Casey's Courage

by Neva Brown

  The day before Thanksgiving, a driver left Casey’s pickup in the back driveway of the Mansion and gave the keys and an envelope to Rosalinda before leaving in a little compact vehicle he had pulled behind the pickup. When Tres drove into the driveway late in the afternoon, a sense of euphoria filled that hollow place inside him. His thoughts raced. It was the right thing to leave her alone and not set a P.I. on her trail.

  When Rosalinda told him how the pickup came to be in the driveway and had handed him the keys and the letter, he’d felt like he had been sucker punched. Dejected, he sank into a chair at the kitchen table and opened the envelope. The letterhead indicated it was from Clyde Jones in the bank at San Angelo. What he read pushed his blood pressure right back to where it was the day Casey had left. The emotional roller coaster he’d been on since she left made him feel like he’d lost control of his life. The urge to pound the table and demand that things get back to normal shocked him.

  “Just what does she think she’s doing playing hide and seek like a kid when she knows Mattie Lou needs her help here at Thanksgiving?” Tres asked.

  “Does she want someone to look for her?” Rosalinda asked.

  “Who knows? It seems all communication must be sent to Clyde Jones, who’s taking care of her affairs while she’s off sulking some place. She’s making a mountain out of a molehill. Jordan and his snobbish wife are gone so things can be just like they were before they came.”

  “From what I heard, Leila called Casey a prostitute and you didn’t set her straight. In the world you once lived in, that may not be a big deal, but in Casey’s world, it’s terrible. You’ve been her idol for years and you failed her when she needed you to stand up for her.”

  Rosalinda’s matter-of-fact tone rocked Tres. How much stock could he put in her assessment of things? Deliver him from women. Only yesterday the private investigator from Dallas had called to tell him Melanie’s son was not his. True, the boy had been conceived while he and Melanie were still engaged, but he belonged to the man she married. The information had lifted a weight of concern off his mind. But now another weight that frustrated him more than he wanted to admit had stymied his plans. His dependable, unassuming Casey was acting like an obstinate female, spoiled brat, and prima donna all rolled into one.

  Tres pushed up from the chair. A strange weariness made him feel old. He patted Rosalinda’s shoulder as he turned to leave the kitchen. “We’ll celebrate Thanksgiving with everybody tomorrow then I’ll see what I can do to set things right with our Casey.”

  On Thanksgiving Day, as everyone was leaving, Tres knew it had been a success even though J.D. had been missed. Yet, he felt no satisfaction. Restlessness nagged at him. He wanted Casey here. She was an intricate part of the Running S. He’d told everybody she went away to do more therapy. They talked about her; what wonders she had done with the Running S horses; how capable she was at anything she did. He suspected they lived vicariously through her successes. She was the bright, golden thread in the tapestry of the Running S story as far as everyone on the ranch was concerned. He wanted to deny it, but knew she’d been the golden thread in all the happenings in his life since he had returned to the ranch. Life had lost its luster without her.

  After an extended conversation with Clyde Jones the next morning, Tres sat motionless. It hurt to realize he had been a major player in driving Casey from the Running S. Clyde had been very professional, but frank, as he explained Casey had reached her limit. The banker’s comment that “She looked fragile, but determined to get her life on a solid footing and move on” made Tres uneasy.

  To his question about her ability to make sound judgments, Clyde’s answer had a subtle accusing undercurrent as he answered. “Her makeup covered most of the signs of crying. But she looked like someone who had lost a loved one. As she told me her situation, she discussed a commonsense approach to what she needed to do. I felt comfortable helping implement her plan and will be in close contact with her. She is safe.” He had diplomatically refused to reveal Casey’s whereabouts, but offered to forward any communication.

  Tres’ thoughts cried out to Casey to come back if only for an hour. To give him a chance to make things right. He knew he’d never needed anybody as badly as he needed her. His relationships with women over the years had made his mind reject the idea of love. But his heart felt differently. He and Casey had never made love, so why did he feel like a part of him had been ripped away, leaving a raw, bleeding wound?

