The Mountains of Spring (14 page)

Caroline gave way.
‘
It really is kind of you, and of course I
’
d like to go. I
’
ll have to find out whether the Senora has anything planned for tomorrow afternoon, but I
’
ll let you know as soon as I can.
’

He beamed at her engagin
g
ly.
‘
I
’
ll call you this evening.
’
And as he turned to get back into his car he added:
‘
You might point out to the old lady that I
’
m a very deserving case!
’

She laughed, and as he drove away she waved. And then she hurried into the house with her parcels, which he had deposited on the doorstep, and went straight up to her room.

It wasn
’
t until after dinner was over that she broached the question of her projected racing excursion with her hostess. They had had an early dinner, for the Senora, whose afternoon rest had been disturbed by the passage beneath her window of an unusual quantity of noisy traffic, wished to retire to bed early, and they were drinking their coffee in the coolness of the
salon.
The old lady seemed interested, even intrigued, when she learned
that the young American who had recently bought a very valuable horse from her grandson had offered her guest a lift, and when she discovered that he had actually invited Caroline to accompany him to the races on the following day her interest became acute.

‘
He is ve
r
y rich, that young man,
’
she observed thoughtfully.
‘
Almost as rich as Diego. And he has no wife, I believe. You like him,
chiquita
?’

‘
He
’
s a
...
pleasant sort of person,
’
Caroline admitted, at the same time, for some reason, hating the implications behind the Senora
’
s words.
‘
But I don
’
t think,
’
she added, on a sudden impulse,
‘
that I want to go with him to-morrow. Even, I mean, if you have no objection.
’

‘
But why not, my child?
’
The Senora had been looking rather tired, but now her eyes had begun to sparkle with a curious kind of enthusiasm.
‘
I do not mind
...
why should I? You are young, and must enjoy yourself. And you must not be cruel to the poor young American. You have already given your word to him that if I approve you will go. To draw back would be to treat him very badly, I think. A woman should not do that sort of thing.
’

Caroline had a brief vision of Dick Weldon
’
s face, and she acknowledged to herself that to draw back would be unfair.

‘
I expect you
’
re right,
’
she murmured.
‘
I—I
’
ll
go.
’

‘
Of course you will go,
’
said her hostess.
‘
And when you come back you will tell me all about it!
’

CHAPTER VII

The Hip
o
dromo de Las Americas—the race-track o
f
Mexico City—was one of the most beautiful areas of ground dedicated to the pursuit of the Sport of Kings that Caroline had ever seen in her life, and as soon as she saw it it struck her that in this fascinating, many
-
sided country she was always coming up against some fresh surprise. She and her escort arrived at about twelve o
’
clock, for they were to lunch at the Jockey Club, and as they left Dick Weldon
’
s car in the car-park, and wandered through the crowd of racegoers towards the Club building the first thing that impressed itself upon her was the greenness of it all— the vivid emerald loveliness of the trees and hedges, the well laid out, park-like orderliness of everything.

‘
It
’
s—it
’
s like Kensington Gardens,
’
she told her companion breathlessly, and he laughed.

‘
Oh, no, not quite. A London park could beat anything in Mexico City. I know London
...
I
’
m an Anglophile. I love everything English.
’

He spoke with a kind of whimsical intensity, and she felt a little confused. So far he had not talked very much, but she felt that he looked at her a great deal, and she wished heartily that he would look a little less, and talk a little more. She was not usually inclined to vanity, but she couldn
’
t help being aware of the fact that he was deriving quite a lot of pleasure from being with her, and the intensity of that pleasure alarmed her a trifle. He was nice, but as far as she was concerned that was absolutely all. They had, however, a very pleasant lunch in the dining-room of the Jockey Club. Caroline, who always found people fascinating, thoroughly enjoyed being in a position to observe the colourful cross
section of Mexican society which swarmed all around her, and as her companion was kind and attentive, and for the most part kept the conversation on a light, impersonal level she gradually began to feel more relaxed. It was actually possible, she discovered, to watch the racing from the Jockey Club dining-room, but as Castaneta
’
s moment was not due to come until the middle of the afternoon, and neither of them had any particular reason to be interested in the other events they didn
’
t avail themselves of this advantage. Instead, they enjoyed a leisurely meal, and then strolled outside to mingle with the crowds. There was an infectious lightheartedness in the air, and Caroline began to feel herself caught up in the excitement.

