Cut Throat (58 page)

The atmosphere in the study was strange, half-triumphant and half-subdued. Nobody, least of all Franklin, could be sorry that it was all over but neither could anyone be completely satisfied with the outcome. The personal involvement saw to that.

Ross lounged in one of the armchairs, his leg propped up on a footstool, regarding the gathering drowsily over the rim of his mug. Unable to hide his disability any longer, he had been forced to admit that he needed help. A temporary lay-off was obviously on the cards but the disappointment was tempered by the assurances of the three owners present that their horses would be saved for him. They would be kept fit but their competitive careers placed on hold. It was more than Ross had dared hope for.

‘Leo Jackson, or rather Lewis Roach, was a nasty piece of work,' McKinnon said presently into the thoughtful silence. ‘Quite apart from the suspicion of assault in Ireland, we finally traced him back to London, where he's wanted by the Metropolitan Police for GBH. Apparently he worked for a building contractor until his foreman caught him stealing. The poor man got in the way of a fork-lift truck that Lewis happened to be driving and never worked again.'

‘Stealing? That's not like Leo,' Ross observed with ironic surprise. ‘But seriously, if it hadn't been for that crazy stallion of Roland's, I'd probably never have worked again, either!'

‘I told you he was a battle charger,' Roland put in smugly.

McKinnon laughed.

‘And what about Darcy?' the Colonel asked, carefully avoiding Franklin's eyes. ‘I suppose he'll have to go to prison?'

‘Well . . .' McKinnon hesitated. ‘Franklin and I discussed that this afternoon while we were waiting for things to get underway, and we agreed that it would be better for all concerned if we can keep this business out of the courts. The injured parties are all in this room – with the exception of Peter, that is – and it isn't pleasant to have one's personal affairs dragged out under the public gaze. Of course, the decision rests partly with Ross, but if he agrees not to press charges at this point, Darcy will be asked to sign a detailed statement of his activities, witnessed by those present, and the family solicitor with whom it will then be lodged. In return for which, Darcy will go free, on the understanding that he returns all the proceeds of his crime and leaves the country on a one-way ticket – the further away, the better. I think for the boy's sake he will do so.'

Ross thought it far more generous than Darcy deserved.

‘Ross?' Franklin was watching him anxiously.

‘Oh, sure,' he said. ‘That's fine by me. I don't think I want that kind of publicity any more than you do. To be honest, I've had a bellyful of publicity of any kind.'

Franklin's look held a wealth of gratitude. ‘I don't know how to thank you,' he began earnestly.

‘Please, don't. If I made any useful contribution it was as a catalyst. I think I charged round like a bull in a china shop until Darcy was sure I'd uncover him by accident, if nothing else! I mean, for a long time I had Roland down as the villain, for Chrissakes!'

‘Roland?' the Colonel exclaimed through the general amusement. ‘Good Lord! Why ever? He hasn't enough energy to be a criminal.'

Ross caught Roland's eye across the room and he winked. Ross had asked him on the way home why he had never told his father what his real profession was. ‘Oh, I don't know. I expect I will one day. It's just . . . well, I think an excess of fatherly pride would be a little tiresome, don't you?' Roland had said. ‘He's quite fond of me as I am, you know.'

After a few more minutes, McKinnon took his leave.

‘I would imagine it won't be long before the police appear to inform you of the tragic “accident” that has happened on your land, involving one Leo Jackson lately in your employ,' he told the Colonel. ‘I think it would be better if I have Darcy out of the way before they do.'

On his way out, he shook hands with each of them, pausing for a moment by Ross.

‘If you ever grow tired of playing with horses, young man,' he said, ‘you could always come and work for me.'

‘Uh, thanks but no thanks, as they say,' Ross declined politely. ‘I prefer problem horses to problem people.'

McKinnon shook his head, apparently not understanding how anyone could, and went on his way.

As he left, Lindsay arrived.

She came into the room unconscious of the preceding drama and it was clear that the atmosphere struck her almost immediately.

‘I couldn't get through to the yard, there's a tree down, so I came round . . . Goodness, this is quite a crowd! What's been going on? Have I missed something?' she asked of no one in particular.

For some reason everyone looked at Roland.

He looked astounded.

‘Why me?' he exclaimed in aggrieved tones.

Lindsay shrugged. ‘Well, if it's some great secret . . . Ross will tell me later, won't you, Ross?' She moved across to sit on the arm of his chair, draping her arm round his neck.

Significant glances were exchanged around the room but Ross didn't care. His aches and pains began to feel more bearable by the moment.

‘By the way,' Lindsay said, dismissing the mystery as of no importance, ‘I've had an idea. I was wondering – do you think if we clubbed together we could buy Bishop for Ross to ride? I've got some money put by.'

Ross made a movement of protest, the Colonel and Roland looked thoughtful, and Franklin looked at his toes.

‘I'm afraid,' he said in quiet apology, ‘that this particular Yorkshire farmer has no wish to sell.'