01 Do You Believe in Magic - The Children of Merlin

by Susan Squires

  Maggie was outraged. Then she got quiet. “Why do you care?”

  “My brother brought you home. He doesn’t do that with the usual trash he collects.”

  The usual trash? “I brought him home, as you recall.”

  “But once you saw the place you decided to extend your stay.”

  “If we weren’t on a freeway, I’d stop the truck and make you walk,” she hissed. “What kind of a thing is that to say?”

  “When you have a family like mine, you learn to watch for the signs. I care about my brother, Miss O’Brian. In spite of his vast experience, he isn’t very sophisticated when it comes to women. Especially the ones drawn by the cachet of his business.”

  “Cachet? He’s got a body shop.” She tried to put scorn in her voice. But she respected Tris for trying to make his own way. Still, she wanted to know just how Tris managed to date starlets. “Dated” being another word for “screwed.” Was it because of his business somehow?

  “He does high-end work for Hollywood types and the rebellious progeny of the zillionaire set. And Jay Leno, of course.” Kemble sounded disgusted. “That’s what I hear anyway. Luckily Mother doesn’t do her own grocery shopping, so she doesn’t see tabloids.”

  Actually, Maggie could understand Kemble trying to protect his mother from stories about Tris and the robot movie girl.

  “After the first sightings with prominent starlets, the tabloids printed that he was one of seven heirs to an industrial empire. Then the harpies really came out of the woodwork. Bad boy fixes hot rods and will inherit billions. Good thing he’s such an expert at walking away.”

  Billion? With a B? Oh, that was not comforting on so many levels. “Well, let me set your mind at rest. I am not after Tris or his future inheritance. He needed a ride. I was coming to LA. End of story. I’m going home to my mortgaged spread and take care of my alcoholic father for as long as I can stand to do it, and I’m going to be in Denver in three weeks rodeoing for that purse I need. So don’t worry about your little brother. He’s safe from my schemes. You’ll have to deal with the Hollywood trash separately but I’m sure you’re up to that.”

  He started to say something, but she cut him off.

  “We’re done talking, Mr. Tremaine. I’m not putting you out of the truck because your family is very nice but I don’t have to take any more insults. Silence would be good about now.”

  This trip was worse than sitting next to Tris for ten hours yesterday by a long shot.

  *****

  Tris fumed all the way to Anaheim Hills. Drew wasn’t happy either. At least Tris gathered that from her muttered comments about proposing legislation that horse trailers be disallowed on freeways if they couldn’t go at least seventy miles an hour and about the general lameness of hybrid vehicles. The rest of the Brood was in fine fettle. So much so Tris had to call a halt to an incipient rendition of “Ninety-nine Bottles of Beer” accompanied by Lanyon’s flute if he wanted a shred of sanity left by the time they reached the camp.

  The fact that Kemble would have an hour alone in the truck with Maggie to charm her with his Harvard sophistication was ... well, it made Tris want to hit something. Too bad his brother wasn’t available. Of course Kemble was attracted to Maggie. Who wouldn’t be? Her direct ways and down-to-earth approach to life must be refreshing after the kind of social flutterers Kemble always seemed to end up with. Maggie must seem like life itself.

  She does to me.

  He was so anxious he couldn’t even take a minute to be afraid of what that thought really meant. What would he do if she preferred Kemble? And what woman wouldn’t prefer the Prince of Wales to the little mechanic boy who wore ragged jeans and had tats? He should have made Maggie deliver her horses yesterday and taken a cab from Anaheim Hills home. Then she’d never have met Kemble. He could have camped out on Elroy’s porch later until she came home, or met her in Denver at the rodeo—anything to keep her away from Kemble.

  But then you wouldn’t have had last night.

  And he wouldn’t have given that up for anything. He wanted more of Maggie. The mere thought of what might happen tonight had him hot and bothered.

  If she still wanted Tris when she could have Kemble....