  He stared out the window toward the swimming pool, covered for the winter with no Casey, no laughter, and no bewitching spell to pull him away from work. Mattie Lou’s hand touched his shoulder, calling him back from his thoughts of days he’d stood at this window watching a courageous Casey reclaim her life.

  “It’s not the same without her here, is it?” Mattie Lou asked. “Surprising how such a quiet, unassuming person breathes life into a place.”

  “She has fought so hard to regain her life, overcoming so many problems. I can’t imagine why she’s cut and run over some trivial comments,” Tres said.

  Mattie Lou sighed. “Matters of the heart often defy reason.”

  Tres fumed, “I talked to Clyde Jones. She’s enlisted his help so she can hide from us.”

  “Oh, Tres, it’s not like that. Instinct makes us all crawl into our shell when we’re hurt. We need a place to lick our wounds and heal.” Mattie Lou paused. “You of all people ought to understand that.”

  Tres turned from the window and sat down at his desk. “I can’t just leave her out there. Some things have to be settled. Right now I feel like a part of the Running S has been taken from me.”

  “She probably feels like the only home she’s ever known has been taken from her,” Mattie Lou said. “Did Clyde say he’d send a letter to her if we sent it to him?”

  Tres nodded. “Yes, that seemed to be what he and Casey agreed to do. Going through a third party is not a very satisfactory way to resolve anything. She’s certainly not acting very reasonable.”

  Mattie Lou settled into a big wingback chair and tucked one foot under her. “Maybe not, but just because she has worked like a man and succeeded in a man’s world doesn’t mean the way she thinks or her goals are like a man’s. My guess is, her dreams and goals are very feminine. Her ability to function in both worlds just shows how exceptional she is.”

  He shook his head. “Right now I’m inclined to agree with you.”

  “Why don’t you give some thought to writing down everything you would like to say to her and sending it to Clyde to pass along to her? Maybe she’ll reply and you can move on from there.”

  He frowned. “I’m too old for this kind of foolishness. I don’t like playing games.”

  Mattie Lou’s voice was calm. “Casey probably doesn’t feel like this is a game. It’s the rest of her life she is trying to make decisions about without somebody forever telling her what she ought to do.” When Tres said nothing, she continued as if she had put thoughts of Casey out of her mind. “I came in here to ask if you have time to fly Janelle’s niece and me to DFW this coming Wednesday. We can take a nonstop flight from there to London. We’ll rent a car in London so she can drive us up to Edinburgh then on to my folks before she goes home.”

  “Sure I can. What time do you want to leave?” Tres forced himself to make notes on all the things his grandmother had told him, all the while wishing he were flying to Casey instead of to the Dallas, Ft. Worth, airport. He couldn’t remember ever being so indecisive about the action he should take to get what he wanted.

  Chapter 18

  Casey drove cautiously a short distance behind the Warrens, catching her breath every time she saw their car slip on the spots of ice, but the few miles into town passed without incident. Once at the hospital Casey debated whether or not she should stay with the Warrens. She watched as Mr. Warren trotted along beside the gurney his wife was on, holding her hand and talking to her as the hospital attendants rushed her through the emergency entrance doors.
A quake in Casey’s chest then a tightness that took her breath away made tears come to her eyes. Longing for the gentle care Tres gave her after they got out of Dark Canyon flooded her senses—his soft, quiet words, his touch that soothed when pain woke her, his good-natured grin when she was zonked out on drugs and petulant. She had to get back to her hideaway—be alone to grieve. Promising herself she’s check on the Warrens later, Casey headed back to her mountain retreat.

  As The Jeep chugged up the mountain a few miles out of town, Casey felt the wheels slip on a bad patch of ice beneath the snow-covered road. Keeping a firm grip on the steering wheel and continuing at a slow, steady speed, she rounded a curve just as a van coming from the opposite direction spun out of control, then crashed through the guardrail. Heart pounding as adrenaline surged through her body; Casey heard the brush and young trees breaking as the van skidded down the steep slope, churning up the snow as the vehicle bounced and skidded.

