Cassie's Hope (Riders Up)

by Kraft, Adriana

  The girl frowned and then shook her head, shrugging off Cassie’s words. Beaming a bright smile, Daisy turned her attention to Clint. “Who’s your friend, Ms. O’Hanlon?

  “This is Mr. Travers, Daisy, and you can wipe that sloppy grin off your face. He’s none of your business.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Daisy replied. She ducked away, still smiling, obviously having found out exactly what she wanted to know. “See yah.”

  “Smartass kid!” Cassie groused. But she did miss the repartee. It was good to be back in this crazy environment. Then she remembered why they’d come. “Guess we’d better get downstairs and talk to Raul. I’d like to be out of here before lunch is served and more of the kids straggle in.”

  - o -

  Raul Hernandez sat at his desk with papers strewn every which way. Piles of papers took up more floor space than anything else, making the small office feel even more cramped. As soon as he saw Cassie enter, he jumped up to hug her. “So when are you coming back?”

  His voice had an enticing quality. Clint watched the shorter man’s easy smile. Laughter danced in his eyes. Clint decided he liked the fellow, and he didn’t often make such quick decisions about people. He wondered about the rusty ship’s bell that sat on a small bookcase with books stacked on top of one another instead of side by side. And he was curious why the man had chosen to hang on his wall a black and white print of Don Quixote tilting at windmills. The picture, itself, hung at a rakish angle.

  Cassie broke the embrace. “I’m due back in October.”

  “We need you now.”

  “I’ll be back in October.”

  Gesturing toward a couple wooden chairs, he said, “Just set those reports on the floor somewhere. So who is this dude?

  “Raul, I’d like you to meet a friend of mind, Clint Travers. Clint is from Utah and is in the horse business.”

  Clint reached across the desk and the two men shook hands, each quietly assessing the other. “Cass has told me a lot about you,” Clint said. “Most of which is good.”

  “Better be. Welcome to our home away from home.”

  “Tell me, how are things going?” Cassie inquired eagerly. “Are we full? How are the kids doing? Tell me about Lucinda, Ricki, Rex.”

  Clint gave Cassie a sharp look. She really did miss this place. That had been evident when she’d been accosted by the tall thin girl upstairs, who could have been anywhere between fourteen and twenty-four. Clearly, Cassie was loved and respected. Would she ever want to give up this world?

  “More of the same, here,” Raul was saying. “Auditors—too damn many auditors.” He hefted a stack of papers to prove his point. “Grant auditors. State auditors. County auditors. Fiscal auditors. Program auditors. Building auditors. The list is endless. And we’re supposed to be teaching kids about trust?

  “We’re full at an even dozen. Eight boys and four girls. We continue fighting with the state to keep them from overloading us. Lucinda got pregnant while on a home visit. That’s not too surprising. She’s going to keep the baby. Children’s Services says she should give it up. At fifteen, she’s too young to be a mother, they claim.” He lifted and dropped his shoulders. “She’s not too young to get pregnant.”

  Cassie sighed. “So much for all the talking and instruction on abstinence and birth control.”

  “Rex was sent to St. Charles for armed robbery. He’ll very likely finish serving his time as an adult. He finally got what he wanted—to be in the big time.

  “Ricki is our success story of the quarter.” Raul’s tone took on the pride of a pleased father. “He’s doing well at U of I. He’s taking a half-time load while working part-time. He should be eligible for a good scholarship after this first year of proving what he can do, even though his high school record was poor. He wants to be a social worker. Can you believe that?”

  “Yeah, I can believe it.” Cassie turned to Clint. “It’s the Rickis of the world, who make something of themselves despite the projects, the drugs, and the crime, that help us deal with the pain of losing the Rexes.”

  Clint nodded. He knew something about that. The same stories could have been shared about kids he’d known on the reservation.

  “So, young lady, what’s on your mind? I doubt you came by to show off this gorgeous workplace to your friend. And apparently you’re not yet ready to dust off your desk and get back to work.” Raul stroked his mustache.

