Cassie's Hope (Riders Up)

by Kraft, Adriana

  That’s it! Cassie gasped. It must be the outrider. Why hadn’t they thought of that? She tried to watch closely. Reaching for her binoculars, she quickly had the glasses focused on her horse. But even then, to her dismay, she wasn’t always able to see the outrider’s hands.

  Had she gone to all that work protecting Hope only to have a nameless person, who blended into the track scenery so well that one seldom remembered they were there, bring her filly and their dreams down?

  In contrast to her earlier walk from the barn to the paddock, Hope was not up on her toes. Her ears did not perk forward. Cassie could almost see the energy draining out of the horse. Something was wrong. There was no question about it. The horse had changed dramatically in the last five or ten minutes.

  Someone somehow had gotten to her. Cassie put away the glasses. It was too late. Her balled fists ground into her thighs. Once again she’d let everyone down: her horse, her dad, herself, even Clint.

  Why the hell wasn’t he here?

  The running of the race held no surprises. Hope ran a dismal sixth in a field of ten. Only able to pass a few tiring horses at the close of the race, Cassie’s Hope did not appear to belong with these quality horses.

  Dejected, Cassie led Hope back to the barn area to rub her down with alcohol and to give her some water before taking the defeated filly home. She desperately wanted to be back at the farm. She didn’t want to talk to anyone at the track.

  - o -

  During the drive back to the farm, while she did her evening chores, and long afterward, Cassie railed at herself. She had failed. Maybe Harrington was right. Maybe she was in over her head.

  Clearly, she wasn’t good enough to train a horse and keep it safe from interference. Why had she ever left her secure social work world?

  She wanted out. Now! To hell with six month agreements. Cassie paced wildly up and down the stable aisle muttering softly, cursing loudly, searching for a way out. Any way out.

  If Cassie’s Hope had a future, then someone else would have to step up and work with her.

  Why the hell wasn’t he here on the day she needed him most?

  That’s not fair. He has other responsibilities. She didn’t want him to run out on his commitment to his kids. Her mother had done that—she didn’t wish that on anyone, especially Lester and Sammy.

  Cassie paused. Stepping into the small office tack room, she collapsed in the old swivel chair. Life seemed so confused. So cruel. Where did she fit?

  In his arms.

  No!

  She laid her head on the desk and cried. Her body heaved and sighed. She had to make some decisions, and quickly. Things would be better if she could just be decisive.

  Her father would be disappointed. Clint might be angry. But she had to regain some control over her life. She had to give up some of the baggage.

  Mercifully, she drifted off to sleep.

  Later that evening, Cassie slumped in the living room leather chair across from her father. He wasn’t heaping blame on her. In some ways, that made matters worse. If he’d blame her, it would be easier to quit. Maybe she should get in her car and drive back to her apartment. She scowled. Even that wasn’t an option—her sublease still had several months to go.

  At least her dad acknowledged that Hope was probably doped again, although he didn’t seem particularly moved by the outrider theory. He seemed more upset that his doctor forbade him from going to the track.

  “Can’t give up now, girl,” he admonished, flashing an eyebrow at her. “We still have one more race before the Lincoln to smoke out the bastard who has it in for us.”

  Sinking further into the chair, Cassie nodded abjectly.

  “Sort of wish Travers was here,” Tug said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He’s got a good head on his shoulders when it comes to deviousness. Wonder what he would make of this mess now?”

  “I don’t know.” She hesitated. Should she share what she’d heard? “Ed Harrington thought maybe Travers was behind this whole thing, as a way to get me to quit training and move out west with him.”

  “Humph. That’s pure foolishness, if I’ve ever heard it.”

  “But…” Cassie struggled under a wave of mixed feelings. She had to say it. “He could certainly buy someone to do the job. What if I’m being played for a fool? You said yourself that it’s only you and me that we can trust.”

