So what about her other neighbors, the ones who were a bit less—local? She frowned and stopped, taking another long look at the strange chestnut. In Aeritan, horses were no pam pered luxury. She had never seen one treated as badly as this one, however. For instance, Crae had been good with horses. He hadn’t coddled Briar, and granted, the poor creature had been shot out from underneath him, but he had been a good man with that horse.
She knew one way to find out. She slid a hand down the horse’s foreleg, leaning slightly against his shoulder. Obediently he lifted his leg when she came to his hoof. She took one look at the crudely made horseshoe, so clearly not a modern model, and set his foot down again.
“Shoot,” she said again.
Either someone was making hand-forged, piece-of-crap horseshoes in some sort of weird bid for authenticity—
Or the gordath was open again.
The sound of a car coming up the drive made her turn around. She didn’t recognize the car, a dark green Jaguar; had one of her clients gotten a new one?
The Jag parked in a cloud of dust, and a man got out. He was middle-aged, balding, wearing a polo and khaki slacks. It took her a moment, and then she placed him. What was Mike Garson doing here? He was the owner of the Continental, the restaurant and bar that the riders, owners, and grooms all hung out at. He had been Mark Ballard’s boss. Lynn grimaced. The less she had to think of Mark Ballard, the better. She looked at the skinny starved chestnut and pinched the bridge of her nose. Garson came over to her. He glanced at the horse, who was clearly not a show horse, and a look of distaste crossed his face before he pasted on a smile and held out his hand.
“Well, Lynn Romano,” he said. “Just the person I wanted to see. Mike Garson. I don’t know that we’ve met before, though I know you from your patronage of my little restaurant.”
She reached out and took his hand with his artificially strong handshake, and said, “Mr. Garson.”
“Oh, call me Mike. I don’t have much use for formality. You know, Mark Ballard used to talk about you all the time. He was quite taken with you, you know.”
Enough that he tried to have me killed so as not to ruin your little gunrunning scheme. Perhaps some of that crossed her face, because Garson stepped back. The horse, too, caught the tension and threw up his head and snorted.
“I need to get him to the barn,” Lynn said shortly.
“Fine, fine, I’ll just wait at the house.”
Actually, why don’t you just leave. She clucked to the horse and left Garson behind, hoping he got the message.
She didn’t have enough grooms to run the farm the way Mrs. Hunt had run it, when Lynn was barn manager, so she brought the chestnut gelding into the stall for new horses, an isolated loose box in the far corner of the lower barn. She would have Dr. Cotter come and vet him out and also do a Coggins test . . . Damn strays, she thought. She pulled apart a fresh bale of hay and gave him a flake and put fresh water in the bucket. The horse took a long drink, Lynn watching to make sure she wouldn’t have to pull away the bucket before he made himself sick. But he only took a few swallows and then, his muzzle dripping, nudged Lynn as if to say thanks. She shook her head and scrubbed him under his long, tangled forelock that hid his eyes.
“Red, you are lucky I have a soft spot for strays.” Counting Joe’s mom, this was her second one in a week. She hadn’t ever had the opportunity to indulge that side of her character before, but given the chance, she clearly took to it. And she thought Joe’s mom could be dangerous. If the horse was a sign that the portal was open, they could all be in trouble again. What’s going on, Joe?
The horse dropped his head and went to work on the hay. Lynn watched him for a minute, then closed the bottom door and went up to find out what Garson wanted. Heading back to the house, she felt a spark of anger. Garson was nowhere in sight, the front door just swinging shut. He had let himself into the house. Anger deepened into fury. Well, she would set him straight about that. Then he came back out, almost stumbling. Mrs. Felz came right behind him.
“Why don’t you have a seat on the veranda? Lynn will be right there, and I’ll bring y’all some iced tea.” Her voice was gracious and warm, but it was made of steel. Lynn bit back a grin.
“I see you’ve met Mrs. Felz,” she said. She glanced at Joe’s mom and raised her eyebrow in surprise. Mrs. Felz winked and then gave a public smile to Garson.
