by Sable Hunter
“Call me back.”
Cassie had never moved so fast. She grabbed her coat, rolled to the door, out to the ramp and into the yard. The guineas’ nests were on the far side of the garage and she’d beaten a hard little path from daily use. Only when it rained did she have problems, and she’d only got stuck once. Cassie decided not to think about that. Lucky thing the mailman had come along or she’d still be sitting there. But today, there were no problems. She didn’t even stop to think about chicken snakes as she plunged her hands in the nests. Good thing it was winter, because once she’d pulled out more than she’d bargained for. The thought made her shiver.
Eight eggs. Good. If Bowie wanted some, maybe she’d make him some cookies when he came home.
Cassie blushed. Seemed like every thought she had featured Bowie in some shape, form or fashion.
Heading back in, she placed the eggs in a bowl on the table and called him back.
“Cassie?”
“I’m back in. I got eight eggs. Do you like cookies?”
Bowie let out a relieved sounding laugh. “Yea, I’d probably love mud pies if you made them for me.”
“Bowie…what are we doing?” she asked, really needing to know.
“We’re pitching woo. Didn’t you know?”
“No.” She didn’t know. “It sounds like a Wii game.”
Bowie laughed out loud. “Look it up online, Cassie-for-short, I gotta go. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Be careful.” She admonished before he could hang up.
“Always, you too.” Then, as soon as she placed the phone down, she rushed to the computer and looked up ‘pitching woo.’ When she saw it was an old term for courting, Cassie jumped for joy, as high as her wheelchair would allow.
* * *
“I didn’t think you were coming home.” George climbed down from the cab of the smoothing drum.
“Changed my mind, left around two this morning, I couldn’t sleep.” Bowie shrugged his shoulders.
“Have anything to do with that girl?”
“What girl?” George would razz him if he had half the chance, Bowie gave him no ammunition.
“I don’t know what girl, you haven’t introduced me yet. What is she this time? A model? I remember when you dated that Miss Texas runner-up. Damn, she was a looker.”
“Cassie’s special.”
“Ah, Cassie, now, we’re getting somewhere. What does she look like? Is she a blonde?”
“I thought you were into redheads.”
“I was just being polite. The color of their hair don’t make that much difference to me—it’s this…” He moved his hands in the air in an hour glass motion. “I want the curves, baby.”
“A beautiful shade of blonde, looks like molten gold.”
George growled a little in his chest.
“Watch it, this one is off limits.” Bowie started off toward the house.
“Where you going?”
“To catch a nap, I’m beat.”
“It’s only seven in the morning.”
Bowie gave him the middle finger salute. “Hold down the fort, I got things to do later.”
“Kids,” George grumbled as he went back to work.
CHAPTER SIX
A few hours later and a few miles away, over at Cassie’s, she was making herself pretty. The weather was cold outside but she chose a maxi dress, one that would cover her legs. She pampered herself, applying lotions and cosmetics until she was silky and as subtly attractive as she knew how to make herself up to be. This morning, she was going to go on an adventure. Cassie Cartwright was going to pay a visit to a man. Bowie said he would be at home today and she was going to drop by and take him the candle and four dozen cookies she’d just taken from the oven.
The phone call from last night was weighing on her mind, the idea that Bowie might ask her out again. Would she say yes? Cassie shivered with the knowledge that she wanted to spend time with him. Her little experiment from the night before had been inconclusive but not totally negative, so she was willing to take it a step further and see what might transpire with this ‘pitching woo’ business.
She had to make two trips to the van because she couldn’t risk dropping either package. So, it took her about a half hour to get buckled in and ready to go. This morning she had checked out the ‘new baby’ candle again. She had played up little Bowie’s connection to Tebow Ranch and put a symbol of their family brand, a horseshoe, on one side. On another, she placed a real arrowhead she’d found behind her house a few months back. It was perfect, about the size of a postage stamp and looked really good with the other things. A small carved rocking horse completed the arrangement. It was one of the most creative things she had made, at least that was Cassie’s opinion. As she drove to Vega Verde, she grew nervous. What would Bowie think of her just dropping in? Was she being too forward?
