Part 8 (1/2)

'There was a strong current system,' said Amber. 'It could have been washed in quite easily.'

Paulo sat back in the easy chair. 'So it looks like there's poaching in the area.' He looked at Li and Alex. 'That explains why you've seen people behaving suspiciously.'

'Should we try and do anything?' said Li.

'Be careful who we run into,' grinned Paulo immediately.

The others laughed but they all understood the seriousness of his words. They had come up against poachers before in a game reserve in Zambia and had barely escaped with their lives.

'They're probably in a stinking mood too,' said Hex. 'They lost thirty per cent of their stock over the side this morning. I think we should drop a subtle hint with that gamekeeper we met yesterday and then make sure we don't run into them again.'

'Good plan,' said Amber. She looked at her watch. 'It's lunch time. What are we going to do with Miss Congeniality this afternoon?'

Paulo looked out of the window down the valley. 'The mist has cleared quite a lot. How about your rock climbing, Li?'

Li shook her head. 'No, it's up by the Kyle. It'll be too wet and slippery. We'd be better leaving that until another day.'

'OK, then,' said Paulo. 'There's the riding stables down at Glaickvullin. I'll phone them how many are coming?'

Amber stood up. 'I'll sit this one out,' she said. 'Someone else go.'

Paulo looked surprised. Just the previous week the highlight for Amber was taking Fleur and Claire, two experienced riders, out for a gallop on the moors.

Amber got up and went to the door. 'It's my turn to cook tonight. I'll do something American while you guys are out.' As she pa.s.sed Alex, she shook him gently by the shoulders. 'Alex, are you worrying about those poachers?'

'No,' said Alex, but he knew very well his face said yes.

Paulo was riffling through the phone book, looking for the number of the stables. 'It's just a few deer, Alex. If the poachers didn't shoot them the tourists or gamekeepers would.'

Alex nodded. 'I'll have a word with Rob at the lodge, when I take you guys down to the stables. He can decide if there's anything to worry about.' But something was nagging at the back of his mind. Poaching? Was that all it was? He didn't think so.

Hex followed Amber out to the kitchen. 'Giving up the prospect of riding? Are you feeling well?'

Amber picked up the cutlery tray and took it to the drawer. 'I'd love to go riding. I just don't want it ruined by her.'

Hex picked up some plates from the draining board and stacked them in the cupboard. 'She's really getting to you, isn't she?'

Behind him he heard the sound of cutlery cras.h.i.+ng together. He looked round. Amber was practically throwing the knives, forks and spoons into their trays. 'She's like a cloud of bad vibes. She hates everything. Everything's ”minging”. She hates our guts and I have a natural aversion to being around people who would gladly stab me in the back. I can't wait for the weekend.'

'Rich girl who hates the world? You know, she reminds me of someone I used to know.' Hex looked at Amber, dreading her response. The words had come out before he'd even thought about them.

Amber was standing facing the sink, her back to him. She was very, very still.

'OK,' said Hex. 'I'll take my punishment like a man. Execute me now.'

Amber pivoted on her heel. Her eye had a cold look in it. In her hand was a big, heavy frying pan. 'Ah,' he said. 'Death by cast-iron frisbee.'

But Amber didn't clobber him. She smiled. 'You're in luck. I nearly had a huge sense of humour failure, huh?' She pa.s.sed him the pan.

Hex took it and put it away.

Alex drove out of the stable yard. In his rear-view mirror he could see Tiff waving her hand in front of her face, her nose wrinkled in disgust, while Paulo and Li talked to the yard manager. He was relieved to have a break from her for a while, too. He changed down a gear and headed up the hill. The castellated turrets of Glaickvullin Lodge peeped out over the tops of the tall fir trees. Now the sun was out and its upper windows glinted like slivers of obsidian.

The road levelled out by the lodge gates. Coming down from the moors was a Land Rover marked GLAICKVULLIN LODGE GLAICKVULLIN LODGE, the carca.s.s of a magnificent red stag tied to the roof rack. It was just about to turn in and Alex pulled onto the gra.s.s to give them room. As it came alongside he saw the face of the driver. It was Rob, the gamekeeper, and he had a pa.s.senger: a slim-built man in a checked s.h.i.+rt and a green waxed jacket.

Rob waved to Alex and braked. The head of the stag nodded with the impact, antlers drumming on the vehicle roof. The window slid down smoothly.

'Hi, Rob,' Alex called.

'I spoke to the vet today. That dog your friends rescued is going to be fine. The owners asked me to thank you.'

