What had his grandmother told him from the time he was a little boy? “Follow your heart, and you will be in tune with all that is.”
“Follow my heart,” Clint mumbled, chuckling. “Guess I got to get my ass to Chicago, ‘cause that’s where my heart is.”
- o -
Louie Picard picked up the phone on the second ring. “Yeah.”
“Louie, how’s her filly look?”
“She’s only been back a week. Filly looks sound and raring to go.”
“Good. Her old man’s probably got his hopes up real big.”
Louie winced at the caller’s snicker.
“Louie, you know what to do?”
“Yeah.”
“Good. See that you do the job right.”
The phone clicked in Louie’s ear. He grimaced. What had he ever done to deserve this? “You wallow in shit long enough,” he muttered, “you become shit like the rest of them.”
- o -
Cassie sat in the owner’s box fidgeting with the straps of her binoculars. She’d done all she could to prepare Hope for the big race. Now it was up to the jockey and the racing gods. Maybe the altitude switch would make the difference again. If it did, at least something good would’ve come from her Wyoming trip.
Eight minutes to post. The jockeys were jogging their mounts on the backside, loosening them up before entering the starting gate. Cassie tensed, suddenly aware that Hope didn’t appear as up on her toes as she had in Wyoming. The horse was sweating more than usual, giving her an overall washed out look and no doubt depleting her energy.
Cassie sighed. Forlornly, she reflected for the hundredth time on her Wyoming trip. Had she made a mistake? He never called or wrote, but then neither had she. It was like they were on two planets in different orbits. She had to admit she missed his touch and his sensuous low voice. She wondered what kinds of troubles Samantha and Lester were attempting. And she heard again Clint’s mother saying You must be something very special. And what did his grandmother mean, Woman of Fire?
The clang of the starting gate drew her attention back to the track. Her heart sank as Hope stumbled out of the gate. The filly did make up some ground on the home stretch to place a credible fourth. But that wouldn’t be enough for her father; even second best wouldn’t be enough. Cassie squared her shoulders. She wouldn’t settle for second best, either.
Cassie retrieved her filly from the jockey and led her back to the barn area where she began rubbing liniments into Hope’s ankles. She sensed eyes drilling holes in her back. She groaned, knowing that Harrington would be by to gloat. His horse had beaten Hope by six lengths for a well-earned victory. Hope had never really contended. Standing up, Cassie turned to take the abuse.
She was surprised to see concern registered on Harrington’s face. “How’s she doing? She had a pretty rough go of it out there today. Are you okay, Cass?”
“Yeah,” Cassie acknowledged. “Ankles are still warm and tender to the touch. She should be okay in a day or two. Congratulations on your win.”
“Thanks,” said the tall, bulky trainer. “Maybe you should offer to take me out to dinner to celebrate.”
Cassie winced. “I’ve got my hands full here and at home.” She paused. Wrapping her arms tightly around her body, she warned, “Ed, don’t be thinking that I’m part of your social life. I don’t have time for one. So, please, find another woman to pursue. From what I hear, there are plenty who are interested.”
“That’s too bad,” Ed countered. “Everyone ought to make time for play, now and then.”
“I’m afraid I don’t have the time.”
“Oh well. Like you said, there are plenty other women lined up.”
Cassie gave him a warm smile. “I’m sure you’ll find more than one willing to care for your ego.” His mouth twitched in response. “And I do appreciate the training advice you give me. I hope we can still be friends.”
“Of course we’re friends. You’re a sexy looking woman, Cassie O’Hanlon but I’d much rather have you for a friend than an enemy.” He doffed his hat. “Well, I better get back to my horses.”
No sooner than had Harrington left than Louie Picard stopped by to offer his condolences. “Don’t mind Harrington. He’s more wind than anything else when it comes to women. He thinks you’re cute, so you should naturally think he was the best thing since sliced bread.”