‘
Do you think your horse will win?
’
she asked Dick Weldon, and he laughed.

‘
Of course she will. You
’
re here!
’

It didn
’
t seem to Caroline that this was an argument which anyone wishing to place a bet on Castaneta would have found very convincing, but her escort, who seemed to have a strong streak of puritanism in his make-up, was not, she discovered, a betting man in any case. He raced horses for the thrill of the contest rather than the possibility of financial profit, and presumably for this reason he didn
’
t seem particularly worried about the outcome of Castaneta
’
s race.

For a while they wandered about in a desultory fashion, for the sights of Mexico were intriguing to both of them. During one race they leant against the rails to see the horses flash by, and as they passed in a cloud of red dust, and a roar rose from the throats of the spectators Caroline gave a little gasp.

‘
It
’
s—exciting!
’
she said.

‘
Yes.
’
He looked at her. She was wearing a silk suit, in a shade of pink which made him think of wild English roses, and a shady white straw hat beneath which her skin looked flawless.
‘
It
’
s breathtaking!
’
he agreed.

Then he noticed that they were surrounded by quite a dense crowd, and that he wasn
’
t the only person admiring his companion.
‘
Let
’
s get out of here,
’
he suggested.

They turned to make their way back through the crush, and just as they did so Caroline caught sight of a familiar head and shoulders, and uttered a little exclamation of pleasure.

‘
There
’
s my brother!
’

‘
Oh?
’
The man beside her glanced round indulgently.
‘
Where?
’

But by this time Peter had caught sight of them, and was forcing a way towards them. His handsome blond head towered dauntingly above most of those around him, and he didn
’
t have very much difficulty in clearing a path for himself. When he finally reached them he was grinning boyishly—although it occurred to Caroline that there was something just a little self-conscious about him.

‘
Well, well, well!
’
He looked from one to the other of them.
‘
I didn
’
t expect to find my little sister here with you, Dick!
’

‘
Neither did I,
’
Dick assured him with humility.
‘
I
’
m still having difficulty in believing that she
is
here. But if you say you see her it must be true!
’

‘
Mr.
Weldon asked me to come with him because his new horse is running,
’
said Caroline. She was beginning to wish they hadn
’
t bumped into Peter. It was quite obvious what sort of conclusions he was jumping to, and for some reason it actually upset her to think that anyone could imagine she and Dick Weldon might even be seriously interested in one another.

The two men began to discuss Castaneta
’
s chances, and as the race in which she was scheduled to run was the next on the programme they also started to walk towards the paddock. A great many other people were moving in the same direction, and all around them there was noise and laughter, and a hum of rapid Spanish. There were a considerable number of very smartly dressed men and women among the mass of humanity surging down to look at the horses, and Caroline, who was far from being held spellbound by the conversation of her two companions, glanced at some of the dresses with interest, for quite a few of them bore the stamp of Paris.

And then suddenly, for the second time in ten minutes, her attention was caught by the sight of a face she recognized. Diego Rivel, binoculars in hand but apparently quite unaccompanied, was moving purposefully in the direction of the paddock. A little pulse began to beat at the base of her throat, and she felt her cheeks grow slightly pink. The sight of him threw her completely off balance, and although she didn
’
t really know why he should have such an effect on her she supposed that it was at least partially because of his behaviour on the occasion of their last meeting. That behaviour had certainly not been entirely impersonal, and it was only natural that on seeing him again she should feel a certain
amount of embarrassment. She did wish, though, that her inside would stop turning over, and that her fingers in their cream-coloured gloves didn
’
t feel quite so absurdly tremulous.

Dick Weldon
’
s glance had followed hers, and he lifted his eyebrows.
‘
Your employer
’
s amongst us
.’
he informed Peter.
‘
Did you know?
’

Peter started, and a close observer might have decided that he looked very nearly as shaken, in a somewhat different way, as his sister. His eyes followed the Mexican as he made his way into the parade ring ahead of them, and a quiet but forceful expletive issued from between his lips.

‘
That chap
’
s everywhere
,’
he muttered.