Oh well, that didn’t really matter, she was here. Spying his truck parked near one of the Malone Earthworks garage buildings, she pulled up next to it and proceeded to get out. Perhaps she should make herself known before she began bringing in gifts. As always, getting out was neither a fast nor a quiet process.
George Ray heard the commotion and came to see what was going on. He had the smoothing drum loaded and was ready to head back to Eagle Pass. When he came to the door, he was confused. Who in the world? “May I help you, lady?”
Cassie glanced up. “Hello, you must be George.”
“Yea, I am.” He walked over and took her hand. Poor little thing was in a wheelchair. “Are you here for donations?” He began to dig his wallet out of his back pocket.
“Oh, no.” She smiled. “I’m here to see Bowie.”
“Well, he’s not available right now. You’ll have to settle for me. He doesn’t want to be disturbed.”
Cassie’s face fell. “Okay, I understand. If you’ll just put these things in the office for me, I’d appreciate it. I talked to him last night, but he had no idea I was coming over, so it’s okay.” She turned her chair around to retrieve the candle and cookies.
“Wait!” George was getting a suspicion. Surely not. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”
Cassie laughed. “Well, you didn’t ask.” She was about to put the packages in his waiting arms. “I’m Cassie Cartwright.”
Cassie! George felt like he had been hit in the head with a sledge hammer. “You’re Cassie? The Cassie Bowie has been talking about nonstop?”
How can you be elated and embarrassed at the same time? She didn’t know whether to be happy Bowie spoke of her or sad because George seemed so disbelieving that she could be in a relationship with his friend. She opted for the later. In a small voice, she answered. “Yea, I’m afraid so.”
George could instantly tell he had put his foot in his mouth. So, he changed his tone—immediately. That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have a talk with the boy, but he had no intention of hurting anyone. “Wow! I’m so glad to meet you. Look, he’d want you to go on up to the house. He’s had a good four and a half hour nap. The boy’s a light sleeper. I have to leave, but just walk—uh, roll—through the varmints, open the door and yell at him.”
Cassie was unsure. “You think it will be okay?”
George waved his hand in the air. “Oh, sure.” He wasn’t about to get his tail in a crack with Bowie. And he was pretty sure not treating this little one like gold would be a way to do it.
Cassie took him at his word and risked taking both items, the cookies in her lap and the package on top. Since she was in the motorized chair, she didn’t need both hands to move.
But the ground was a bit bumpy. At least it was daylight and she could appreciate her surroundings. Bowie’s home was beautiful. Even in the winter when nothing was as green as it would be come spring, she could see that it would live up to its name of Vega Verde. The beagle came running toward her, as did a couple of cats but when she grew closer to the porch, she could see the German Shepherd was scratching at the door and making awful, desp
erate growling noises. “What’s wrong?” she asked the dog. He looked at her with, if she wasn’t mistaken, concern in his eyes. That’s when Cassie noticed the problem. She couldn’t get up the steps with her chair. There was a wide verandah but no ramp, of course. “Bowie!” she called out. “Bowie, it’s Cassie!”
She waited for a few seconds. Nothing, except for the dog acting more and more desperate. Looking back over her shoulder, she saw George pulling out of the driveway in his truck, pulling a big gooseneck trailer with a big machine on top of it. For a moment, she considered trying to walk to the door, but she knew she’d be useless after a few steps. Crawling into Bowie’s home was not something she wanted to do.
Maybe there was another door she could knock at. “Bowie!” she yelled again, for good measure. Lands, he must be sound asleep. But the dog’s insistent pawing and whining was unnerving. She tried to crane her neck to see if there was a snake or something at the door, but no—it was the wrong time of year for snakes. Glancing around, she noticed the attached garage was open. Perhaps there was a door in there that was on ground level. Motoring around, she headed for the double door opening. As she entered the darker interior, her eyes sought an entrance to the house. Yes! There was one. It even had a window she could see into the house, if she could get close enough. Easing up, she knocked on the door. “Bowie!” And waited. Then, she did it again. “Bowie! It’s Cassie! Can I come in?”