Garson looked between the two women, trying to figure things out. He could hardly demand to know more about Mrs. Felz, but he had to know something was up. Lynn hadn’t said what she was, only who she was. Mrs. Felz wasn’t dressed for housework. She wore jeans, sneakers, and a big floppy straw hat, as if she had been gardening. Which she had been, in fact. For the last few days, she had been taking care of the flowers in the tubs and beds all over the farm.
Garson looked back at Lynn, forcing a smile. “Well,” he said. “Iced tea. How—southern.”
“Yes,” she said and sat. He sat opposite her.
“I’m glad you found some help, though of course, you know, it can be difficult to run a big place like this. Katherine was very capable, and I know she left the farm in capable hands.”
Katherine. Garson knew all of the owners, of course, but that seemed oddly familiar. Did Mrs. Hunt know they were on a first-name basis? Lynn waited.
“But of course it’s so much for a young, single woman to take care of. I’m not sure what she meant by it. Surely she couldn’t have wanted to saddle you with all of this.”
He smiled meaningfully at his own pun. Lynn was struck by a sense of disaster.
Mrs. Felz popped out with tall glasses of amber tea, topped with lemons and rattling with ice. She set the tray down with a bright smile.
“Homemade,” she said.
Instant, Lynn knew. It was all she had in the house.
“Thank you,” she said, slightly strangled. Whatever Mrs. Felz was doing, it had her almost as baffled as Garson. She sipped her tea. Instant tea or no, it was still good, sweet, slightly acrid. A taste lingered almost veshlike on her tongue. For a second she forgot Garson’s presence, even Joe’s mom, and Aeritan came to her as powerfully as a kiss.
“So, I thought I would ask how you were doing and see if you needed any help.”
She came back to this world with a thud.
“Help?”
“Lynn, let me be frank. I’m a businessman. In fact, the restaurant business is probably tougher than the horse farm business. I know that you’ve lost clients and boarders due to last year’s troubles. I think everyone would understand if you needed to let the place go. Now, I’m not here asking to buy it right away. I just want you to consider the possibility, so you won’t feel trapped and maybe make a hasty decision. The fact is, this place is a lot of work, but it’s worth a whole lot more than you think. I think you could make a tidy sum—”
She felt the fury rise from somewhere inside her, and for a moment she couldn’t speak. When she could finally reply, she said only, “I think you are being presumptuous, Mr. Garson.”
“Now, Lynn—”
“I’m wondering what makes you think the farm is in trouble?”
He paused, took a sip of tea. When he spoke again, his smile was avuncular. “I’m sorry. I think I started off on the wrong foot. That’s me; my directness always gets me in trouble, or so my wife says. I don’t mean to imply that you are unable to run your own business.”
“I’m not interested in selling.”
“No, of course. But you see, things can turn so quickly. I understand this. And as I said, I want to make sure you don’t act in a panic but consider all your options.”
“To sell to you,” she said.
He nodded judiciously, as if accepting the possibility, now that she mentioned it. “That would be one option, yes.”
Lynn kept her voice from shaking with a force of will she didn’t know she had.
“I won’t do business with anyone who has ever hired Mark Ballard.”
She sil
enced him. He stared at her, openmouthed, gasping a little. His teeth were crooked and nicotine-stained, she thought with a mean sense of satisfaction. When he spoke, his anger rivaled her own. He still tried to control it. “I’m offering you a lifeline and a business opportunity. Just because you had a bad breakup—” He broke off, laughed, all pretense at civility gone. “Seriously, young lady, is this about the one who got away?”
No, it’s about the man who wanted to have me killed because he was in a business deal with you.
“I don’t need your lifeline,” she said evenly. “I don’t need your business opportunity. I just want to run my horse farm.” A thought struck her. “And if I find out that you are behind any attempt to make it hard for me to stay in business, I’ll let everyone know about this conversation. You made your offer. It was turned down. Out.”
He slammed down his drink, and the tea slopped over the side of the glass onto the table. “I didn’t think you were stupid, Ms. Romano. I suppose you just have a lot to learn about business. Enjoy your education.”