  After making a careful U-turn, she parked near the damaged railing and forced her way through the snow to the edge of the road, then peered over the edge.

  Horror sent adrenaline pumping through Casey. The van teetered precariously, ready to plunge to the bottom of the deep canyon if the bent-over saplings gave way.

  Hands trembling, Casey dragged the longest chain out of the

  Jeep. The weight made her stagger. Her arms and legs quavered as she strained to drag the chain. Someone may fall to their death if you don’t do this, so heave, Casey Mason, heave. Adrenaline surged with the thoughts of someone dying. Her knees threatened to buckle but she crouched and skidded toward a mammoth pine she could use for an anchor. Losing her footing, she landed on her backside and slid the rest of the way. Hoisting herself up, she located the hook on one end of the chain. Remembering her dad’s instructions, she made sure the links were not crimped then encircled the tree down low and clamped the hook over a link, not inside a link. Holding the chain taut, she turned her back to the van and fed the links through her hands tugging with every fiber in her body as she descended in a semi-rappel toward the van as fast as she could.

  A booming male voice coming from the guardrail echoed in the canyon. Casey glanced back. A highway patrolman descended the slope in a sliding run as he shouted, “Whoever’s in the van, don’t move! I repeat, do not move!”

  Flying snow sprayed Casey as the officer skidded to a stop beside her. “Let me do that,” he said as he took hold of the chain. With amazing speed, he reached the rear of the van. He lay flat on his stomach, scratched debris away, then wrapped the chain around the axle and secured it.

  Casey followed him and stood ready to help as he went to the right side of the van and opened the sliding door in a slow, even motion. The crackling sound of the vegetation came sporadically and each time the van edged downward, straining on the chain.

  “Only one at the time move,” the patrolman ordered. “We’ll get you out. The EMTs are on their way.”

  One after another, two teens, both girls, came slowly from the middle seat. The first had a gash above both eyes, while the second was openly crying and holding her right arm. A third girl stumbled as she came from the seat a row back. The van rocked and slipped putting more strain on the chain. The last two girls in the back screamed hysterically as they both tumbled out in panic.

  Sobs from the five girls, who were no more than fourteen or fifteen years old tore at Casey’s heart, but her voice was calm and had a tone of command. “Come away from the van. We need you to start heading up the hill.” Casey gestured behind her to where her Jeep waited.

  “You can all go get in the Jeep up by the guardrail to stay warm if you want to, while I help the patrolman.”

  “But Ms. Heath, our sponsor, is bleeding and unconscious and so is Marcy who was riding in front with her,” one of girls said.

  “You’ll help Ms. Heath and your friend out more by doing as this lady says.” The officer addressed the oldest-looking of the girls.

  After a moment, the girl nodded and told the others to follow her.

  When they were out of earshot, the patrolman eased the door on the right front passenger’s side open where the young girl lay flopped over against the dashboard, then glanced up toward the highway. “I don’t think one chain can hold all this weight much longer. We better get these two out. Now!”

  “Tell me what to do,” Casey said, stepping in close to him.

  Sirens screamed as two ambulances sped up the highway and stopped. The patrolman’s voice boomed out again as he shouted to the four EMTs. “Bring two stretchers and supplies to secure broken bones.”

  The sound of metal grating against metal sent chills all over Casey. The van shifted again, putting more strain on the chain.

  The four EMTs toiled down the steep slope with their equipment, but the patrolman, who had hesitated a second as he gauged the progress of the emergency team, said, “Hold her right leg steady as I lift her out. It seems to have a clean break. We don’t want to make it worse if we can help it.”