  She hadn’t seen her father’s eyes so sad since he was in the hospital. He shook his head. “I didn’t mean to leave Clint out. Harrington is just trying to be a busybody and cause trouble where there’s no reason for it.”

  “So you think we can really trust Travers?”

  “Damn, love is blind.” He laughed out loud.

  She felt heat rise to her cheeks.

  “Thinking Travers is the villain is ridiculous. You’re mixing your personal stuff up with this. You’re acting like some young green filly. You just don’t want to trust your own gut.”

  Glaring at her father, Cassie sat up straight. “And what makes you such an expert on female-male relationships?”

  He met her challenge with a cough and cackle. “I’m no expert about that stuff, and you know it, but I do know my own daughter fairly well.”

  “Yes, you do seem to know which buttons to push and which strings to pull.” She rubbed the smooth leather arm of her chair. “I don’t even know what I’m feeling. Something crazy is going on here.”

  She glanced over at his knowing look. “You’re right, it’s not all about horses.”

  “Promise me one thing, girl,” he implored. “Don’t give up on yourself. You’ve got too much grit in you to do that. You’ve got too much of me flowing through your veins to allow that to happen.”

  “You old sentimental egotist,” Cassie chided with a giggle. She wasn’t completely satisfied with staying on, but her dad had worked another of his miracles. He’d gotten her to laugh at herself and their situation. “I’ll be okay. Don’t you worry about that. The O’Hanlon fire hasn’t burned out yet. We’ll figure all of this out, one way or the other.”

  Sitting back in her chair, Cassie was pleased to see the relief in his eyes; she wished she was more certain of her own words. Who was right? Her father, or Harrington?

  Could she truly trust Travers? From the beginning she’d questioned their relationship, but she’d never doubted Clint’s integrity. Why now? Maybe her dad was right. Maybe she just had to trust her gut. But her gut was spinning in so many directions she sometimes felt like a top twirling out of control.

  Get a grip, girl, there’s a lot riding on your decisions over the next two weeks before Hope’s next race. Now is not the time to panic. Now is not the time to cave in. Relationships would have to take a back seat.

  In the small apartment loft over the stable, Cassie sat on the bed with her back against pillows, sipping wine, pondering her future.

  Surprisingly, talking with her father had helped lift her spirits. There was no way she’d allow herself to let him down. Six months she had agreed to, and six months it would be. But not a day more.

  And he was right. There was no way Clint would betray her by sabotaging the horse. Furthermore, Hope had probably been drugged before she’d ever even met Clint. So why had she been so weak to even consider such a possibility? Was it a sign of how much he scared her? Damn Harrington, anyway.

  It was good to hear her father express his confidence in her spunkiness and training skills.

  But why did she feel splintered and ready to crumble? Nothing seemed clear. Nothing fit—whether it was evidence about the drugging problems, or her feelings about the handsome rancher from Utah. Perhaps there were too many puzzle pieces. Or maybe some trickster had stolen a key piece or two.

  Cassie appreciated the simple pleasure of the flow of wine easing down her throat. Closing her eyes, she could envision that devilish look on Clint’s face when he thought he knew something she didn’t, or when he was about to play a trick on her. It was the same look she’d seen on L
ester’s face when he asked about being at their wedding.

  Her cell phone rang, as she knew it would. She also knew who was calling at this hour.

  “Hello,” she said weakly. Her voice must sound like something disembodied coming from a dark cave.

  Clint didn’t hesitate. “Hello, Cassie. How are you? How was Hope today? How many lengths did she win by?”

  Amazed at how many questions the normally quiet man could get off in one breath, Cassie answered somberly, “She didn’t win. It happened again.”

  All was quiet on the other end of the line.

  Finally, Clint said, “Tell me about it, Cass. What went wrong?”

  She told him her story. It felt rote by now. That wasn’t a bad feeling, given how the rest of her emotions were tumbling over themselves.

  When she’d finished retelling the events of the day, she hugged her knees, pulling the extra-large Bears T-shirt down to her toes, waiting for his immediate analysis. To her surprise, there was none.