  Before she could speak, Raul addressed Clint, “Oh, by the way Clint, I’m a happily married man with four kids. Thought I better get that settled. You’re a lot bigger than me.”

  Clint smiled easily.

  “Men!” Cassie snapped. “All right, you’ve had your fun. We’ve had some problems at the track. Clint thought it might be tied into a kid or a family I’ve worked with in the past.”

  “Somebody’s been drugging a horse Cassie is working with,” Clint said. “We were just wondering if anyone has heard of a former resident having a grudge against her.”

  Raul shook his head. “Everybody likes Cassie. She has a good way about her. She can get a kid to change his ways without putting him down.”

  “How about when she went on sabbatical?” Clint probed. “Sometimes kids take that personally.”

  “Yeah, you got a point there. You know something about this kind of work.”

  Clint watched the man stroke his mustache and draw a deep breath as he thought through the names of kids.

  “Sure, there were tears,” Raul said at last. “Maybe…Harold was very angry when you left.”

  Cassie nodded. “I thought he’d get over it quickly enough. We spent a lot of time preparing him for the transition.”

  “It went on for days.” Raul moved papers from one side of his desk to the other. There was pain in his eyes when he glanced back up. “He tore up some games in the day room, ripped apart some of his own personal items, and wrote bitch on your office door. As you might expect, he received a series of consequences for his behavior.” Raul shrugged. “Within two weeks he seemed to have gotten over his anger. You were just one more adult who passed through his short life.”

  Cassie squeezed her shoulders and scowled.

  “So where is Harold now?” Clint asked. “Can we talk with him?”

  Hernandez shrugged, palms upward. “Don’t know. He left here in June. Once they’re out, we don’t hear any more from them. He could be anywhere.”

  “Great.”

  “I doubt he has any connection with the track, though. He’s an urban kid.”

  Chuckling, Cassie said, “And so are about half the people who work on shedrow.”

  “You got me there. Afraid I don’t know much about horses, or the track for that matter, but I do like to go out and bet on the ponies now and then. But I imagine you’re right. Not all the folks who work there are natural cowboys. So, how are you liking it, Cass? Are those four legged beasts going to lure you away from us, or what?”

  Clint tried not to smile as Cassie took her time responding to her boss’ question.

  “I can’t deny some of it’s very satisfying. I love working with horses. But being a full-time trainer is a tough life for anyone, especially for a woman.”

  Clint knew she was purposefully avoiding eye contact with him.

  “No, this is my career,” Cassie continued. “I do miss the kids and the crises. It’s hard to imagine not being a social worker. It’s what I’ve trained to do.”

  “My friend, you’ll use your social work skill whatever you do and wherever you are,” Raul said. He gave Cassie a quizzical look. “I want you back, but I trust you’ll follow your heart, and that will be right for everyone.”

  Cassie’s neck turned crimson. Clint coughed—it hadn’t taken Raul long to pick up on Cassie’s indecisiveness.

  “Well, thanks anyway,” Cassie mumbled. “We’d best be going. You have a mountain of work to do and we have some horses to see to.”

  “Sorry I can’t be more helpful,” Hernandez said, rising to his feet.


  “That’s okay,” Clint interjected. “You’ve been very helpful. We can take it from here.”

  “Hey,” Hernandez shouted from his office doorway. Cassie turned at the top of the stairs to listen. “You haven’t called with a hot tip yet. Remember, I’m a poor man who would welcome a long shot coming in.”

  Smiling, Cassie called back, “Keep your money in your pocket. I don’t know a thing about handicapping horses. I only train them.”

  - o -

  Walking down the stoop, Cassie thought of Harold. She couldn’t prevent a nagging tingling sensation from creeping down her legs. Could the villain at the core of the drugging mess really be Harold? It had to be somebody at the track who was getting to Hope. She hadn’t seen Harold since she’d gone on leave. But the young boy was sixteen, and could have a job anywhere at the track.

  “So, you miss the place,” Clint said, making their way to the car.

