Cassie's Hope (Riders Up)

by Kraft, Adriana

  But she’d been surprised by his coming to her in the middle of the night, and she’d hesitated and played sultry instead. And then it was too late. He assumed she was using him. She hadn’t been able to penetrate his anger and hurt. Oh well, it didn’t matter now.

  “How about a nap? We can swim later in the afternoon, if you like,” Traci suggested.

  Welcoming Traci’s effort to provide her with more down time, Cassie readily agreed.

  In only minutes, Cassie put on more lotion, rolled over on to her stomach, and luxuriated in the warm caress of the sun. It wasn’t the caress she remembered best, but it would have to do.

  She lay there thankful for the skipper of this little excursion. Traci had done exactly what was needed. She’d plied her with ample sunshine, food, and silence. She’d also gotten her to tell her story. And while Traci seldom gave direct advice, she was usually quite insightful.

  The lawyer typically shied away from examining feelings, keeping her own under tight restraint. Although they knew each other well, Cassie remained curious about what must smolder beneath Traci’s often icy exterior. But today she’d provided just the right balm for Cassie’s wounds.

  The sun was disappearing in the west before they began to sail back to the harbor. Still hurting but refreshed, Cassie knew she could deal with whatever came her way. The next few days wouldn’t be easy, but she would make it through them.

  “The blood red sun setting behind the skyline makes the city look like it’s on fire,” Traci said, redirecting Cassie’s attention. “It’s a sight I’ve seen over and over again, but I’m awed by it each time.”

  Amused, Cassie allowed herself to remember with gentleness the bent old woman who had named her Fire Woman. What would Clint’s grandmother make of this debacle?

  - o -

  Meanwhile, Clint had been busy. He’d moved out of the Palmer house early in the morning. There was no need for such spaciousness or luxury since the kids were gone. And he wouldn’t be bringing any woman there.

  He’d moved into an economy hotel near the track. The place offered horsemen’s specials.

  By noon he’d returned the rental car and picked up his truck from the track. When he left this time, and he hoped to God it would be soon, he would transport his horses back to Utah. There was no reason to leave them in Chicago. He wasn’t coming back.

  Numb, he drove his pickup north on I-94. He wasn’t headed anywhere in particular. He just needed to get out of Chicago…away from her and everything that reminded him of her.

  Even with the pedal pressed to the floor, his pickup had a hard time doing eighty. Fence posts blurred. He wished memories could blur as readily.

  Crossing the Wisconsin border, Clint slowed down to seventy. The state patrol was famous for nabbing out of state speeders. Even in his dazed sense of reality, he knew he didn’t want to be pulled over.

  It wasn’t the fine he was worried about. He might not be able to maintain a civil attitude with a cop. That could only spell trouble, and his cup overflowed with enough trouble already.

  When he saw signs indicating Milwaukee was only twenty miles ahead, he muttered aloud, “Damn, I don’t need another city.”

  He took the first exit west and found himself shortly driving through rolling green hills.

  He’d really believed she was the one. She’d given him new life. And then she’d snuffed it out like it hadn’t mattered a whit. He wished to hell he hadn’t exposed his kids to the red-haired devil.

  The worst part was that he’d have to be around her until they found the bastard who was drugging the horse.

  Glancing at the gas gauge, Clint saw the needle hovering near empty. He pulled into the next small town gas station and got out and stretched. In addition to filling the tank, he picked up a ham and cheese sandwich and a Sprite.

  The middle aged buxom woman at the cash register smiled warmly and accepted his credit card, ignoring his glower.

  “My, you’ve come a long ways,” she said, waiting for his card to clear. “We don’t get many folks here from Utah.”

  “I bet.”

  The woman asked, “Is it as beautiful as I hear? I’ve never seen the mountains.”

  “It’s pretty, all right,” Clint replied.

  After signing the credit slip, he grabbed his bag to leave, then hesitated. “Is there any place around her where one can get some peace and quiet?”

