Mishka
Chapter Nine: A Familiar Ring

MacGyver braced himself to endure the rough affection of his fellow Dutch teammates. The black horse, however, didn’t seem to appreciate the attention; it laid its ears back and stretched out its long neck. MacGyver waved them back until the handler could come up and take the reins from him.

MacGyver patted the horse’s neck and quarter. “Thanks, old man. You ran a good course. Hey,” he said to the handler before the man could lead the horse away, “can you do me a favor? This boy likes apples… can you give him one for me. He’s earned a treat.”

“Da.” The man mumbled. He had his head down, a hat pulled out to shade his eyes. Something about his jawline and the square of his shoulders caught MacGyver’s attention.

He tried to see the man’s face, but the man kept the horse’s head between them. “Hey, have I seen you around before?”

“It is possible, sir,” the man shrugged, turning to lead the horse away.

Black wasn’t interested in following him, however. Stubborn as a mule, the horse refused to be moved, jerking his head sharply to attempt to pull the reins from the handler’s gloved hands. The powerful, sudden movement jarred the man, and his hat slid off his head, revealing a shock of blond hair. He hastily caught it and shoved it back on, but MacGyver had his eyes then.

MacGyver recognized the man he had seen on the street the night before. Could this man be his contact? He could just as easily be KGB.

He quickly diverted his attention to the horse. “What’s a’matter, boy? Don’cha want some apples? Eh? Come on—we’ve got to clear out for the next rider.” He waved to his teammates. “Tell Coach Maartin that I’ll report to him in half an hour,” he called out as he took the reins back from the handler. “Let me help you with this demon. His teeth are sharper than a Swiss knife.”

There was a warning gleam in the man’s eye, but the lazy lilt of his voice betrayed nothing. “As you like, sir. Stables are that way,” He pulled off his rawhide gloves and pointed, the sun gleaming off of a ring on his left hand; then, still staring toward the sables, he took the ring off of his third finger and slipped it on the right.

MacGyver felt a flutter of excitement in his belly. That was the correct response to the password Pete had given him. This man was his contact!

The horse permitted MacGyver to lead him about halfway to the stable; then it caught the scent of alfalfa and oats, and it was MacGyver who was being led. He jogged to keep from being dragged into the stable.

The stables were neatly constructed, clean with fresh straw on the floor and windows letting in air and sunlight. MacGyver had lived in apartments that could have fit inside just one of the stalls. Hooks were situated high along the walls, for hanging tackle and equipment, all of which gleamed with good maintenance.

Black passed a number of open stalls, and then plunged into the one which had been appointed to him. “Knows where’s he’s going, doesn’t he?” MacGyver said, releasing the reins before he could be dragged all the way to the bin.

“Horses have good memories. Not so much, men.” The man made a slow, casual turn, looking to see if anyone was nearby. No one was visible, but there were too many places where one could hide and listen. “Men are distracted, by what they see, by what they hear. Horses have focus, yes? They know what they want, and they like things that remain the same.”

A young groom entered the other end of the stable, leading a Clydesdale that was so big it looked as if it could have eaten the boy in three bites. The handler motioned MacGyver to follow him into the stable, out of sight.

“We can’t talk now,” the man said to MacGyver in an undertone. He clipped a lead to the black’s headstall as the horse began to tear at a pile of alfalfa. He drew back his hand quickly, surveying his fingers. “I am Gorodisch. I will be in touch. Don’t look for me—I will find you when it is time.” He began to vigorously brushing the black from shoulder to tail with a coarse brush, leaving the end with the teeth for later.

MacGyver swallowed his questions, keeping his attention on the animal between them. After giving the horse a final pat on the flank, he turned away and made his way back to the grandstands. He was passed by another handler leading a horse, and turning his head to follow their movement, he saw Gorodisch slip skillfully out of the stables to lose himself in the mass of spectators.

MacGyver intended to find his coach and report, and then enjoy the rest of the day’s ceremonies. But as he walked past the field, he saw Natalya standing next to her horse, a petite Arabian. Her jumpsuit stood out brilliantly red against the animal’s creamy colored hide. He paused and watched her pull on her helmet and leap smoothly into the saddle.

She handled the horse expertly though the course. MacGyver admired her grace and confidence. He cheered with the rest of the crowd as the judges delivered favorable marks on her ride. He waited to see if she would come his way afterward, but she was swallowed up in a circle of red jumpsuits as her team delivered their enthusiastic congratulations.

MacGyver decided in that moment exactly how he wanted to spend the rest of his day. Pushing himself off of the fence, he went to execute his plan.

xoxoxox

Natalya wanted to stay and support her fellow teammates as they each went through their own Trials, but the drama unfolding secretly in her room at the hotel, of her uncle and his wishes to defect to the West, distracted her sufficiently that she excused herself and returned to the Ambassador. She didn’t hurry. She didn’t really want to face the problems waiting for her there. How was she going to be able to help her uncle? She had no way to get papers for him, and only a little money to offer. She’d give every ruble she had to help him—but she knew it wouldn’t be enough.

So she walked slowly through the gardens, her excitement from the games turning to clammy anxiety as she passed through the banks of flowers. Yesterday they had appeared grand and beautiful; now they seemed garish and insincere.

Something colorful drew her attention as she walked; a bright red sphere rolled unevenly across her path, curving in an eccentric orbit to rest at her feet. She bent down to pick it up. It was an apple.

As she straightened up with the apple in her hand, another came wobbling along faster, missing her foot by several inches. The bushes up ahead rustled and parted, and MacGyver stepped out. He had an apple in his hand, which he was tossing up and catching deftly.

“Excuse me… have you seen my—yes! You found them!”

Natalya chuckled. She scooped up the second apple and held both up. “I was wondering about these. Being as there are no fruit trees in this garden.”

“I was practicing. Here… throw ‘em.” He held up his free hand to catch.

He caught the first one in his left hand, and when she threw the second, he tossed the one in his right back to her. Surprised, she caught it by reflex.

“I said throw it.” MacGyver grinned at her.

She did, and he threw another apple at her in he same instant. She caught it again, laughing more freely. This time she threw it before he expected it, and he tossed one apple up, almost awkwardly, in order to free a hand to catch it as it arched toward him. Then he had to toss the other to catch the one as it descended. Soon he was juggling the apples desperately, almost dropping them but never quite. After a few passes, Natalya realized that he was in complete control.

“Very good!” she applauded lightly. “Pity this isn’t an event at the Olympics! You are very good.”

“You think this is good, wait until you taste my fruit salad,” MacGyver said, his eyes on the apples. He caught them all quickly and gave her an earnest look. “You will have lunch with me, right?”

“I don’t know,” she said, with mock coyness. “I think the apples will be a little too bruised to eat.”

“It makes them sweeter,” he came back, smiling as they fell into step together.

“And what makes you think that apples are what I want?”

MacGyver shrugged. “The horses like ‘em.”

~~~tbc

Oh, this was lovely! I especially liked the juggling scene -- I could see it in my mind's eye, so clearly. Very sweet and funny and charming. And the bit about dropping the apples in front of her was very reminiscent of the wooing of Atalanta!

nice, very funny and delightful wording.

I love the flow of your text! I can easily see mac doing all of these things! The scene with the fruit juggling was great! Well done:)

Thanks!

Mac is such a multitasker
Thanks for the wonderful chapter, Loth.

Really liked this scene. You did a great job of writing it