Mrs. Felz came out of the kitchen and sat down with Lynn as Garson stamped off to the Jag and drove off in a cloud of dust. Mrs. Felz shook her head.
“Some things never change,” she said.
“What?” Lynn said.
“Honey, that conversation is the same one rich men have had with farmers since farming began,” she said.
Lynn gave a half laugh. She was a farmer now, eh? Hard to believe. Land was a blessing and a curse. She gazed out over the farm from the shady porch, half of her mind far away. The green fields, the fences, the horses grazing lazily, all the peace of it came over her. She couldn’t sell, not to Garson, not to anyone. She was a guardian now, for what that was worth. Just like Joe in Aeritan, both of them keeping the land safe and sound. It wasn’t easy, but it was worthwhile. Only now, if the chestnut gelding was any indication, Joe wasn’t doing his part of the job. Lynn twirled the empty glass between her fingers, the condensation cold against her fingertips. She didn’t want to fret in front of Mrs. Felz, but the question of the red horse niggled at her. Maybe I was wrong about the horseshoes, she thought hopefully, but she knew she wasn’t.
“If Joe were here, you two could keep the place together,” Mrs. Felz said wistfully. Startled, Lynn looked over at her. The woman made a self-deprecating face. “Don’t mind me. I’m just an old woman living in her dreams. I always hoped Joe would get married someday, but I know he wasn’t the marrying type.” She shook her head.
Truer words were never spoken. Hunter’s Chase had probably been the longest Joe had been anywhere in the past few years. She wondered if he missed it. Now that he was a guardian and tied to the woods, would he miss the open road? Does he miss me the way I miss him?
“I think—if he ever finds what he’s looking for, he might settle down,” Lynn said carefully. Not with her, and not where she would see him again, but he might find someone—a smallholder perhaps, or a strongholder. He deserved that. Let him go, she told herself. Let him go.
Mrs. Felz rested her head against the back of the chair. “I suppose I have to go back,” she said abruptly. “If only to tell Abel I didn’t find anything.” She sighed. “He made it clear he didn’t expect me to. Anyway, I know you don’t want me here, and you’ve been kind enough to let me stay, but I’ve outstayed my welcome, I can tell.” She forestalled Lynn’s protest. “I only want a few more days, just until I can figure out where to look next. Then I’ll go, and I promise I won’t bother you anymore.”
“All right,” Lynn said, trying to hide her worry. Mrs. Felz would be gone soon. She hadn’t found out anything so far, and she would give up soon and go. Right now, though, Mrs. Felz was the least of her problems. After all, she was just a mother trying to trace her lost son and find out the truth behind his disappearance. Lynn had a hostile businessman and an open gordath to worry about. At least it will take my mind off the bills, she thought dryly. She pulled out her phone to call the vet to look over the new horse, trying to figure out what to do about the portal being open and what that implied. She told herself that Joe and Arrim would get it back under control. In the meantime, though, she thought she should go out to the old house on Daw Road and check on things, no matter how dangerous that could be. The last thing she needed right now was to end up back in Aeritan.
Even if Joe was there. And Crae. No, much better to stay here.
Kate and Colar pulled off the road and in to the gas station at the intersection where she had seen Marthen. The streets here were busy, the major route leading to Connecticut, the cross street almost as busy. Along one side of the road was a small shopping center. The place where Kate had seen the general was a stand of woods fronting a residential area.
They parked at the back of the gas station and looked around. It was hot, the road and parking lot radiating midday heat. Colar was the first to put on his sunglasses, and Kate fumbled for hers. She glanced at him and felt the usual shock; in T-shirt and board shorts and sandals, he looked like everyone else.
Well, and so do I now, she thought. She wore a tank top over a lace cami that covered most of the scars on her back and a denim miniskirt. Her hair was held up in a ponytail, the brown and gold highlights gleaming. Only the scars on her shoulders and back said she was anything different from her outside appearance. She nodded at the stand of trees.
“He was right there,” she said. “Kind of in the shadows.”