Nothing.
Inching up a bit closer, she peered into the house. The door opened into the kitchen, but she could see straight through to what looked like a den and lying stretched out on the couch was Bowie. She knocked again. “Bowie!” Surely, he could hear her. She knocked harder. There was really no way he couldn’t have heard her. A bit of doubt filled her mind.
Maybe he was ignoring her.
She stared hard at the sleeping figure. His arm hung off the couch, it didn’t really look big enough to accommodate him. She stared. He was so still.
What if something was wrong?
She remembered the German Shepherd. “Bowie!” Concerned, she tried the door knob and found it unlocked. Pushing the door open, Cassie was hit in the face with a noxious cloud of gas. Fear and shock swamped Cassie. “Oh, my God!” She had to get help! Cassie panicked. Setting the cookies and candle hastily on the counter, she scrambled in her pocket for her phone to call 911.
She was just about to hit the button when she remembered being taught in school about the possibility of cell phones igniting gas fumes. Leaving the door open, she backed out of the garage before she made the call.
“Hello? What’s your emergency?”
“I’m at Bowie Malone’s house at Malone Earthworks in Bandera and he’s unconscious from gas fumes. We need help!”
“Can you get him safely out of the gas?”
“I don’t know, I’m in a wheelchair.” She was crying by this time.
“There could be danger of explosion. Stay back and we’ll get there as fast as we can.”
“Okay.” But there was no way she was giving up and staying out, not with Bowie in danger.
After hanging up, Cassie went back in. Covering her face with both hands, she looked around until she saw a dish towel and moved to get it. Holding it over her mouth and nose, Cassie moved farther into the room. There was no way she was leaving Bowie inside this house if there was any chance she could wake him up.
She left the back door open and moved through the kitchen to the den. Seeing the front door, she opened it, then the screen. “Get back!” She admonished the animals, knowing they didn’t need to be in these fumes either. Propping open the door, she hoped to let in fresh air. Now, for Bowie! Turning back, she rolled to him. He looked asleep. She placed her hand on his chest, desperately seeking a heartbeat. “Yes,” she whispered, finding one. “Bowie! Bowie! Wake up!” She shook him. Twice she tried to wake him. Getting no response, Cassie decided to try and help him some other way.
She knew she had to do something. He was so big. There was no way she could lift him. Shaking him again, she almost gave up. Then, she noticed her chair was standing on a rug. Cassie wondered…
Dang, it was worth a try. She couldn’t give up. Cassie didn’t know a lot about what exposure to the gas could do or how bad Bowie might be injured but she couldn’t help but be scared to death. Leaning forward, she put one hand around his neck and the other grasped his arm and she pulled. He scooted toward her, but he didn’t make any noise. “Please, Lord. Please,” she begged. Moving down his body, she took hold of his legs and pulled. He moved farther to the edge. But still, he didn’t awaken. Fear gave her strength, so Cassie just finally took hold of his belt, put her wheelchair in reverse and held on. Bowie tumbled to the floor. Cassie began to cry, hoping she hadn’t hurt him. Backing away, she moved to the end of the rug and tried to bend over. This would be the hard part because of the pressure it would put on her legs and spine. But she couldn’t let that stop her now. The fumes she was breathing, even with the doors open, were beginning to make her feel sick. There was no telling what shape Bowie was in.
Biting her lip against the pain, she bent over, almost double and a cry of agony escaped her lips. It hurt so bad! But she held firm and grabbed the edge of the rug with one hand, then she twisted her wheels back toward the front door and put the chair in reverse. As she moved backward, she grabbed the rug with the other hand. Bowie’s large frame was fairly centralized on the rug, so when she slowly, slowly began to move across the polished hardwood floor, so did he and the rug.