  Nonplused, the clerk ran her fingers through her mousy brown hair. “There’s a motel on the outskirts of town.”

  “I’m not looking for a bed,” Clint interrupted. “Is there any country around to walk in, any vistas to see?”

  “Sounds like you’re homesick.”

  Clint ignored that comment.

  “We don’t have views like you’re used to,” the woman said, “but if you take that road you came in on two miles out of town and turn on County Road A, you’ll go through some pretty country. It’s called the Kettle Moraine, left behind by the glaciers.”

  “Thanks,” Clint muttered.

  Within twenty minutes, the woman’s words had come true. He could breathe again. Very few houses were around. Initially, he drove through thick woods, and then he’d come upon an open meadow, and then the scenery would turn quickly to woods again. And it was all gently rolling. The kettles and the moraines, he imagined.

  At one turn-off, he pulled over to stretch his legs and watch the waterfowl come and go on a marshy lake—mallards, wood ducks, Canadian Geese, and further off to his right a blue heron stood in the water near the marsh’s edge. They seemed so sure of themselves, whether they were finding a place to land or a place to feed.

  The sounds were soothing. Ducks quacking. Geese honking. He could also make out the cry of redwinged blackbirds and the call of a kingfisher. In the midst of his misery, life went on whether he wanted it to or not, whether he was ready or not.

  Sitting on the edge of a knoll, Clint dozed off to sleep. It was a fitful sleep as a nude woman with rich auburn hair chased him naked across the deep green grass of rolling hills. When he stopped to take the woman into his open arms, she’d vanish only to reappear some distance away. They chased each other, but failed to ever touch. The green of the landscape dazzled his eyes. It was a lush land matching the disposition of the comely redhead. He knew it was Ireland, though he’d never been there before.

  He awoke as the blood red sun nestled close to the western horizon, leaving its flames etched across the sky. Those flames stretched over his head.

  His heart clinched. Fire Woman. Hah. He wondered what his grandmother would make of her now. He’d been scalded by her fire, that was for sure. Never again. Never ever.

  Disgusted with himself, he had to admit that while the woman had lied to him over and over, she had never spoken those three words he’d wanted to hear so badly. At least she hadn’t gone that far. He wished to hell he hadn’t.

  Determined to protect himself from the fickle smoldering redhead for as long as it took to catch a crook, Clint walked to his truck to begin his trek back to the Windy City.

  - o -

  “I tell you I’m goin’ out to see her work over the track.” Tug O’Hanlon glared. “Either you can take me along, or I’ll call a cab, but you can damn well count on me bein’ there.”

  “Dad,” Cassie protested. She was about to trailer Hope from the farm to the track for a light workout so the filly could get reacquainted with the track conditions and its surroundings. She certainly hadn’t expected company, especially her father.

  “Don’t Dad me. I don’t care what the doctor says. This may be my last chance at havin’ a real good horse. I gotta be certain we’re doin’ everything we can. Maybe she just don’t like the track surface. Maybe she’s got somethin’ botherin’ her that no one else can see. I’ve been around horses a long time, Cass. Sometimes they talk to me in ways others don’t hear.”

  “But what if…” Cassie fought the tears forming in her eyes.

  Tug responded with a dry
chuckle. “None of us are gonna live forever, girl. If I had my choice I’d die at the track anyway, but I don’t think you’re gonna get rid of me that quick. You can’t deny me this chance to help. You don’t know what it feels like to sit here day after day helpless, lettin’ you do all the work, tryin’ to figure out a way to keep a finger in the pot. You need me. Hope needs me. I’m comin’ along to watch how she takes to the surface.”

  Exasperated, Cassie threw up her hands in defeat. When had she been able to deny him of late? No doubt he’d been scheming for days trying to come up with a convincing argument to get to the track.

  Particularly now that Travers was working only to protect his damn honor, her dad wanted to be more involved. There was no question he missed the life at the track. But.

  But, she couldn’t stop him. If she went without him, he’d call a cab as soon as she was out of sight. At least if he was with her, she’d be able to keep an eye on him.