  Camp Atchatawanee was nestled in a little canyon up behind the planned housing developments of Anaheim Hills. The main road was shaded by dozens of Brazilian pepper trees, their graceful trailing branches and fine leaves moving in a light breeze. The facilities seemed to consist of several barns, a couple of lighted rings, an office building which had signs for restrooms, and a series of turnout corrals populated by horses ambling around or lipping flakes of hay. Tris recognized several mustangs, but these were sleek and shiny. He wondered if they were Maggie’s haul from the last year’s sale. The buildings weren’t flashy. The place had been here for years, that was obvious. But the fences were whitewashed and the barns kept in repair. The parking lot was full of cars, and in one ring seven horses were being led around by attendants, as they carried kids of various ages and disabilities. One girl had an amputated leg. He recognized a couple of faces that said “Down syndrome.” With others he wasn’t quite sure what the problem might be. The only thing they had in common was their big grins. Parents lined the railing and applauded as the horses broke into a slow trot, their attendants running beside them.

  He still couldn’t believe Maggie’s mustangs of the plunging hooves, which had never been ridden, belonged in this camp. Was he about to see some horrible disaster? Remember Indian River, he chided himself. You didn’t believe she knew what she was doing then either.

  Maggie seemed to know where she was going at least. She pulled down a lane between the corrals barely wide enough for her trailer. Drew followed as Tammy exclaimed about the horses, the kids, the footing in the ring. Lanyon’s flute started cycling through every piece of western music he knew, from the old Paladin TV show theme to the movie music of A Fistful of Dollars.

  A capable-looking lady in jeans, tee shirt, and denim vest came striding out from one of the barns, grinning and holding out her hand as Maggie got out of the truck. She had short, steel-gray hair and a face whose lines said she’d spent a lifetime in the sun.

  “Maggie O’Brian,” she said. “Some guy called to tell us you’d been delayed. No trouble I hope?” She clapped Maggie on the back. As Tris clambered out of the passenger seat of the Highlander, the Brood emerged from the back.

  “Ginny, so good to see you again,” Maggie returned. “Sorry about the delay. I, uh, ended up with a passenger I had to drop over in Palos Verdes.”

  Ginny’s eyes rose to the crowd of Tremaines. Her smile made her eyes crinkle almost closed. “I see you brought friends.”

  “Uh, Ginny Mason, this is the Tremaine family. Kemble.” Kemble held out his hand. Did he have to be wearing loafers? It made them look like rich slackers.

  “I’m Tammy.” Tammy the Irrepressible surged forward. “What a cool facility you have.”

  “And you’re a rider, I see,” Ginny laughed, noting the English breeches and boots.

  “Well, not like Maggie, but I’m learning.”

  “We all start somewhere.” She glanced around to the others and Maggie made the introductions. “Well, what did you bring us?”

  “Got four real good ones for you. They’re going to be great with the kids.”

  “Let’s get them out and take a look.” Ginny looked around. “Where are the hands when you need them?”

  “I can help unload,” Tris said gruffly. At least he knew that was one thing Kemble would never sign up for. But he’d forgotten his cast.

  “You look like a personal injury suit waiting to happen,” Ginny said. “No offense.”

  Tris flushed.

  “I’ll help unload. I trailer Caliburn all the time. Devin knows how, too.” Tammy corralled Devin and the two of them went to work.

  “I wouldn’t have thought disabled children would be able to ride like that,” Kemble said. He’d been watching the ring as Maggie
’s mustangs backed down the ramp. “What made you think of starting a camp like this?”

  “Children and animals have a connection,” Ginny said, as she looked over the horse Maggie called Buck. “Caring for an animal gives them a sense of responsibility. Learning to ride tells them they can do anything if they put their mind to it. It can change their lives.”

  To Tris’s surprise Kemble didn’t deride such simple faith. He just looked thoughtful.

  Maggie handed her lead rope to Drew and went from horse to horse, touching them softly, murmuring about their new life, and directing their attention to the riding ring with the kids. “They should be good to go, Ginny. You can put them in your regular lineup.”