Tears streamed down her face. But she didn’t let them stop her. The four or five feet to the door seemed like miles. She’d thought of heading back through the garage, but that would mean Bowie had to stay in the fumes for so much longer, plus going through the kitchen where the fumes would be the strongest. So, the front door was the smart answer. But when she came to the door, she realized she had another problem—the steps. Cassie knew she had to get Bowie as close as she could, but that would mean taking a tumble. Her chair would have to go out the door and she would go with it, but at least he would be where his head was near fresh air. Closing her eyes, she just went with it—back, back—the feeling of weightlessness and then being thrown backward.
Crash!
The landing knocked her breath from her lungs and the jarring as she hit the wood sent razor blades of pain radiating through her back and hips. Cassie couldn’t help it, she screamed, then she blacked out.
* * *
“It’s about time you woke up,” George grumbled. “I didn’t get out of Bandera County before the law is calling to tell me to come back. Something about you gassing yourself.”
Bowie looked at his partner like he was crazy. He tried to sit up but a rolling feeling of nausea quickly changed his mind. “Where am I?”
“In the emergency room, where do you think?”
Bowie closed his eyes, then opened them and looked around. “I don’t understand.” The last thing he could remember was lying down on the couch to take a nap. “What happened?”
“Best we can tell, it was because of your old stove. The gas company had a line break, turned off the gas to work on it and when they turned it back on early this morning, your pilot light wasn’t lit and gas started leaking into your house.”
“Damn.” Bowie rubbed his face, trying to clear his head. “Close one, huh?” He reached for a glass of water on the table. George handed it to him.
“I called your uncle, he’ll be here tomorrow.”
“No use, I’ll be fine,” Bowie muttered. “Thanks for saving me. I guess I owe you my life.”
George laughed. “Not me, you owe that little girl of yours. She saved you.”
“What?” Bowie didn’t understand who George was talking about. “Who?”
“Cassie, your Cassie,” George answered. “She saved your life. The EMT said there was no way you would have ever woken up by yourself and I was already gone. If Cassie hadn’t come along, you would be laid up on a table down at
Grimes Funeral Home.”
“Gee, thanks.” Bowie didn’t like the idea. But, Cassie? How? “Cassie saved me? But, how?” He looked around the room. “Where is she?”
“She drove up before I left with some stuff for you, cookies for one.” George leaned his considerable weight forward as he propped his hand on one knee. “At first, I told her you were busy. I thought she was there for some kind of donation for the handicapped.”
Bowie groaned. “George—”
“Wait,” George held up his hand. “I redeemed myself, as far as I’m concerned. When I realized who she was, I told her to go on up there and see you. And she redeemed herself in my eyes too. Any woman who will drag their man out of danger, forcibly, saving their life is okay in my book.”
At that, Bowie sat up. “She did what?”
“She told the authorities that your dog, the shepherd, was scratching at the door. Cassie called you, but you didn’t answer. So she went through the garage, there was no way she could get on the porch without a ramp.”
A ramp. He needed a ramp. Thinking of Cassie, there was a lot of things he needed to make her comfortable in his world. “So, she came in where I was?”
“Yea, she did. Rolled right on in where you were, then proceeded to yank you off the couch and drag you out on the rug.”
What George was saying didn’t even sound feasible. “She’s not strong enough.”
“Fear and adrenaline does funny things sometimes.”
“Where is she?” Bowie repeated. “Has she been here? Did she go home?”
“She was admitted here.” George informed him flatly. “Took a pretty bad fall when she pulled you out the door, her wheelchair fell backward out onto the porch, knocked her out when her head hit the ground.”
One minute George was sitting next to Bowie, the next he was pushed across the room because Bowie was up and on his feet and making his way to the door. “Where is she?”
“You don’t have on any shoes!” George bellowed to no avail.
Bowie made his way out of the room he was in and started down the hall. “Cassie!”