‘
That
’
s what I thought
,’
agreed the American.
‘
Correct me if I
’
m wrong, but I get the impression that you
’
d rather not run into him just now. Do we see you after the race?
’

‘
No.
’
For a moment, Peter had actually stood still in his tracks, and he was still hesitating.
‘
No ... I don
’
t mind running into him.
’
And then he seemed to make his mind up about something.
‘
But I
’
ve just remembered there
’
s someone I
’
d better have a word with. I
’
ll see you later
.’
And with a brief word to his sister he was gone, making his way back in the general direction of the stands.

Nearly all of the horses which were to run in the next race were in the paddock by this time, and several of them had little clusters of interested spectators grouped around them. Castaneta had just been brought down, and as her owner led Caroline towards her she was giving a little trouble. Her jockey, who had twice been unseated, was swearing at her in a peculiar variety of fractured Spanish, and the stable-boy in charge of her seemed to be running the risk of serious injury from her flying back hooves.

‘
The little mare
’
s got some spirit,
’
observed Dick Weldon, without seeming unduly shocked. And Caroline, whose thoughts had been more than half on Diego Rivel, came back to an awareness of her surroundings. She looked at Castaneta, and was instantly enchanted.

‘
Oh, but she
’
s lovely!
’
she exclaimed.
‘
She
’
s— she
’
s the colour of ripe co
rn
.
’

‘
Yes, and she
’
s got the temper of Lucifer,
’
said her proprietor cheerfully.

The jockey made a third attempt to mount, and with abandoned enthusiasm Castaneta plunged wildly. There was a torrent of vituperation, and as the little Mexican slid to the ground again he and the stable-boy embarked upon what was obviously an extremely violent argument. By this time quite a crowd had gathered, and a good deal of free advice was being offered. Dick Weldon spoke, after a moment or two, to the jockey, who replied in English even more wildly distorted than his Spanish, and the gist of his reply was that if the Senor wished his mare to run in the next race it would perhaps be as well if he rode her himself.

‘
Oh, I don
’
t think I
’
ll do that,
’
said her owner placidly. He seemed to be deriving a considerable amount of entertainment from the scene in front of him.

Becoming increasingly theatrical the jockey commenced upon a series of gestures which were evidently meant to indicate the sort of fate he could reasonably expect if he should be so unwise as to persist in his efforts, and at that moment the mare,
completely affronted, reared straight on to her hind legs. As her forefeet plucked the air women screamed in all directions, and Dick Weldon, suddenly active, dragged Caroline out of the way.

But then, as even the stable-boy lost his grip and people scattered in alarm, a man impatiently pushed his way through them, and walked straight towards the hysterical horse. It was Diego Rivel, and while Caroline watched in a kind of fascinated horror the tall, impeccably dressed Mexican reached out a hand and grasped Castaneta
’
s bridle. She had been just about to rear again, and if she had persisted in doing so he would have been in an extremely unpleasant position, but something ... something utterly inexplicable
...
seemed to prevent her. She tossed her head and neighed piercingly, and several times she kicked out fiercely with her hind feet. But from the moment that Diego drew near to her it was obvious she had begun to quieten. Within a minute or two she was standing almost motionless, her sleek golden head drooping, her only movement the compulsive trembling of violent nervous reaction, and as the shaken stable-boy repossessed himself of the leading-rein the man who had calmed Castaneta issued some terse instructions in Spanish. Then he turned away, leaving the horse to the care of those normally responsible for her well-being, and as he did so he came face to face with Caroline.

As Castaneta was restored to tranquility there had been a little burst of applause from the onlookers—subdued applause, of course, as nobody wished to be responsible for upsetting her again—and a good deal of interest had been shown in the
man
whose intervention had been so startlingly successful, but
now the people were dispersing, and everything was more or less restored to normal. It was all over, and in the s
u
dden calm Caroline felt as if she had come through a period of appalling strain. Something seemed to be telling her that it was nonsense to feel like that, for she herself hadn
’
t really been at any time in the slightest danger, but she knew that it wasn
’
t for herself she had been afraid. As she looked at Diego her face was absolutely white.

‘
Senor
,
’
she whispered,
‘
that—that was a wonderful thing to do.
’

He stared at her for a moment, and then glanced at her companion, who as Castaneta
’
s owner had just thanked him for preventing what could have been a
v
ery unpleasant incident.