Cassie's Hope (Riders Up)

by Kraft, Adriana

  She reached for the phone and then saw how late it was. She would sleep on her discovery and tell Clint in person at breakfast.

  Although she was exhausted, Cassie’s mind continued to whirl, keeping sleep at bay. The night seemed long already, and it wasn’t even midnight.

  As she reached for the romance novel on her bed stand, Cassie heard a vehicle winding its way down the driveway. Was something wrong at the track? Had Daisy had another crisis? In either case, someone would have called. Then she recognized Clint’s truck and a thrill pulsed through her body. Already, she could feel dampness between her inner thighs.

  Rushing to the door, she held it open and watched Clint climb the stairs two at a time. “Welcome, my midnight lover. Am I ever pleased to see you,” she sang out in what she hoped was her most sultry voice.

  Without speaking a word, Clint brushed by her outstretched arms, stepped to the center of room, turned, and glowered at her. His dark eyes were colder than ice. His nostrils flared. His tightly compressed lips contained no evidence of love. His hands flexed in and out of balled fists.

  Cassie closed the door, involuntarily pressing her backside against it. “You look terrible. What’s wrong?” she squeaked, aware of the trace of fear in her voice.

  He said nothing.

  “Let me hold you,” she offered, breaking the heavy silence and stepping toward him.

  She backed up immediately when his arms flew out to keep her at a distance. Her own anger began to flicker. “If you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, how am I supposed to help?”

  “You, help? That’s a cruel joke.”

  The silence was deafening, but Cassie waited.

  “So,” he said tightly, “you’ve got it all figured out. You think I’m the man behind drugging the filly.”

  “What?” Cassie’s hands clenched together, grinding at the terrible growing knot in her stomach. “That’s silly. I’d never believe that. Who told you that?”

  “Your father believes he had to dissuade you from that possibility.” Clint’s voice was flat and emotionless. “Another man—Harrington—appears to have more influence over you than good sense.”

  “That’s not true,” Cassie protested, finding her voice at last. A cold dread seeped through her pores. She could see their future, or their lack of one, written so plainly on his face, hear it in his voice.

  “Don’t lie to me.” He took a step forward.

  She could feel the hard steel of his anger. And she began to catch a glimmer of his overwhelming sense of betrayal.

  Be calm, she told herself. Let the anger wash over you. He doesn’t mean to hurt you. “It’s true that Harrington was suspicious about you, but I told him that was nonsense.”

  “Your dad didn’t seem to hear it that way.”

  Would he believe anything she said? He’d already called her a liar. “Dad and I were sharing hypotheses. I told him what Ed said. That’s all.” Trying to break the tension, Cassie eased from under his stare to sit in a chair next to the bed. Her legs were shaking so hard she had to sit down, no matter how he might interpret her behavior.

  “And I was a hypothesis?”

  “There was a kernel of a possibility that you wanted me so much you could do something that devious,” she said softly, trying not to provoke him further, but desperately wanting him to understand the quandary she’d been in. He’d gone back to Utah, Hope had lost again, and she’d been in despair over Hope and her father’s dream.

  Looking back, she knew she’d been more than a little vulnerable to Harrington’s suggestions. But Clint’s reaction was going beyond the pale.

  “That dastardly, don’t you mean?” He stepped to her chair, leaned over, and lifted her chin. “I don’t need a woman, any woman, bad enough to drug a horse.”

  He stepped back quickly, as if he’d touched a hot stove. “Lady, I don’t know what game you’ve been playing with me, but it’s over. I thought whatever else happened, we trusted each other, had something we could build on. I see I’ve been sorely mistaken.”

  “So…it’s over,” Cassie said cautiously.

  “That’s what you wanted all along, isn’t it?” His steely gaze froze her in place. “You’ve wanted out of this relationship all along, and didn’t have the guts to say so.”

  “That’s not true.” How many times could she say that? Had he heard anything she said?

