I never saw Matt come in. I had no idea how late he stayed out, but he was in bed covered with the quilt when I slowly eased myself into fresh clothing early the next morning. I had been smart enough to include riding breeches and boots in the hope that the trainer would let me ride Tempus on his training track but the idea of taking out a retired race horse and trail riding through the State Forest tickled me in a good way. The yard was busy with grooms, exercise boys and the girls that fed and watered.
JD was inspecting the south row of stalls and looked up as soon as my footsteps sounded behind him. He smiled and waved before he gestured for me to follow him into his office. Made from two of the box stalls and finished inside, it was a warm comfortable place made homey by photos of past winners on the flat and over steeplechase jumps. He had ridden in Europe as well as the States, winning at many of the top race courses in the world. Why he was hiding out in the backwoods of Virginia had me puzzled.
“I got tired of the high pressure and back-stabbing,” he offered. “The pace here is much slower for me and the horses. I don’t need to win big anymore. So, how well can you ride?” For a moment, I wondered if he had read my mind.
“I’m not a bronc rider but I can stay on a temperamental thoroughbred,” I said. “I’ve ridden cross-country on a stallion, on my own when I was just a kid.”
He laughed at that. “Like how old are you now, Colin?”
“I’m 16, Mr. Derry and I’ve seen a lot more than most sixteen-year-olds in that time. Enough to curl your hair.” I said it flatly and without anger. He took it for the truth which it was.
“So, the time on your colt was not an exaggeration?”
I pulled out my cell and showed him the video of me on the makeshift track on the salt playa. Complete with stopwatch and mile markers. Even with the colt carrying my 180 lbs, he was nearly as fast as the Triple Crown winner’s time at the Derby.
“You ride well,” was his comment. “Okay. Let me get Baleek tacked up for you and you can go out with the string or the trails. Your choice.”
“Trails. Riding in the woods is like cocaine to me,” I grinned. “Oh. I left a note at the motel for my Dad. If he calls here, tell him I’ll be at the diner in town at 3 or so.”
He nodded and we went back out to the other side of the shed row where he pulled out a 16.3hh chestnut with stockings and a blaze. Built like a quarter horse not a TB but his registered name was familiar to any race aficionado. He had won several well-known point-to-points in Maryland ten years ago.
I helped brush and tack him out, looking askance at the tiny English saddle that looked like it was made more for a 13-year-old girl than me. He laughed at my disgruntled look. “It’s a jumping saddle. If you think you need a western, I can saddle him with that.”
“No. It’s good. I can handle it.” I led the gelding over to the mounting block and slid onto the saddle. I didn’t like to mount from the ground, it pulled a horse’s spine and eventually caused the animal to go one-sided. Years ago, everyone used a block or a leg up.
“The trails are marked. Follow the green blazes and it’ll make a five-mile circle. The white are connecter trails. Blue goes to town and red up the mountain, circles around and comes back through the main road. But that’s a ten-mile ride.”
I gathered my reins and settled into the flat seat before I nodded and clucked. He was very responsive under my leg but before I walked off, I asked for his barn name. Baleeky. So close to Ballycor’s that it made me pause. He watched us ride off and I headed for the wood line as had the riders I had seen yesterday. Today, I was on my own as the boarders didn’t get there until later.
The woods were quiet, peaceful and the scent of pines brought back memories of me riding with Ballycor. Those days had been idyllic even was I was being hunted and chased by bad people. The trails were well marked and easy footing and in places, I could both trot and canter. Baleek was agreeable with both and responded quickly when I wanted him to slow down. His walk was huge, and he covered a lot of ground fast, so it was with some surprise that we had done the five-mile loop in mere minutes. I asked him to trot onto the blue trail and he went just as eagerly as if it were his idea. Probably he was just as happy to go out as I was.
We crossed small streams that chuckled over rounded gray rocks and tiny minnows darted away from his hooves. I saw birds and squirrels, chipmunks yelled at us for disturbing their forest and even the deer paused on the way to stare at us. Trilliums of white and rose popped up here and there. Jack-in-the-pulpits were just unfurling their flowers, but the May apples were out along with skunk cabbage. It was spring in Virginia, with it still a month behind in the Dakotas. I felt a huge lessening of the gloom that had plagued me for the last year and looked forward to what was coming.
I let the gelding lope up a hill and we topped out on a small mountain that had been clear cut so that the view was of the entire valley below. I could see a resort with its golf course, tennis courts and lake and beyond that, the town spread out in the center of the valley. The steeples from several churches were the highest buildings in sight, nestled among great oak and magnolia trees.