  Cassie knew he’d made an assessment. It was a statement, not a question. She looked curiously at him, wondering what he was really thinking and what he really wanted to ask. “I miss it. At least part of it. I miss seeing light bulbs come on when a kid finally gets it. I miss having them come back to show off their first paycheck or some decent grades. I don’t miss seeing them move deeper into the system. Or learning that one of my former kids endangered a life. I imagine I miss the pace some. There’s always a crisis happening. You’re needed every moment of the day.”

  “Sounds like you’re describing parenting.”

  Faltering slightly, Cassie whispered, “I suppose you may be right.”

  “So why did you choose to be a social worker?”

  Cassie laughed. “How much time do you have?”

  “A lifetime.”

  Cassie felt her cheeks burn. “I wanted to be in a position to help people help themselves. I guess I especially wanted to help kids stay out of trouble. My childhood wasn’t done by the textbook, you know, but I was loved and supported, even if I didn’t have a mom. It was important for me to help other kids like myself. To help them feel loved and to know that they could be loved and loving and could study and work hard and be whatever they wanted to be.”

  “So you are a dreamer.”

  “Of course I am,” she said, poking him in the side. “That’s not a banner headline at this point in our relationship.”

  “No, but it’s one of the many aspects about you that I have come to love very, very much.”

  Cassie fumbled with the remote to unlock the car.

  Getting into the passenger side of the car, Clint changed the subject. “I think we should check up on this Harold kid. I can have my private detective buddy do a run on him.”

  Cassie nodded. “Okay, if you think it’s necessary. But I can’t imagine he’d know enough to drug Hope.”

  “We can’t rule him out without checking. He only has to know someone who can do the job for him. My friend is good. If the kid is tied into your troubles, we’ll know about it soon.”

  “Not soon enough,” Cassie groaned, merging into traffic.

  “Hope is coming along real nice. She’ll be primed for Saturday’s race,” Silver Hawk said, admiring the sleek filly moving fluidly about the large paddock.

  “Yeah, it’s only Tuesday, but I’m already anxious about Saturday,” Cassie replied, leaning against the white fence boards. The horse looked like she didn’t have a care in the world. Cassie was envious. “I’ll probably take her to the track on Friday to reintroduce her to the racing surface. And then bring her back here so we can keep an eye on her. Thank goodness Hope trailers easily.”

  Unlike Hope, Cassie carried a burden of worries. Her father’s health seemed to benefit from all the extra attention, yet he had a long ways to go before being in a position to do much but sit and watch the world go by.

  She’d appreciated Silver Hawk’s help with the horses as well as with the kids. Yet, she still felt uncomfortable around the woman. Whenever Cassie looked her, Clint’s sister seemed to be scrutinizing her.

  Cassie heaved a sigh. Maybe her women’s group was right. Maybe she was simply suffering from too much intense self-analysis of late. Maybe it was best to sort of let things happen. She shook her head. She needed to be much more in control of herself than that.

  “I don’t remember when I’ve had more horse under me,” Silver Hawk said. “She moves like a natural athlete. Thanks for giving me an opportunity to exercise her this morning. I hope, for your father’s sake, we can nail the guy who’s trying to destroy his dream.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Cassie said wistfully. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that Clint’s sister connected so easily with her father and his dream. After all, she was a woman who had lived and worked with horses full time probably from the time she could ride. “This may be his last chance. I don’t see any more Cassie’s Hopes in the stable. Dad refuses to go out and buy a contender. And I don’t know how many more seasons he has for this game.”

  “None of us knows that,” agreed the bronze-skinned woman, glancing thoughtfully at the early morning sun. “The past we can’t change, and the future remains a blur. We only have this day.”

  A soft breeze tossed strands of long ebony hair across Silver Hawk’s face, briefly obscuring her features.

  “Yeah,” Cassie responded, “sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball to see past tomorrow. But I don’t, and I can’t.”

  “And what about Clint?” Silver Hawk asked, dropping her voice low. “How many more seasons does he have without the woman he loves? Without you?”

