Beth paused, and automatically reached up to pet the horse. Suddenly she knew what she should do. If Peter was going to treat her like she was Tracy Sturgess, she would act like Tracy.
“Peter,” she called; then, when there was no answer, she called again, louder. “Peter!”
The stableboy stuck his head out of one of the far stalls. “What do you want now?”
“Saddle Patches,” Beth told him. “I want to go for a ride.”
Peter stared at her. “Are you nuts? You don’t know how to ride.”
“Do it!” Beth demanded, hoping she didn’t sound as frightened as she suddenly felt. “Let Patches out in the paddock, and put the saddle on!”
Peter only grinned at her, and shook his head.
“Then I’ll do it myself!” Beth cried. Opening the gate, she let herself into the stall. The horse backed away, then reared up, snorting.
Beth darted across the stall and threw open the door on the other side, and the horse immediately bolted through into the paddock beyond. A moment later, Beth followed.
Outside, she paused, then reached up and took the lead rope off the nail it was coiled over. As she started toward the horse, she tried to remember what it was that Tracy did when she was going to saddle a mount.
Patches eyed her as she approached, pawing at the ground and whinnying softly. When she was only a few feet away, the horse reared up, pawed at the air, then cantered off to the other end of the paddock.
From the stable, Beth heard Peter laughing. She spun around, glaring at him.
“Don’t just stand there! Help me!”
“You let Patches out—it’s your problem!”
Beth looked from Peter back to the horse, and suddenly felt herself begin to panic. The animal, so friendly in the stall, suddenly looked much bigger, and somehow threatening. But she had to get the horse onto the lead. She had to!
She started forward once more, moving slowly and carefully, feeling her heart pound. Patches, apparently no longer interested in her, had reached down and torn a clump of grass up. But when Beth moved in close, the horse suddenly shied away, snorted a warning, then once more trotted away.
Suddenly Beth felt the lead rope being torn from her hand, and heard Tracy’s voice.
“What are you doing, stupid? Give me that!” Then, while Beth stood watching, Tracy trotted over to the horse, grasped its halter just as it began to rear, and snapped the lead in place. She jerked sharply on the lead, and Patches came back to earth, neighing softly.
“You idiot,” Tracy shouted to Beth as she led the horse back to its stall. “What were you doing?”
“I … I just wanted to go for a ride. And Peter wouldn’t saddle him for me, so I tried to do it myself.”
“Well, you can’t,” Tracy snapped. “You don’t know anything about horses.”
“I do, too—”
“You just called Patches ‘him,’ didn’t you? Well, it just so happens Patches is a mare. If you can’t even tell that, you should stay out of the stable. And besides, Patches is my horse!”
“Aw, come on, Tracy,” Peter Russell began, but Tracy whirled around, glaring at him.
“You stay out of this, or I’ll make Father fire you. And don’t ever let her back in the stable again.”
Peter’s lips tightened, but he said nothing. When Tracy had led the horse back into the stable and closed the door, Beth ran over to the boy.
“Peter, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Didn’t you hear her?” Peter demanded, his anger at Tracy now refocused on Beth. “Just stay away, all right?” Then he turned, and also disappeared into the stable.
Beth hesitated, then felt the tears she’d been fighting overflow. Scrambling through the paddock fence, she ran along the path back toward the rose garden, then veered off to the right, going around the end of the house, crossing the front lawn. On the far side two immense stone lions flanked the foot of the trail that led up to the mausoleum. Beth passed between them unseeingly, almost blinded by the stinging tears.
Phillip Sturgess and Alan Rogers stood on Prospect Street, gazing across at the sullen brick facade of the long-abandoned mill. Its windows, long since bereft of glass, were boarded over, and the once-red bricks bore a thick accumulation of grime that had turned them nearly black. At the top, some of the crenellations that had once been the building’s sole claim to architectural interest had crumbled away, giving the abandoned factory a