Although the news that Harrington thought she was cute made her want to gag, Cassie smiled faintly at her aging friend. Apparently, he’d overheard at least part of her conversation with Harrington. “That’s all right. He’s a big boy and should know he can’t win them all.”
“How’s your dad going to take this loss?”
“He’ll be okay, I think,” she said. “I’m glad I talked him out of being here today. Dad warned me we couldn’t win them all. And he’s really pointing to the Land of Lincoln Stakes, and there are still two more preps before then. If we can win one of those, we’ll be in good shape. If not, we’ll probably still compete. That’s horse racing. Right?”
“Yeah,” the old man grunted, “that’s horse racing. Well, I best be goin’. Got my own horses to tend to. Say hi to your dad for me.”
An hour later, after taking Hope off the hotwalker and returning her to the stall, Cassie scratched the animal’s neck. Hope nickered softly in response. Contact with the filly probably did more to soothe her own nerves than those of the horse. Hope snuffled, sensing that something was wrong.
“It’s okay, Hope,” Cassie mumbled, continuing to rub both hands up and down the horse’s long outstretched neck. “You did the best you could. That’s all we can ask. You’re a good horse, but maybe not at this level of competition.”
“Giving up so soon? That seems to be a habit of yours.”
The low dry accusing voice crackled in the late afternoon breeze. Cassie fought the urge to turn. Her heart leaped to her throat. Tears threatened to embarrass. Without looking at him, she complained, “How did you find your way out of Utah and Wyoming, Travers?”
Clint held his tongue.
Turning at last, she snapped, “And what are you doing in the barn area? Only owners and trainers working at this track are allowed.”
“Well then, young lady, I guess it goes without saying that I’m not alone. Brought a few horses along to see how they might do against this rarefied competition.” With legs spread slightly, Clint shrugged in his casual way. “From what I’ve seen, I might do just fine.”
Folding her arms across her breasts as if to conceal them, Cassie declared, “Well, it’s a free world.” She squinted at him, determined not to show the tingling in her body. There were so many questions she was afraid to ask.
“Ah, Cassidy,” he sighed heavily. “Put that Irish temper aside for a moment. It’s good to see you. And you’re happy to see me.”
Fighting her irritation, she offered a small smile and let out the breath she’d been holding since first hearing his deep voice. “Okay. I won’t say I’m happy to see you, but it’s good to see you.” And he did look good, standing there in a fresh white shirt and jeans. His brown Stetson matched his boots. Yeah, Clint Travers cleaned up real fine. Cassie tried not to crumble before his overwhelming masculine presence.
“Well now, that is a start,” he retorted. Walking around Hope, he scrutinized the filly and then ran his hands up and down the filly’s forelegs. He stood to look in the horse’s eyes. With both hands, he pried open her jaws and then gently probed the animal’s tongue and throat. Hope pawed, her eyes flaring, not welcoming the unwanted intrusion.
Cassie waited patiently—he had to have a reason for being so thorough. She knew he wasn’t just avoiding further conversation.
At last he turned to her. Shading his eyes against the late afternoon sun, his facial lines hardening, he said tersely, “I don’t mean to alarm you, Cassidy, but I think this horse has been drugged.”
“What?” Cassie shouted, her eyes widening in disbelief.
“The f
illy’s tongue and throat are constricted; it’s amazing she could run at all.”
“How? Who?” Cassie threw her arms around her horse’s neck. “My god, did someone try to kill her?”
“I doubt that,” Clint said. She watched him take a step toward her. She shrank back. His face remained impassive. “If they had, she’d be dead by now. I expect they just didn’t want her to win. By restricting her air intake passage, whoever drugged the animal was just about assured she couldn’t win against the caliber of horses running out there today.”
Digging her fingernails into her arms, Cassie railed at herself, “I’m so damn naive. Why couldn’t I figure out she was drugged? You just stroll in here out of nowhere and have a diagnosis.”
“You should confirm it with a vet.”