  “I’ll ride them first, just to be sure,” Ginny said.

  “Oh, ye of little faith,” Maggie chuckled. “Have I ever brought horses that weren’t kid-ready?”

  “No.” Ginny grinned. “But I’ve got to show the parents I’m indispensable, don’t I? Felipé,” she called to a Hispanic guy in his mid-twenties. “There you are. Can you have the guys take our newcomers out to the big turnouts?”

  “Si, Señora.” He got on a walkie-talkie, and soon the mustangs were being led away.

  “Can I offer you some coffee? Soda?” Ginny asked.

  But before anyone could politely decline, a thunderous series of thuds came from the bigger barn, immediately joined by the shrill shrieking of a terrified animal in pain.

  Ginny was off at a run with Maggie right behind her. “Sounds like a horse is cast.”

  Tris limped after them as fast as he could with his damned splinted leg. The others passed him on the way in to see what had happened. Felipé and another guy appeared at the far end of the barn. The shrieking and thuds continued nonstop.

  “Damn it,” he heard Ginny swear from where she hung over a stall door. “He’s got a foot hooked under the waterer.”

  Tris smelled blood. What the hell had happened?

  “I’ll go in and try to get him turned,” Felipé said. He’d pushed in through the Tremaines to stand beside Ginny and Maggie.

  “You will not,” Ginny shouted over the noise. The wall of the stall was quivering under tremendous blows from inside. “We’ve got to let him wear himself out.”

  Tris herded Tammy and the kids to the back, signaling to Drew to take them in hand. Whatever was in there, he didn’t want them to see.

  “You can’t wait. He’s cutting his leg to ribbons on the waterer.” Maggie wasn’t shouting, but somehow her words just cut right through the other noise.

  Now Tris could see over the women’s heads into the stall. A horse was on its back, right up against the wall so it couldn’t roll over to get up. It was thrashing wildly, banging hooves against the wall, its eyes rimmed white with fear and pain. One rear hoof was mashed up under the triangular struts of the waterer. One strut had broken and now gouged into its leg repeatedly.

  Tammy started to cry. Drew grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.

  “I can’t have anyone hurt,” Ginny shouted.

  “Señora, we must do something,” Felipé pleaded.

  “I’ll take care of this,” Maggie almost whispered, yet Tris still heard her clearly.

  “You’re not going in there,” he said through gritted teeth. She didn’t answer. He saw her go still, the way she had at the mustang rescue ranch. She took two deep breaths.

  Suddenly calm washed over Tris like a wave. Every muscle he’d been tensing relaxed. All sound seemed muffled, as though he were submerged in warm bathwater. And nothing was urgent. It would all be okay. The horse would be fine. Maggie didn’t want Kemble. Tris would work it out with his family. He’d work it out with Maggie. And it felt good. So good that his eyes began to droop in relief. He sagged against the wood of the barn wall. From somewhere far away, he saw Ginny and Felipé doing the same. And look, Tammy had stopped crying. That was good. Drew was slit-eyed and slack-mouthed, holding Tammy up, and Kemble ... Kemble looked like a sleepy puppy. That made Tris want to smile. Devin and Kee abruptly sank to the dirt floor of the barn aisle. Lanyon dropped like a rock beside them. He was dead asleep.

  Maggie looked around, appalled. She seemed unaffected. “Are... are you okay?”

  He gave her what some part of him knew was a loopy grin and nodded. “Great.”

  “Oh... oh dear!” She shook her head anxiously. But then she glanced back into the stall. “Okay,” she said firmly. Tris heard her from a long way away. She opened the stall door.

  “You shouldn’t go in there,” he managed.

  “I’ll be fine.”

  And she would. Things would all be fine. The horse had quieted, its breathing deep and regular, its eyes blinking slowly. She bent the bloody leg and got it out from under the waterer. Then she grasped the far side legs and pulled the horse over on its side toward her. It lay there breathing deeply, calmly. Just like me, Tris thought. That’s good.

