues. She felt quite sure he didn't want her to touch him.

  'You can get up now,' she choked out, and quickly turned away to dispose of the used tissues.

  Every pore in her body was listening for him to get off the table and walk to the chair where he had hung his trousers. Every nerve was stretched tight, waiting for a less discomfiting distance between th
em.

  His feet thudded softly on to the floor. The short ensuing silence pulsed with a tension that was not wholly hers. The urge to turn around and see what he was feeling was terribly strong. But he had called her a forward young woman, and even suggested she could be using her body to get what she wanted. If he thought she had been caressing him knowingly…

  There was a whispering sigh, and at last footsteps moving away. Kelly's chest hurt from holding her breath. She let it out slowly, desperately trying to regain some control of the situation.

  'You can take the truck. As long as you don't take Rasputin.'

  The flat words slapped Kelly's mind into refocusing on the problem of her favourite horse. She couldn't go without him. He was her best chance of winning the main event.

  Justin St John finished dressing and swung around, his eyes stabbing right into her heart and soul as he spoke with relentless decision. 'Promise me you won't slip him in along the way. Promise me that now, Kelly.'

  Slowly she shook her head. 'No! You're wrong about this. Terribly wrong. As you've been about so many other things.'

  His face contorted with angry frustration. 'Why do you have to be so stubborn? You're a beautiful young woman. With your whole life ahead of you. Why put it at risk?'

  'All life is a risk!' she retorted. 'And show- jumping is no more dangerous than playing polo. You did that, didn't you? And I bet if you could have gone on playing it after your accident, you would have done that too.'

  'But I couldn't. And I didn't.' His eyes glittered over her with intense bitterness. 'And I don't want to see the same thing happen to you.'

  Kelly flushed at the unwitting cruelty of her words. 'I'm sorry. It's just that…'

  'You think I'm unreasonable,' he mocked savagely. 'Well, let me tell you, Kelly Hanrahan, I was riding horses before you were born. And my sister was in show-jumping. I'm very familiar with all types of horses, and I've seen Rasputin's kind before.' His mouth twisted. 'Noni Lloyd had one just like him. A Hanoverian stallion. Bred for jumping. He'd rather crash into a fence than balk. One mistake from you, Kelly-cutting him too short to gain time, not getting him set into the right stride for a triple or a combination-and he'll go for it anyway. And he'll take you with him.'

  'You don't know Rasputin,' Kelly defended. 'He can adjust. Improvise. He's a natural. There's no other horse like him.'

  A bleak weariness settled in the grey eyes. 'Kelly, I can't stop you from show-jumping other owners' horses, but I can stop you from competing with mine. I don't want it to come to that. Please… reconsider. You can ride the other three if you must. But not Rasputin.'

  'You don't understand,' Kelly pleaded. 'I'll never find another like him. To ride Rasputin… it's like magic…'

  'Black magic!' he snapped impatiently. 'You're tempting the gods every time you mount that devil. Put an end to it before he puts an end to you. Make your mind up to that, Kelly. For your own sake!'

  There was no talking to him. She could see that. And he wouldn't even give her the chance to prove him wrong. While she was still floundering for a way to reach out to him, he pulled out his wallet, extracted a twenty-dollar note, and dropped it on the table.

  'Think about it!' he said harshly, and walked out.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kelly did think about what Justin St John had said.

  But he was wrong!

  She kept on riding the three horses each afternoon. He never missed watching her. It saddened Kelly that there was more than a fence dividing them. She wished that he could watch her with pleasure, that he could share the joy of it with her. But whatever compulsion drove him to watch through the whole practice session Kelly knew intuitively that it had more to do with his obsession about her safety than anything else.

  And every morning she wished he could see her on Rasputin as they soared over the jumps at the judge's place. She and Rasputin understood each other. The big stallion knew what he could do and so did she. What Justin St John was trying to force upon her was totally unfair.

  After much agonising over his ultimatum, Kelly came to the only decision that seemed right to her.

  ‘I thought you said you'd be away this week,' Justin remarked one morning as he was paying for his physiotherapy treatment. For the first time Kelly saw a hint of uncertainty in the probing grey eyes.

  ‘I have no way of taking all the horses, so I've had to cancel my entries to the minor events,' she said flatly.

  'Kelly…' He heaved a sigh of exasperation.

  She took a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. 'I won't lie to you, or go behind your back, Justin. The Dapto Grand Prix is scheduled for Saturday afternoon. It's a qualifying round of the Swan Premium Pacific League of the World Cup. Rasputin is entered and I'm taking him.'

  His face went grim.