  “I’m sorry, Cass.” His voice cracked. “I’ll be there next time we race. Maybe together we can figure this thing out. You did all anyone could do.”

  Cassie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. There was no accusation in his tone. No bravado suggesting that if he’d been there things would have gone differently. He seemed just as perplexed by the situation as she was.

  “Dad wants to give Hope a little break, so we won’t race her for three or four weeks. That will still give us two weeks before the Land of Lincoln.”

  “Good. She probably needs a rest. That’ll give me time to get things in order here so I can be away. Not that I like the idea of being away from you that long.”

  “Do you have anything particular in mind to protect Hope?”

  “Not yet,” he allowed. “Don’t know whether we can protect the horse, but I bet we’ll find the bastard who’s doing this.”

  His determination and confidence were reassuring, but she had her doubts. “If we don’t catch him this time, it’ll be too late for the Lincoln.”

  “I know. I think at the very least, we’re going to have a number of eyes on that filly. Somebody is getting to her between the barn and the starting gate. That narrows things down a bit. So much for the horse. How are you doing, Cassidy?”

  Cassie smiled at the concern caressing her ear. “I’m doing okay, now. Dad gave me an O’Hanlon pep talk. I’ll survive. He wishes you were here, by the way.”

  “I do, too,” was the immediate response. “What about you, Cass? Do you wish I was there?”

  “Yes, I do. But,” she confessed, “I’m not sure why.”

  “I’ll be there three days before the next race. If I come much earlier, I’d need to be back here when you’ll need me the most.

  “I don’t know about need,” Cassie cautioned, not willing to commit as much as he wanted to hear. “It will be good having you here race day. Another set of eyes can’t hurt.”

  “I’d thought of bringing Lester and Sammy with me. Both of them have been arguing their case. They want to see Chicago. And they’d like to spend more time with you.”

  Had the room suddenly become smaller? Cassie found it difficult to breathe, never mind speak. Her muscles ached from fatigue. Those dark eyes, floating in her memory, were watching so intently—were they filled with accusation, with sadness, with laughter?

  “Cass? Are you still there?”

  “I’m here,” she barely managed to mumble.

  “Don’t worry about the kids,” he said cheerily. “They love you already. I won’t bring them this time. If we’re going to catch a crook or two, I don’t want them in the middle of it.”

  This time. The words were imprinted on her brain. Would there be another time? Did she want another time? How could she be so afraid of two little kids? Because they could twist her heart just about as many ways as their father could.

  “Cassidy?”

  “Yes?”

  “I’m not going to let you run away like some wild mustang, but I won’t push you. I love your spirit the way it is. Please don’t overanalyze us until there’s nothing left.”

  “I’m trying hard not to,” she said. “But you’re so sure where things are headed, and I’m so uncertain. I don’t see how it can work out.”

  “Just don’t rush to that conclusion. That’s all I ask.”

  “I won’t, I promise…I have to go, Clint.” Her voice wavered, surely giving away her emotional confusion. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Oh, hold on. I almost forgot. Grandma has a message for you. She said Tell the fire woman to trust only her heart. Not what she sees or hears. Only her heart. Good-bye, Fire Woman. I miss you.”

  Cassie heard the distinct click at the other end of the line. She stared at the phone in her hand so long that it took the repetitive whine of the dial tone to bring her back to reality.

  Listen only to her heart. That might be good advice for people who knew how to listen to their hearts. She was beginning to question her own ability to do so.

  Then she smiled. How different was Clint’s grandmother’s advice from her own father’s? She felt the blood stirring in her veins. That was Irish blood flowing. Certainly, the Irish could be counted on, when the chips were down, to listen to the heart. She’d never been afraid of passion before—but then, passion had never before threatened to unravel her entire life.

  She’d be okay. She knew that. Now if she could only calm those feelings of lust. At that moment, she didn’t want Clint Travers to be fifteen hundred miles away.