  Cassie stared at the smug questioner and then shook her head. “Damn, I thought Indian women were supposed to be indirect.”

  Silver Hawk laughed easily. Propping a foot on the first fence rail, she replied, “Some are, some aren’t. But then you certainly know about the dangers of stereotypes. Maybe it’s my years at Berkeley. Maybe I don’t want to play at being extra polite.” She paused.

  “My brother loves you.” Silver Hawk turned toward Cassie and folded her arms across her mid-section. “That, I know. So do the kids. Now that I’ve seen you with him and with Lester and Sammy, I know that you love them too. You may be hiding that fact from yourself, I don’t know. You are good for him and I expect he is good for you.” Silver Hawk raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the problem?”

  Cassie struggled to find her voice. Idly, she tugged on a blouse sleeve. She couldn’t find the right words to form an answer.

  “What’s the hang up, Ms. Social Worker? With many white women, it might be the color of our skin,” Silver Hawk said caustically. Her voice softened. “But somehow I don’t think that’s got anything to do with it for you.”

  “No, that’s not it at all,” Cassie stammered, taking a step a back.

  “I know that,” Silver Hawk hastened to respond. “So what is it?”

  “I’m not even certain what it is,” Cassie finally confessed, fighting back tears. “I’m scared, I know that.”

  “Is it the kids? They think you’re very spectacular.”

  “That’s part of it. They’re darlings. And I know they want a mother, but I’m not sure I’m up for handling that kind of responsibility.”

  Silver Hawk nodded, but said nothing.

  Both women watched a mare in the neighboring paddock arch its neck and reach down to nuzzle a spindly-legged foal.

  “There’s so much at stake,” Cassie said, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. “It’s not just me. It’s not just me and Clint. It’s not just the kids. There’s his family. There’s Dad. How could we pull it all off, if we wanted to? Where would we live? What about my career? What of the future? Will I throw everything away only to be rejected again?”

  “Ah,” Silver Hawk said. “We never know how much to risk for the unknown.”

  “I’ve gone through a lot to get what I have. What I have may not be much in the eyes of many. But it’s mine, and it’s safe.”

  “We don’t go out of our way to seek pain. You hav
e much to share with my brother, with his kids, with all of us.” Silver Hawk flashed a hopeful smile. “But it is not a one way street. He—they, we—have much to share in return.”

  Silver Hawk paused and looked to the west. “I’d guess about now, Grandmother would remind us that we are not alone in all of this. Great Spirit has a plan. We often cannot see it clearly. Sometimes we can only feel our way along the path.”

  Cassie closed her eyes, remembering the bent elderly woman. “How do you explain your grandmother?”

  Silver Hawk looked sharply at Cassie and her brow crinkled. Then her eyes, her entire body convulsed with laughter. “I don’t try to explain Grandmother. She is inexplicable. She is simply Grandmother and I accept her and love her as such. You can, too, if you wish. Grandmother has blessed you; you are one of us. What you do with that, only you can decide. Only you can discern your own path.”

  Cassie moved to hug Silver Hawk. How wrong she had been about her initially. Here was a woman she could trust, could lean on if necessary. But would she ever be able to trust the invisible path? How could she trust something she couldn’t hold in her hands?

  “Thank you, Silver Hawk,” Cassie whispered, clutching the woman tightly. “I’ll try to remember your words.”

  “I’ve been doing some research,” Clint announced later that afternoon, placing his laptop computer on the desk in Cassie’s loft apartment. “Maybe this will shed some light on who’s behind the drugging.”

  As the machine booted up humming and flickering, Cassie stepped closer to see what Clint was pulling up on the screen.

  “As you know, the Daily Racing Form maintains a record of every race a horse has run, along with names of other horses, jockeys and trainers, in addition, of course, to the names of winners and so on,” Clint said. “I’ve checked every race Cassie’s Hope has run. Excluding the Wyoming races, four trainers have had horses in each race she has entered. And in each race there were six jockeys in common. Look. Here’s a list of trainers, and next to it is the list of jocks. Any reactions?”