“I’m not doubting your judgment one bit, Clint,” Cassie said, her eyes closing. “It’s just that I’m the trainer. I should have seen it. I should have protected my horse.”
- o -
Clint fought to keep his arms from reaching out to cradle Cassie in his arms. He wanted to very badly. His muscles ached with wanting. But he would not take advantage of her vulnerability. When she was in his arms again, he wanted her there because she couldn’t resist herself and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.
“You’d be surprised,” he said. “Eight out of ten trainers would never suspect their horse was drugged. Guess I’m just a suspicious sort.
“Sometimes you see this kind of thing at high priced auctions. Not only do some despicable folks want to enhance the performance of their horses with drugs, others want to hamper it. That’s one reason the wealthy breeders buy so much security.”
“What can we do now?” Cassie asked, stroking Hope with trembling fingers.
“Well, she’s your horse,” said Clint, edging closer to the woman. “I doubt that anyone will try anything until she races again. But if it were me, I’d take the filly back to your farm. Work her there, and then bring her in the morning of the next race while keeping tight guard around her. Many horses back home run after being shipped in the day of the race with very good results. It happens a lot with higher class horses who get overly excited by crowds and media attention.”
“I’m certainly not going to leave her here alone for even one more night,” Cassie growled. She frowned. “Damn, my trailer is parked next to the barn at home. I hadn’t planned on needing it here yet.”
“You can use mine if you like,” Clint offered, trying to hide his interest in maintaining contact. Any kind of contact. “I could come by and pick it up later, if that seems okay.”
“I couldn’t help but overhearing.”
Both Cassie and Clint turned to see the grim look on Ed Harrington’s face.
He spoke directly to Cassie, ignoring her companion. “Do you really think your horse was drugged? That’s pretty farfetched”
“Yes,” Cassie responded, frowning at Harrington’s latest intrusion. He was obviously checking out the latest stranger on shedrow. She didn’t want him around her or her horse. Especially with Clint Travers standing right there. “It would explain a lot that’s happened over the last few months.”
“And how do you suppose that could happen? We’ve got a lot of security. You should inform the stewards of your suspicions, if you really have any grounds.” Ed looked sideways at the dark man peering at him through smoky eyes.
“Oh,” Cassie said, “I should introduce you. Ed Harrington. Clint Travers. Ed runs a string of horses here. Clint is from Utah. He brought some horses to race here and raises some top quality thoroughbreds at his ranch.”
Cassie was startled by the pride so apparent in her own voice. Clint looked pleased; Harrington looked annoyed. They shook hands warily.
Cassie thought two tomcats meeting in a dark Chicago alley would be more friendly than these two men. Smiling to herself, she had to confess that at times it was fun being female. Was she witnessing jealousy? The last thing she needed was each of them trying to protect her from the other. She had enough troubles without raging male hormones and runaway egos.
Looking back at Cassie, Ed said hotly, “Well, my hunch is you just have a very inconsistent horse that’s often in over her head. But if you think there are other problems, then there are proper channels for dealing with it. Take your complaints to the stewards.”
Cassie looked at him blankly. She knew Clint was taking the measure of the man.
Ed swallowed. “I’ve got to go, Cass. Can’t hold your hand all the time. Got my own horses.”
Before she could offer up a cutting response, Cassie felt a boot squeezing down on her own. Angrily, she looked up into Clint’s solemn face. Almost imperceptibly he shook his head, encouraging her not to rise to Ed’s bait.
“See you later then,” Cassie said, scowling at his retreating back.
Turning to Clint, she asked, “Where’s your trailer parked?”
Slamming the rear door of the trailer shut, she grunted, “That ought to do it. I’ll have Hope in her own stall shortly. You’ve got the directions for finding the farm tomorrow.”
“Got ‘em in my pocket.”
Cassie removed her work gloves. She was not at all pleased with the look he was giving her. It was a questioning look, almost accusing. “All right, Travers, what’s going on in that deceptive mind of yours now?”