  “What about the kids? Do I at least get to say goodbye to them? Or am I to be placed in a dungeon, to recite my litany of sins?” Surprisingly emotionally intact, Cassie folded her hands and held them politely in her lap.

  “The kids are back in Utah by now,” he said with an air of smugness. “They left this afternoon. They didn’t need to say goodbye.”

  “You bastard!” Cassie leapt off the chair. “You go out of your way so I can get close to your family, and then you just pull the rug out from everyone.”

  She faced him squarely. “What are you doing here, Mr. Travers? Why aren’t you back in Utah? Did you enjoy pulling legs off of insects when you were a kid? I don’t need this shit!”

  Pushing up the sleeves of her Bears shirt, she said coldly, “And I’m not going to take it from you, or anyone else. You can get out of here right now and out of my life forever. Thank you very much.” Cassie marched toward the door and swung it open wide.

  “Not quite yet, but not soon enough, you can be assured,” Clint retorted. “There’s some unfinished business. I won’t leave until I clear my name. There will be two video cameras on your horse Saturday. I’ll be operating one of them.”

  “I don’t need your help, goddammit!” Cassie stood her ground, still holding the door wide open. “I want you out of my life, now.”

  “It’s not lady’s choice this time,” Clint said evenly, his eyelids narrowing to slits. “Believe me, I’m not doing this to help you. I’m doing it to regain my honor.”

  “Honor. That’s about the dumbest thing I’ve heard yet.” Cassie rolled her eyes skyward. “I can assure you, you’ve really handled this whole fiasco in a most honorable way.”

  Clint stepped over the threshold. “You probably don’t know much about honor, but it’s something very important to me. I’ll be there on Saturday. You can count on that.”

  He reached for the door. “Better watch out, lady. If you’re drugging your own horse, the cameras won’t lie.” He closed the door behind him.

  Cassie’s book crashed against the wood frame.

  Too devastated and resentful to cry, Cassie lay on her bed trying to feel something positive about the man who had just stormed out of the loft. No such feelings came.

  How could he think she believed he was trying to bring her down—and why wouldn’t he listen? She understood part of his sense of betrayal, but his anger went far beyond that.

  What about honor? She’d honored him more than any man. She’d honored him with her body. She’d honored him with her love. She’d honored him with her trust. But he didn’t see it that way. And then her tears began to flow.

  He’d been so quick to judge, giving her no chance to explain. And he’d sent the kids away, as if she were some kind of demon. Now she’d never be able to hold those children and watch them grow.

  The bed was covered with tissues before Cassie resolved to get on top of things. If he wanted to be so damn stubborn, fine. They’d catch the culprit who’d been drugging Hope and go their separate ways. That was the way he wanted it. That was the way she wanted it.

  She’d been getting along quite fine before she’d ever met the damn cowboy. She would simply go back to where things were before she met him.

  She threw two pillows across the bedroom as she flashed on Clint’s parting accusation—that she might be drugging Hope herself. “The nerve of that stupid, stubborn son of a bitch who thinks he’s so damn honorable. We’ll see about honor. The Irish know something about honor, too. We don’t confuse it with spiteful pride.”

  Feeling like some sort of zombie, Cassie went through
the motions the next morning of supervising her horses’ exercise at the track and then at the farm. She tried to stay busy. She tried to keep her mind from functioning.

  At ten o’clock, the barn phone rang, intruding on her desire to be alone. Never knowing if there was a problem with a horse at the track or with Daisy, she had no choice but to answer.

  Could it be that he was calling to apologize? “Fat chance of that happening,” she muttered, making her way down the barn aisle toward the phone in the tack room.

  “Hello,” she mumbled into the receiver, slumping against the small desk.

  “Is that you, Cassie?”

  The feminine voice slowly penetrated Cassie’s fog.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” she sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” Traci Steele asked. “You sound like you shouldn’t be out of bed.”

  “Just not a good day,” Cassie said, not wanting to disclose the real cause of her depression. “How are you?”