'That's great news,' said Alex. 'I'll pa.s.s it on.' He nodded at the beast on the roof. 'Looks like you've had a good day.'

The man in the pa.s.senger seat leaned forward and smiled. 'All thanks to my wonderful gamekeepers. They just tell me where to point the gun and I shoot. I'm Frank Allen, the laird. Everything all right up at the hostel?'

'Fine, thanks,' said Alex. 'Good facilities. Great area.' He waved to Rob and moved off. Better to wait until he could get Rob in private to mention their suspicions about the other gamekeeper. He didn't want to get Rob into trouble. Instead he swung the Range Rover up the hill. As he drove, his mind was gnawing away at something. The laird wasn't what Alex was expecting. His accent wasn't local; not even Scottish. More like London. And street London, not stockbroker London. Hex's kind of accent. There was more. Alex had taken in a lot about the man during their short meeting. His waxed jacket was brand new; it still had that glossy patina. Where Rob's had scuff marks, particularly on his right shoulder, from constant friction with the stock of a rifle, the laird's was pristine. Either he'd just bought it or he rarely went out shooting.

12.

STRANGE C CARGO.

Li thought how funny it was to compare the riding styles of her two companions. Paulo rode with long reins, his hips swaying as he let the big ex-racehorse find her own way up the steep bridle path. Behind him, on a small, stocky piebald, Tiff sat very straight in the saddle, as though she was having a deportment lesson. Every now and then she would try to slouch, but when she forgot herself, she sat erect with her heels down and her reins short, making sure her pony was on the bit. It was funny to see her doing something properly for once, despite her conscious efforts not to. She had obviously learned to ride quite well.

Li preferred Paulo's style hardly surprising, as he had been her teacher on vacations on his parents' ranch. He'd taught her to go with the horse's own sense of balance, and that was what she was doing now, her chestnut Arab finding her own path behind Tiff's Welsh cob.

They reached the top. A long stretch of gra.s.s lay ahead, running along a gently undulating ridge line. Paulo gathered up the reins, ready for a canter. Jess, his mount, pranced a few steps, knowing what was coming. Then two men in green tweeds appeared on the left-hand side of the ridge, leading a black pony with hairy legs like flared trousers. On the pony's back was a deer carca.s.s, tethered to an adapted saddle with elastic rope. The deer's head moved in rhythm with the pony's steps.

Paulo squeezed the reins and calmed Jess's bouncy stride. They would have their canter later, once the other pony was well out of the way, otherwise they might upset it. Horses were herd animals and if one started galloping, the others tended to join in. He looked behind him. The other horses were under control, walking obediently.

Suddenly the pack pony stumbled. It lurched forwards, its hooves scrabbling to find a purchase. Instead of turf they found slippery rock. The pony lost its footing altogether and crashed to the ground. The gamekeepers yelled, startled. In moments the pony was on its feet and galloping straight at Paulo. He caught a glimpse of two white-rimmed, panicked eyes in a black face, like a little demon. It went past and Tiff's pony surged after it as if leaping out of the starting gates.

Jess jogged, eager to follow, but Paulo held her in. Tiff and the other pony were hurtling back towards the edge of the ridge they had just climbed. It was very steep and rocky and if they went down there at speed, they'd fall for sure.

Paulo eased the reins. Jess took off in pursuit, her ears fixed on the two rumps in front of her. Behind, Li's horse had joined the stampede.

In moments Jess pa.s.sed Tiff's pony, then the little black draught pony. Paulo swerved in front of them, sat down firmly in the saddle and squeezed the reins.

But instead of slowing, Jess powered on. Paulo pulled sharply and the horse yanked back hard, still galloping. She didn't want to stop. She was winning the race.

The edge was three strides away. If he didn't stop, the others would follow him down and there would be an accident. Paulo relaxed his fingers, sat down hard and squeezed with his legs. Jess's weight s.h.i.+fted backwards. At that moment he turned the top half of his body and Jess suddenly found herself facing the oncoming horses. She stopped, puzzled.

Tiff's piebald cob saw the big mare ahead, stuck his heels in the turf and slid to a stop as did the little pack pony. Tiff went forwards onto his neck, but she didn't fall. Li's chestnut Arab ploughed into the group, but Li kept her balance.

Paulo heaved a sigh of relief. Crisis averted. 'Everyone OK?'

Li's eyes were dancing. He could see she had enjoyed every moment. Tiff was out of breath and didn't look amused as she pushed herself back off the horse's neck and into the saddle. The horses stood blowing, their sides heaving, their eyes bright. They loved a race.