His stare softened. “Oh, I was just thinking of the competition. I didn’t know you had a man stashed away here in Chicago interested in your favors.”
“What? Oh. You mean Harrington.” Men, they could make a competition over nothing. “Nope. Only in his dreams and in my worst nightmares.”
“You,” Clint replied coolly, “can be very decisive at times.”
Was he mocking her? She held her tongue.
“Some decisions are easier than others,” he added, “I suppose.”
“What are you trying to say, Travers?” Cassie demanded. His dark eyes filled with an intensity she didn’t want to define. Her heart stopped beating. Well-conditioned muscles seemed incapable of holding her up. Leaning against the pickup, she breathed rapidly.
“I want to be honest with you, Cassidy.” Clint paused, clearly studying her panic reactions.
“Yes,” she whispered. Her emotions were raw, susceptible to every nuance, spoken or unspoken.
“I’m not here just to race horses.” He pushed his Stetson up off his forehead.
“No,” she mumbled, “I didn’t suppose you were.”
Folding his arms across his chest, he declared, “I’ve come for something you took with you.”
“What? I don’t understand.” Although wary, she watched him carefully.
“I’ve come for my heart.”
His coal black eyes filled with an indecipherable, haunting gleam. His words echoed in her brain. Cassie closed the distance between them with three halting steps. She moved into the warmth of his arms. He held her snug against his body. His strong arms felt good. She tried not to cry, but failed. Damn, she couldn’t remember ever crying so much as she had of late.
Clint said no more. He waited.
The summer fling was definitely over, Cassie concluded. Could she open herself to the potential agony of another intimate relationship?
For an instant, she held their shared future in her grasp. He’d taken a huge step by showing up on her turf. Now it was her turn. Her mind whirled. She didn’t want to go backward. Staying in place, in his arms, although desirable, was not an option.
She pushed herself away from him at last. “Clint, I am glad you’re here, but let’s go slowly. I’m not sure of myself. I need time to sort things out.” She saw him go rigid. Fear clutched at her heart.
She ran her fingers through her unruly hair trying to find the right words. Would he reject her because she wasn’t as ready as he was? “Can you give me some time, Clint? I know the road you want to walk. I’m just not sure I can go down that road. It can be such a painful journey.”
Clint’s neck muscles
relaxed a trifle. “I understand. But it can also be the most joyful journey any two people can share. Take however long you need—just don’t shut me out, because I’m not leaving you alone until I know where we stand.”
“I wouldn’t want you to,” she said. Smiling at last, surprised by her own courage, Cassie continued, “Maybe we can take tiny baby steps. But not too many, and not too fast. Why don’t you come by and pick up the trailer tomorrow, and then we’ll take it from there.”
Glancing shyly away from him, she said faintly, “I’d like you to meet my dad. I expect the two of you will find more than a few things in common to talk about.”
- o -
Later that evening, Clint stretched out on the hotel bed weighing next moves. He didn’t want to rush her. If she chose to be with him, then it would be for keeps. He wouldn’t settle for an affair. She was a woman who could challenge him, who could love him deeply—who could be the mother of his children. He’d come to Chicago to pursue her, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Obviously, she carried wounds of some kind—would she ever tell him about them?
He would bide his time. Waiting had finite boundaries--he just didn’t know what they were yet. Probably things wouldn’t be resolved before he had to return to Utah by the middle of the next week. Serious exploration of their future might be impossible until whoever was drugging Cassie’s Hope was caught. He vowed to get to the bottom of that mystery as soon as possible.
CHAPTER SEVEN
While bathing a filly beside the barn, Cassie spied the familiar blue pickup wending its way down the long farm driveway. She inhaled the fresh morning air trying to maintain her balance. Could she really love this near stranger? Could they have a life together spread half way across the country? Could she be an instant mother?
Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) Page 11