  “Don’t try to change the subject,” chastised the voice on the other end of the line. “We’ve been buds for too long. Something bad has happened. It’s not your father?”

  “No.”

  “Did you have an argument with Clint?”

  Silence filled the airwaves.

  “That’s it! Isn’t it? Tell me, Cass.”

  “It’s over,” Cassie said. “He thinks I believe he’s the one behind drugging Hope. I couldn’t change his mind. He stormed out of here late last night.”

  Traci waited patiently.

  “Traci, he sent the kids back home without letting them say good-bye to me.” Cassie sobbed. “Why couldn’t he at least let me say good-bye?”

  “Cass, listen to me,” Traci said emphatically. “I’m coming right out to pick you up. Change into a loose fitting blouse, shorts, and tennis shoes. Make sure you have your bathing suit on underneath it.

  “Pampered decadence is what I’m aiming for. We’ll spend the rest of the day on Dad’s sailboat. We were out over the week-end and everything is shipshape. I’ll arrange for catered food so we won’t have to bother much with lunch or dinner. If you want to talk, that’s great. If you just want to sit back and feel the movement of the boat that will be fine too.”

  “I can’t…”

  “Nonsense, you’re not going to get much done there moping around. You don’t have to go through this alone. I insist.”

  Cassie recognized the determination in the other woman’s voice. She knew she’d be doing the same thing if the tables were turned.

  “I thought I was the social worker,” she protested. “You’re supposed to be an uncaring lawyer.”

  “Right. Go get showered and I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”

  “What about your appointments? Your work?”

  “You’re my only appointment. See you.”

  Cassie held the phone in her hand. Again she wept. She cried for Clint and herself, for the kids, and for friendship.

  Nearing the harbor, Cassie decided there were at least a number of good reasons for having a rich friend. Traci had been her pal since college days. Her father was a well known and well-heeled lawyer with offices in the loop. He specialized in corporate law.

  Glancing over at her tall, dark haired friend, Cassie wondered when Traci would finally take the initiative to break away from her father and do what she wanted to do. Traci wanted to practice criminal law, and one of the best ways to begin would be working in the county prosecutor’s office.

  Strangely, her friend was often more stubborn than she herself, yet Traci found it extremely difficult to challenge the wishes of her father. He’d wanted a son, but got a daughter. He wanted an heir to his practice, but she wanted something different. Cassie knew Traci loved her father a lot, perhaps too much. Someday there would be a reckoning between the two of them. That would be a good day for everyone else to duck.

  “Here we are,” Traci announced, smiling confidently. “What great weather for sailing. A gentle breeze, but no strong wind and plenty of sunshine. Though it’ll be a lot cooler out on the water than here.”

  Conversation was sparse as the two women prepared for their sail. Cassie appreciated that.

  Traci maneuvered the thirty foot sailboat through the harbor toward the open lake. Cassie, sitting to one side of the boom and feeling rather unneeded, smiled at her friend’s efficient movements. There was no wasted effort. It was as if her legal mind had to do lists for sailing, and each task was being checked off in order.

  At last they were under sail. They skimmed across the water with very little resistance. There wasn’t much for Cassie to do but breathe deeply and watch the Chicago skyline recede. “Watch your head,” Traci commanded, “we’re going to change direction.”

  Cassie ducked as the boom came across overhead.

  “All right, we’ll tack this line for awhile,” Traci said. “Once we’re out a ways, we can drift, and I’ll go below to get the food out.”

  “Won’t you let me do something?”

  Traci gave her a whimsical smile. “You just sit here and take in the sunshine and the lake breeze. I’ll take care of the rest. Do you need more sunscreen?”

  “Thanks.” Cassie opened the offered bottle and rubbed more oil into her skin. Leaning back, she closed her eyes and let the sun bake the lotion into her heated pores. She felt like she was sizzling. Relaxed for the first time in hours, she dozed off as Traci puttered below.

  “Bet you could use some nourishment,” Traci said half an hour later.