  She wanted him right next to her, in her bed. She wanted to feel his strong arms holding her, to feel his tongue licking her neck while he rolled a nipple between his thumb and finger. Cassie closed her eyes, welcoming the warmth flowing from her loins to her breasts. Even thinking of him had that effect.

  But it wasn’t enough. She needed to kiss his lips, to massage his taut muscles, to feel him responding to her need and to his own. Cassie’s eyes popped wide open. Was this love? She sighed. “Maybe,” she whispered, shivering, smiling weakly.

  CHAPTER NINE

  “It’s been ages since we’ve been out here together,” Silver Hawk said, glancing away from the expansive vista of high desert to eye her brother.

  “Too long,” Clint muttered, knowing his sister had much more on her mind than the beauty of the Utah landscape.

  They’d ridden four miles from the ranch house to a place that had been special to them all their lives: Wild Horse Mesa. It was on this mesa table top where they’d shared dreams of places far away, of a horse ranch that would rival any, of a better life for their people. It was here where they’d come on special occasions to greet Great Spirit and to seek assistance when times were difficult.

  “You’re wondering if your fire woman could handle living out here, aren’t you?”

  Distracted from his remembering by her probing, Clint turned in his saddle to glare at his sister. The compassion evident in her eyes immediately eased his tension. They might be able to conceal their inner feelings from others, but seldom from one another. “I don’t know. I don’t think I could live in a big city all the time. I don’t know about Cassidy—whether this ranch would be enough for her, whether she’d be satisfied here.”

  The woman frowned. “Have you asked her?”

  “No. We haven’t got that far. She’s very wary about anything permanent. I think she’s afraid she’ll be like her mother, that she’d feel trapped and want to escape.”

  “That’s a shame.” Silver Hawk leaned over to pat her horse’s neck. “But then maybe it’s for the best. You two seem so different in so many ways. She’s the sophisticated city person. A social worker, no less. That’s all we need around here, another do-gooder.”

  Clint scowled.

  “I’m sorry,” Silver Hawk said, leaning over and placing a hand on his arm. “You know I can be too quick with my tongue, and too quick to judge.” She paused. “From what mom and grandmother say, she sound
s like a delightful person who may be just what you need. And Lester and Sammy can’t stop talking about the red haired woman who read them bedtime stories. And she does seem to know horses.”

  “Yeah, better than she thinks.” Clint noticed their mounts swishing tails at buffalo gnats and shifting weight comfortably from foot to foot, taking advantage of their respite. “There are moments when I believe she’s the strongest woman I’ve ever met, and then there are times when she sells herself way too short. Like now, she seems to think she’s totally responsible for failing to achieve her father’s dream.”

  Clint relayed the saga of Cassie’s Hope trying to run while drugged.

  “That’s terrible. Who would do such a thing to a horse—and to an old man? And why?”

  “I’ve never been so torn,” Clint said. “I want to be with her to do what I can about the filly, and to convince her we have a future together. But I promised Lester and Sammy I wouldn’t be away large chunks of time, especially in the summer.”

  “Why not take them with you? That’s about all they can talk about. Going to Chicago. Seeing Ms. Cassidy in her place.”

  Clint chuckled. “I think they’ve lobbied everyone in the family. I’d take them, if it weren’t for having to play cops and robbers. Thought about asking mom to go along with them, but she’d be like a fish out of water, and I doubt she’d consider leaving Grandmother at this time anyway.”

  “Of course not.” His sister scrunched her face in several directions before continuing. “You haven’t asked me.”

  “You? Why, you never leave the high desert. You don’t even like her,” Clint said, his eyes narrowing.

  “Hah. I never said I didn’t like her. I’m just doubtful it will work between the two of you. But I may be wrong. Certainly the kids want to go. And it’s not like I’ve just stayed down on the reservation. I spent two years,” she said, holding up two fingers, “if you will remember, at Berkeley. The city isn’t a world that I want to make my own, but I can manage in it. Well, at least for a short periods.