  Moving in close, Casey saw the engine of the van had broken through and jammed itself against the legs of the girl and the driver. Casey could see the driver’s legs were tangled with the brake and accelerator pedals and other pieces of metal that had poked through to imprison her legs. Casey shut her mind to the horror and slipped her hands around the blood-streaked legs of the young Marcy.

  The patrolman held the girl’s head and neck in a tight grip with one hand as he slid his arm under her and eased her out while Casey held the leg firmly, moving in unison with him. They laid her on a lap robe he had picked up off the floor of the van. He stripped off his jacket and placed it over her before going to the driver’s side.

  Two EMTs dropped their equipment beside Marcy and made quick work of securing her to the stretcher then went to help the two others with the driver who was trapped by the pedals and metal rods that had forced their way through the van’s inner wall. They secured her left arm and leg in an inflated splint and fastened a brace around her neck then began to work in earnest to get her foot that was jammed under the bent brake pedal.

  The van shifted sideways a fraction. The patrolman growled, “Get her out of there now. This thing is going to the bottom of the canyon.”

  From the passenger side one EMT poured mineral oil over the foot and worked to make it slip while another one leaned over him prying on a pedal with a long metal pole.

  A loud metallic pop and the shudder of the van sent the EMTs into overdrive.

  Stomach knotted with fear, Casey rushed to help the patrolmen, who used a vicious-looking tool, something like giant bolt cutters with teeth, to bend or cut away a piece of metal. She added her weight and all her strength to help press the long handles together. While she and the patrolman strained with all their might, two EMTs angled the unconscious woman’s body in an odd position and tugged.

  Casey heard the sickening crunch of a bone snap but the woman was free. Seconds later the chain broke with a sharp thwack. The van plunged down the mountain to the canyon below.

  From above, Casey heard horrified feminine screams. “We got them out,” Casey called. After an exhaustive climb up the hill, she found them teary-eyed, huddled, watching the events unfold below. “Listen to me,” Casey said firmly, hoping to distract them from the struggle the EMTs were having getting the stretchers up the treacherous slope. “You are all safe, in good hands.”

  An eerie silence hung in the air for a moment, then one of the girls said, “All our stuff is in the van. We need to go get it.”

  “Your stuff is probably scattered all down the mountain.” Casey blew out a frustrated breath. The girls were worried, terrified, and probably in shock.

  “What are we going to do?” the girl wailed.

  “We’re going to the hospital with the EMTs and get all of you checked then wait for information on your friends.”

  Just as the words came out of her mouth, the EMTs and officer crested the top with the stretchers.

 
The girls stared, eyes wide and glassy.

  “Come, let them do their job. I’ll take some of you to the hospital in the Jeep and some of you can ride in the patrol car,” Casey said.

  “We’ll all fit in the Jeep,” the tallest of the girls said with a group agreement in unison. Casey looked at the officer who gave a slight nod. “Go see if you really can fit. I’ll be right there.”

  The patrolman gestured toward the deputy sheriff who was directing traffic around the emergency vehicles. “I’ll get him to call-in and take care of the mess at the bottom of the canyon. And I’ll follow up with you at the hospital so I can get the necessary information for the report.”

  Casey climbed into the Jeep, started the motor, and turned on the heater. “I’m Casey. I’m staying at a cabin farther up the mountain, but my home is in Texas. Where are you from?”

  The question brought the desired results. The girls talked, giving her more information than she had bargained for, but it kept their minds off the near-fatal accident they’d experienced. At the hospital emergency entrance, they tumbled out of the Jeep and rushed inside anxious to know how bad Ms. Heath and Marcy were hurt.

  Of course, they were shepherded into the ER waiting room. Almost immediately a doctor came to see them. Casey had to give him an ‘A’ for not even raising an eyebrow when all five girls wanted to go together to be examined for injuries. One of the girls had a sprained wrist, Aside from that and bruises that would be around for a while where seat belts had held them in place, only the odd bump and scrape along with headaches from stress beset them. After all their minor injuries had been tended, a nurse’s aide took them to a family room near the operating rooms where they could call their parents.