  Soft sounds of Celtic music drifted into Cassie’s awareness and she labored to open her eyelids. When she did, she saw that Traci had deposited a platter of food on a deck table. Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten anything since last night’s half-eaten dinner.

  With the corners of her mouth turned up, Cassie said, “You really did things up royally, didn’t you?”

  “Well,” her friend admitted, “I never can remember if one feeds a cold and starves a fever or vice versa, but I do know you feed with care a broken heart.”

  Cassie nodded agreement and reached for the boiled jumbo shrimp. There were apple slices, carrots, cauliflower, mushrooms and a variety of dips. If this was lunch, she wondered what the catered dinner would be. “I see you’re going to feed me healthy.”

  “Of course,” replied Traci. “No man is worth getting fat over.”

  Cassie looked blankly at her friend and then laughed. It felt good to laugh. Laughter could cure most anything.

  “So. Do you want to talk about it? It might help.”

  “I know. And I really appreciate all that you’re doing, Traci. You’re a treasure.”

  Before she drowned again in her own tears, Cassie provided a blow by blow description of her midnight encounter with Clint Travers. Oddly, hearing herself recount the event provided some emotional distance. To her surprise, she had no tears until she spoke about him sending the kids home without letting them say good-bye.

  “Sounds like you’ve been to hell and back!” Traci said.

  Cassie nodded, fighting back the tears. She hugged herself. Traci moved to put an arm around her.

  Sobbing, Cassie keened, “What must they think of me? Lester and Sammy. They don’t deserve to be hurt by our pride and stupidity.”

  “Kids are more resilient than we think. Look at me. Look at you. I’m sorry they might be sad and not understand, but it seems to me that the pivotal piece here is you and your rancher friend. Do you see any hope?”

  “None. His honor, his pride is much bigger than us.”

  “Hmm. Keep in mind,” Traci chided gently, “that you’re seldom in short supply when it comes to honor and pride.”

  Cassie gave her friend a half smile and a nod. “I know. But this is different. He won’t come back. That’s for sure.”

  “Then how are you going to put him behind you and move on?”

  “I don’t know.” Cassie became sharply aware of the agonizing frustration in her voice. Numbness paralyzed her body
and mind. She hated not knowing which way to turn. She’d had no warning—it all happened just when everything seemed so full of promise and hope.

  “I know I’ll move on in time,” she continued. “I always do. The timing was all wrong. First he wanted to get closer, and I ran away from him and from thinking about being a mother. I can’t believe it fell apart just when I decided I take on being a mother. He never gave me time to tell him that when he stormed into my apartment.”

  Traci handed her friend a tissue.

  Cassie blew her nose loudly. Damn, she wished she’d never met the man. That she’d never gone to Wyoming. That she’d never agreed to train Hope.

  She shook her head vigorously. She couldn’t lie to herself. Even though it wasn’t going anywhere now, meeting Clint Travers and working with Hope had been exciting, and she wouldn’t want to have missed either. Even with all the pain.

  Wincing with a new realization, Cassie resumed, “The problem is, it isn’t over. He’s going to stay around until we catch whoever is drugging Hope. He’ll be scathing to be around. I should just pull Hope from the race, but I can’t do that. That would be the end of Dad’s dream.”

  Stretching her long legs out, Traci ventured, “I expect you deserve that shot as much as anyone, Cass. You’ve put your heart and soul into that horse. I don’t pretend to understand why, but I know it’s important to you, and I’ll support you any way I can.”

  “I know you will. There’s not much anyone can do. All the cards are on the table. The game just has to be played out to its conclusion.”

  “I wonder about that. In my work, just as in yours I assume, when two parties have a blow up usually each person thinks they’ve been crystal clear in communicating while they have not completely heard the other. You may think all the cards were on the table, but if Clint was here, he’d probably say some were face down.”

  Cassie shrugged offhandedly, somewhat annoyed that her friend probably had her finger on something. Maybe she should have been quicker when she saw him climbing the stairs. Quicker to declare her love. And to say how much she wanted to mother his children.