  Kelly's heart sank to a new low. She tried to deliver her challenge with undaunted spirit, but tears wobbled in her eyes as she spoke the fateful words. 'I know you have the power to stop us from competing. But you could at least watch Rasputin in action first, before you take him away from me.'

  He shook his head, stared at her with pained eyes, then walked out, leaving her with no answer either way. Kelly didn't know what he would do. Perhaps he didn't know himself.

  She did not have the heart to ride that afternoon. Or the next. The contest of wills with Justin St John had drained her natural energy and, having limited herself to Rasputin for the Dapto Show, she concentrated solely on him.

  Justin St John made no comment on her decision, nor on her failure to exercise the other horses. She did not even see him on Friday. Roy Farley telephoned to cancel the appointment. No excuse was offered.

  She rose early on Saturday morning, not having slept well at all. Her grandfather insisted she eat a good breakfast, then waved her off with the admonishment, 'You can show him, Kelly!'

  ‘If he gives me the chance,' she replied with an unhappy grimace.

  'He would have told you by now if he was going to stop you,' her grandfather reasoned.

  Kelly tried to be optimistic as she drove to the judge's place. When she arrived there she was greeted by more good wishes and encouragement. Judge Moffat helped her load Rasputin into his horse-float, and Arlene insisted on giving her a picnic basket for lunch.

  The trip to Dapto passed without incident. The showground area set aside for the equestrians' use was heavily populated with horse-trucks and caravans. Being a latecomer, Kelly had to park where she could, which was a fair distance from the arena. Not that it mattered. She didn't really feel like being in the thick of things.

  Kelly spent what was left of the morning grooming Rasputin, plaiting his mane and using a comb and plastic template to pattern the glossy coat of his rump. She was not left alone for long. Other riders on the show-jumping circuit spotted her and came over to chat. She deflected any questions about her present situation and steered the conversations towards what had happened in the events she had missed.

  She did not see Justin St John.

  Two hours prior to the Grand Prix, she checked at the post entry office to make sure her entry was still valid. It was. She did a nervous scan of the stands, hoping, fearing, to see Justin seated somewhere among the spectators, but there was no one who looked anything like him.

  The ballot was drawn for the first-round Order of Go. Kelly and Rasputin were placed third to last to take the field. Kelly was quite pleased to be placed well down in the order. It gave her the opportunity to see how tough her competition would be on the day.

  She took Rasputin off for a ride around the grounds to settle him down. The excitement of having all the other horses around always made him jumpy. He seemed to sense a big event, and wanted to show off his supremacy.

  Kelly did her best to quell her own nerves too, but she could not help thinking this might be the last time she ever rode the great stallion. And, if it was to be a worthy swan-song, they had to win.

  She heard the announcement of the event over the loudspe
akers and returned to a vantage point from where she could watch the other riders in action. Her gaze flicked once more over the spectators in the stands, and her heart leapt into her mouth when she saw him climbing the steps to the main grandstand.

  He had come! He was going to watch!

  Kelly was barely conscious of what was happening in the arena. Horse followed horse. She had no idea who was doing well or how many had gone clear rounds. Her turn came.

  'Rasputin…ridden by Kelly Hanrahan,' boomed over the loudspeaker.

  She rode the black stallion to the starting position, her heart hammering with the need to show Justin how good Rasputin was, how good she was, how good they were together.

  And up in the grandstand, Justin St John shifted forward on the wooden bench seat, too tense to remain still. He felt sick to his stomach. He kept telling himself that Kelly was as fine a rider as he had ever seen, that it couldn't happen again… that she had the right to live her life how she wanted. But she looked so small on that great black horse, small and fragile, her body all too easily smashed.

  The announcer was reeling out Rasputin's recent achievements, sparking interest: 'An exciting horse… a great crowd-pleaser… very strong competitor…'

  Justin's hands clenched as Kelly was given the starting signal. He could hardly bear to watch as she urged the black stallion towards the first hurdle, yet he couldn't bear not to watch. His body half lifted with them, and he only breathed again when they took the jump cleanly.

  They flew over each set of rails, and took the spread fence in their stride. Rasputin pranced impatiently as Kelly set him for the combination, then soared over the double with consummate ease. He disposed of the next three fences with seemingly contemptuous arrogance, but Justin tensed again as they turned for the 'Liverpool Ditch'.

  Several horses and riders had come to grief at the Liverpool-a short white picket fence preceding the water and the fence behind it. There had been two quite nasty falls when horses had balked at the obstacle. If Rasputin acknowledged an obstacle at all, it was not discernible. He sailed over without the slightest hint of a falter.