There was a trail leading down to the village and impulsively, I decided to take it. After another hour of walking, we emerged on the outskirts of town near the park. From the evidence of old and newer piles of horse droppings, I wasn’t the only one to have the notion to ride into town. Good old Baleek clip-clopped his way towards my unintended destination. I had to giggle. When I’d been ten, I thought riding my horse up to the take-out window was the epitome of cool. And now, I was planning on doing it.
I reached around to see if my wallet was still in the back pocket of my britches. They weren’t really made for carrying things. Yup, still there along with my credit card and cash.
People came out of their pretty old storefronts to smile at us as we headed for the diner and I laughed when I saw the old hitching rail out front. Not that I would tie the old boy up with his reins, that was a major no-no in my horse world. Instead, a waitress came out and asked me what I wanted. I slid off the saddle, stretched and ordered a hot dog with the works, French fries with cheddar cheese and a vanilla shake. Whipped cream, cherry and pecans on top.
I ate, sitting on the picnic table top with Baleek trying to horn in on my fries but he made that face when I let him slurp up some cream. There was a crowd starting to gather around us, mostly kids that were tourists. They told me that their dads were out golfing, their moms had gone shopping in town to get away from the golf nuts and fishing was where they would rather be. The trout festival was going on but most of that activity was on the other side of town on the river. That explained the sudden influx of rental cars, trucks and fishing boats.
I was told the shortest way back to the stables was to head out of town on the river road and take the first dirt road on my left. It would come out on one of the white connector trails and bring me into the yard through the track. I used the picnic table to get on and we meandered off, my belly full and I was happy. He knew we were headed home and picked up his pace.
The river was barely that. More like what I would call a creek, but it bubbled over rocks and looked cold. There were people standing in it up to their waists in waders, casting long fly-fishing rods with serious concentration. Further down the banks the water spread out and here, I saw men in canoes and kayaks. Some were fishing and others were just enjoying the white water of some nasty looking rapids. None of them noticed me and we hurried past them at a trot. It was getting late into the afternoon and I was sure that Matt would be worried about me. Plus, I wanted to be back to see if Tempus had arrived.
The road turned to macadam and we had to slow down, his flat shoes tended to slip on the smooth tar. He knew he was headed home and wanted to go faster but I was afraid to risk it. As we came around the corner, a black Mercedes limo took it too fast and spotted us at the last minute. The driver slammed on the brakes and I jerked my reins up, slammed my heels into Baleek’s sides as he leaped over the hood of the sliding car. He came down hard, caught himself and cantered off with me hanging off his neck. I’d lost my stirrups, came off the ridiculously tiny flat seat and bounced onto the pavement. It knocked the air out of me. I couldn’t breathe. My helmet went bouncing off by my hand and I felt skin abrade from contact with the road. My hands and knees too, which meant that I was also bleeding.
I still had the reins in my hand, but the gelding spooked and took off, tearing the leathers from me. By the time I thought I could breathe again, he was out of sight and the doors of the limo slammed open.
“Oh my God!” I heard an upset voice. Male. A man in a chauffeur’s cap and suit leaned over me. “Are you hurt? Can you move?”
Since I was heaving for breath, I didn’t answer him until someone else reached around him and heaved me up by the waistband of my breeches. Several times. My lungs opened up and I gasped in a welcome gutful of air. A thin man in a three-piece suit of gray wool stood there.
“Oww,” I said weakly as I stared at my bloody hands. I sat up and swiftly, lay back down. My ribs hurt, along with my back and neck. Nothing broken, though.
“I’m okay. How’s the horse?”
The chauffeur looked down the road. “He’s gone.”
I tried to stand up. I heard another voice come from the inside of the limo. “Is he hurt? Do I need to call 911?”
“I’ve got to find him. He’s not mine and he’s valuable,” I gasped and struggled to my feet. I was dizzy and the driver put his hand out to catch me.
“You’re in no condition to run after him,” he said. “You’re bleeding…knees, hands and it looks like you bumped your head.”
“Henry, if he’s conscious and talking, he’s okay. Leave him and let’s go. I have an important meeting at the resort that I can’t miss,” the older man inside the limo said abruptly. “It’s his fault he fell off.”
“Wait a minute,” I snapped. “There are signs posted about riders up and down this road. You took the curve too fast. I was on the side and off the street. You almost hit me.”
The door opened and a man in a suit stepped out. He was built like a wrestler, short, bulky and muscled. With gray hair cut short like old-time military. As soon as I saw him clearly, I felt my face blanche and I stepped back, right into the driver who caught me in a bearhug.