  For a long minute they all stood there, or sat or lay as the case might be. Maggie let herself out of the stall. She came over to Tris, looking apologetic. He blinked. Had she just gone into the stall with a horse crazy with pain and kicking out? Was she a lunatic?

  Around the circle, others had started to blink back into reality too.

  “Wow,” Ginny said.

  That pretty well summed it up.

  “That was... interesting.” This from Kemble, who no longer looked like a sleepy puppy. He exchanged a piercing stare with Drew.

  Then Drew turned to Tammy. “You okay, hon?”

  “Yeah. I’m fine. What was that? I felt so... so relaxed there for a minute.”

  “Well, uh, never mind,” Maggie said, as Kee, Devin, and Lanyon stood and dusted themselves off. “It’s all good, right? The horse is free.” Behind her, the horse scrambled to its feet, nickering in confusion. “Ginny, better get a vet.”

  Tris was back from wherever he’d been for a minute. “Are you crazy going into the stall with that animal?” he yelled. “You could have been killed!”

  “It was fine.” Maggie’s clipped tone said she didn’t want to hear any more about it. Ginny took off at a run for the office. Felipé went into the stall, making his bandana into a pad to hold over the wound. Maggie pushed past the Tremaines and ran to her trailer.

  While Drew checked all the kids, Kemble ambled up to Tris. “She do that a lot?”

  “Maggie? Do what?”

  “That... whatever it was. We all felt it.”

  “No. She’s some kind of a horse whisperer, that’s all.” But then the realization hit him. She’d calmed him once too, when he was hurt just like that horse in there. That was how she got him to the ER in Reno. Only she’d had to touch him. God, how she’d touched him. He pushed that thought away. Today, she hadn’t needed to even touch that horse, and whatever it was she was doing to it, they’d all gotten a dose.

  “She’s just good with horses,” he repeated. He turned away from the questions in his brother’s eyes. “And don’t think you’re riding back in the truck with her, either.”

  *****

  Maggie slammed home the latch on her trailer, her eyes filling. God, what happened back there? It was like her ability to calm horses had ramped up by tenfold and just spilled all over everybody. Now the Tremaines all thought she was crazy, or a witch or something. Which was also crazy. There were no such things as witches. She had... had... what? Maybe she’d accidentally hypnotized them or something. Yeah. That could happen, couldn’t it? Whatever had happened, Kemble would make sure she never came near his brother again.

  What did she care? That was a good thing.

  Drew appeared around the back of the trailer. Her gray eyes were steady, speculating.

  Maggie drew a hand across her cheek where her tears had spilled over. “You know, it might be best if Kemble could squeeze into your car, and I’ll just head out from here.”

  “Nonsense. Mother is expecting you at the party. And your things are still at our house.”

  Maggie sw
allowed over a lump in her throat. “Well, I don’t have anything fit to wear to a party like that anyway. You could maybe send my backpack.” How rude of her. Asking them to put themselves out and pay for postage. Even if Mr. Nakamura was the one who ended up doing it. “On second thought, nothin’ in it I can’t do without. You keep it or throw it in the trash.” She fished her truck keys out of her back pocket.

  “Please don’t disappoint my mother. She likes you, and you promised to come.”

  Maggie shook her head. “With a full house she won’t even notice I’m not there.”

  “It’s just a few friends coming. She’ll be terribly hurt.” Drew took Maggie’s hand. Her long, perfectly polished nails were in sharp contrast to Maggie’s short, decidedly unmanicured ones. “You can borrow a dress from Kee. She’s not much taller than you are.”

  Maggie had to leave before these people realized it was she who had drenched everyone with calm and put them to sleep. She glanced up to the barn. Tris and Kemble and most of the siblings were looking down toward where she and Drew were talking. “I ... I wouldn’t fit in.”

  “Because of what happened in the barn? That’s nonsense.” Drew smiled wryly. “My family is very tolerant of people with special talents. Maybe because we’re rather odd ourselves.”

  “You... you know it was me?”

  “Well... yes. Is that how you ride bulls? You... calm them?”