Colar nodded. “They’d be longer at that time of day. Let’s ask inside.”
He followed her in, and the door beeped at them as they entered. An Asian man looked up from the counter as a few shoppers collected soda, chips, and cigarettes.
Kate hesitated, smiled at the counter guy, and went to the back.
“What are you doing?” Colar whispered.
“We should buy something. Plus I want people to leave.”
He looked dubious, but they each picked out a soda and went back to the front. While they waited to pay for their drinks, a few more people breezed in. Kate’s heart sank. One was Maddy Street, a girl from school, with another girl she didn’t know well.
“Oh, hi,” Maddy said, brightening when she saw them. “What are you guys doing?”
They held up their drinks in unison.
“Cool. Sarah and I are going to the lake. A lot of kids are going to be there. You should come.” As she said it, she looked mostly at Colar. The other girl looked at Kate and said, “Hi. We used to go to middle school together?”
“I remember you,” Kate said. Sarah Decker. “Hi. Where do you go now?”
“Chatham.” It was a very posh private school. “Are you still into horses?”
Kate nodded. The line moved up. Maddy continued to chat up Colar, who was smiling at something she said. Maddy was animated and flirtatious, and Kate felt a sharp pang of jealousy. He’s my foster brother, that’s all. Just my foster brother. “You were, too, right?”
“Yeah, some. I outgrew it though.” The girl heard what she said and half laughed. “Oh my God, I am so sorry about how that came out.”
Kate had to laugh. “No, it’s okay. I probably should have outgrown it, too.” She shrugged and automatically lifted a loose strap back onto her shoulder. Colar was at the counter and paid for the drinks, handling the money with aplomb. She saw Sarah looking at her scars, but the girl didn’t comment. Then Maddy saw and gasped.
“What happened to you!”
“Bad—car accident,” Kate managed. She flushed. Should have worn a T-shirt, she thought.
There was an awkward silence. Then Maddy hurried to pay for their supplies, and she and Sarah fled, probably too uncomfortable to wonder why Kate and Colar stayed back. “Okay, see you, try to come to the lake,” Maddy called out as they headed out the door.
The counter guy was looking at them, this time a quizzical expression on his face. Kate took a breath.
“Hi. We were wondering if you saw someone here the other night, around four or five p.m.? He’d be d
ressed really weird.”
“Like in these clothes,” Colar said. He opened his phone and showed the man a picture of his clothes from home—heavy boots, half jacket, leather and mail armor—laid out on his bed. He had taken it that morning. The clothes were still stained with his blood, but you couldn’t tell that from the picture.
The man nodded. “Like a Renaissance festival actor,” he said, his accent thick but not impenetrable.
“Exactly,” Kate said. The man scrutinized the photo, and she added hastily, “Those are just the type of clothes; his were a little different. They were more ragged.” She hadn’t gotten a close look, but Marthen had seemed much the worse for wear since she had known him as the meticulous, obsessive general. She added, “This guy would be in his forties, and he has long black hair.”
The man pursed his lips and shook his head slowly. He handed back the phone. “Sorry.”
“Okay, well, thanks.” She and Colar turned to go.
“But if I see him, you want me to call you and let you know?”
They looked at each other. Colar spoke first. “Yes. That would be well.”
He did that sometimes; the Aeritan in him came out in his words. The Asian man heard and made a face. To him it would sound archaic or a put-on. He probably was already regretting helping a pair of snotty high school kids. Oblivious, Colar gave the man his number, and they hastened out.
“Have fun at the lake!” the man called out behind them.
“So what now?” Kate asked.
“We’re not done. We need to look around.” They went around back to the Jeep, but instead of getting in, they crossed the road to the stand of trees, scurrying to beat the traffic. The temperature immediately plunged. The trees were pines, dark and green, brown needles a thick carpet underfoot. Colar held her back and scanned without stepping onto the area. Cars whizzed past them. Through the trees she could see a neighborhood of big houses fronting an algae-coated pond. Just some guy, she thought. Just some guy, and now my dad thinks I’m crazy and I need to see a therapist.
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