“Of all the places I’ve been in the last six years, who thought I’d walk right up to my grandson,” the former State Trooper said to me. So much for him not recognizing me.
My grandfather came closer and gripped me by the collar, twisting it so that I could barely breathe. He told the driver to hold me and not let me escape. I stamped down on his foot with the heel of my riding boot and because I had spurs on, I raked them across his shin. He yelped and let go. I turned and ran for the woods, scrambling up the slight slope on hands and knees until I found a trail and took off running. Yells sounded behind me and I felt the thuds of the big man’s feet as he followed.
I turned my neck around to see how far behind me he was, I panicked. As big as the dude was, he ran like a sprinter, almost close enough to touch me. I poured on more speed, but my lungs still ached from the fall and my knees screamed at me to stop. Slowly, I pulled away from him, especially as the trail headed uphill where his weight and gravity worked against him.
Reaching the top, I curved around a switchback and started down the other side of the hill. What I didn’t realize was that the trail came out on the road and waiting there was the limo with my grandfather standing in front of it. I slid to a stop, turned to run and saw the driver coming down after me. So, I did what I’d done on the horse. I leaped over the hood of the car but DeAngelis held a small black box in front and pointed it at me as I soared into the air.
The taser prongs hit me in the chest and it was as if a bolt of lightning had taken over my body. I would have screamed if the 50,000 volts let me open my mouth. I hit the metal hood and rolled off, but I wasn’t aware of anything but the fiery agony that made my entire body convulse. By the time it ended, I was zip-tied and in the back seat of the limo, lying on the floor. My grandfather zapped me again and I didn’t remember anything until I woke up inside a hotel room, spread eagled on a bed, tied to the head and footboards with a gag in my mouth. He sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at me.
I struggled. My whole body felt pulverized. I could lift my head. My knees were still abraded and bloodied so not much time had passed. He hadn’t done any first aid, nor made any attempt to help me.
I tried to scream. He watched me struggle without expression. When I quit from exhaustion, he bent over me and removed my gag. “If you scream, I’ll cut out your tongue,” he said. “You don’t need it with what I want you for.”
“What do you want?” I snarled. “My money? It’s so far out of your reach that you’ll never get a dime.”
“You’re 16 years-old, Cris. Pretty enough to satisfy some eclectic tastes. I’m betting you’re untouched, too. I have many customers that would pay a fortune for you.”
I froze in horror. “You wouldn’t dare!”
“Oh yes, I would. I might even break you in myself. Still want to defy me or don’t you remember what I did to you last time I had you?”
“My father will find you. He’ll kill you if you do anything to me!”
“Your father is dead,” he said callously. “And this stupid obsession you have that you’re reincarnated is plain foolishness. Madness. Your mother was unstable, and I find that it afflicts you, too. Too bad that your trust fund allows for just such a provision. We’ll be heading back to my place where I’ll decide what is best for you. Until then…” He turned to another man that had just entered the room, escorted in by the driver. The same man that I had seen standing at the side of the limo. “He’s yours, Henry. Make him nice and quiet for the trip back.”
“Help me, I’m being kidnapped,” I said quickly. “You can’t let him do this to me!”
He rolled up my sleeve and swiped an alcohol pad across my inner elbow even though I tried to twist and jerk away. The driver held me down as a needle slid effortlessly into the vein. In seconds, their faces faded to giant flesh-colored moons hanging over me. Then, nothing.
I had vague remembrances of being taken to different places in a wheelchair. Of riding in jets and limos. Of signing endless papers with a hand that barely held a pen, of needles that always left me dazed, groggy or absolutely mindless. There were times that I purposely forgot, when he touched me in places that I knew were wrong and with an audience, yet I could do nothing or say anything to make them stop. There were times that I forgot who I was or that I had anyone left that cared for me. I wished I was dead. I waited for the opportunity to make myself that way. To die. But he never left me alone or in a position to do anything harmful to myself.
The only thing that kept me from giving in altogether was that I knew Matt would move heaven and earth to find me. When the horse came back riderless, there would have been people sent out to find me. Someone must have seen the limo and maybe Matt would have recognized my grandfather like I had. I had to cling to the hope that he would find me. If I lost that, I would give up. I would kill myself rather than suffer the fate that DeAngelis wanted for me.
I had no idea where I was living. All I could see was the four walls of a room that might have been a hospital or a motel. Or a room in a private nursing home although I never saw any staff other than the one man who had given me the shot that had knocked me out originally. He brought me food, drinks and drugs. Made me wash and helped me with hygiene. He would not answer any questions not talk to me. It was as if I were no more than a plastic mannikin that he was charged with tending.