  “Okay, you win. As usual.” She smiled weakly as the frail man beamed. She hoped his excitement would carry him through the morning without killing him.

  Sitting in his wheel chair at the edge of the track, Tug O’Hanlon lowered his binoculars. “She’s good. Damn good. You’ve done a fine job with her, Cass. I’m proud of both of you.”

  “Yeah, well we haven’t done much to earn that pride on race day now, have we?” Cassie fidgeted with her hands and shifted her weight from foot to foot. There was too much worry for pride. The outing seemed to have actually perked up her dad, but then when would he crash? He must be running on pure adrenaline. Hope did look good, but she always looked good in the morning hours.

  And then there was the dark figure of a man hunched over the rail a hundred yards away watching his own horses work. How could he stand being in the same place she was? How dare he work his horses at the same time she worked hers? Well, Travers could stay there until he turned to stone, for all she cared. She would simply go about her business and ignore him.

  “I’m even more convinced that Travers is right,” she heard her dad continue. “Somebody’s gettin’ to the horse. The track surface isn’t botherin’ her. She looks as sharp as a tack.”

  “I see you brought the expert out this morning,” Ed Harrington said, joining them at the fence. “Good to see you, Tug. Maybe you can figure out what’s wrong with that damn filly.”

  “Dunno,” Tug groused, “seems like there may be a number of theories, but no one can really get to the bottom of it. How you been doin’, Harrington? Understand you can’t keep your nose in your own business any more than ever.”

  “I’m okay. It’s not the same without you here. The stories sound too true. Few can stretch a story quite like you, Tug.”

  Tug smiled easily. Struggling, he lifted his right hand. “I’ve missed you all, too.”

  “Well, look what the cat drug in, pardner.” Louie Picard knelt beside Tug’s wheelchair and laid a gnarled hand atop those of his old friend.

  “Uh, oh,” Harrington joshed, “now the stories will start thick and heavy.”

  “Nonsense,” Tug complained. “Louie and I have been going at it for decades and I don’t think either one of us ever stretched the truth.”

  Cassie laughed along with the rest. There were no two guys more noted for storytelling on the Chicago circuit than her father and Louie Picard.

  “It’s good to see you, old friend,” Louie said. “It’s been pretty boring out here without you. Though Cass has been filling in real good.”

  “Yeah,” Tug replied, with more than a little pride, “she’s a chip off the old block.”

  “So do you think this chestnut filly is the dream you’ve been chasing all these years? She’s a beaut, that’s for sure.”

  Tug coughed while Cassie moved quickly to pull the blanket more snuggly around him. “Don’t know,” he said at last, “but she’s sure got a lot of potential.” He paused for breath. “So how’s your string doin’, Louie? They keepin’ you in oats?”

  “Okay, we win some and we lose some, but that’s better than not trying.”

  Tug grimaced. “Expect I’ve heard you say that a thousand times, old friend, but you don’t really know what it means until you can’t come out to shedrow on a daily basis…This is a precious life we all share.” Brushing dirt from the corner of his eye, he added, “Don’t ever forget it.”

  With effort, he turned to Cassie. “Best you wheel me back before I make a fool of myself. Take care, boys.”

  “You too,” Ed and Louie replied. Each headed toward their respective barns.

  - o -

  The phone rang, as Louie had expected. He sighed heavily and then picked it up on the third ring. “Yeah.”

  “Louie, you know what to do.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t screw up. This is a big one.”

  “Have I ever?”

  “How about at Sportsman’s in 92?”

  Louie scowled. He’d tried to forget that mistake.

  “I don’t want the filly killed, Louie. Just slowed down.”

  “Right. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done.”

  “Will your grandson graduate at the winter graduation?”

  “You know he will.”

  “I know. Just don’t you forget. I’ll be watching.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  It was a muggy, hazy August Saturday in Chicago. The weatherman had predicted ninety-eight degrees with the humidity lagging only slightly behind. Not a good day for human or beast.

  Pausing in front of the portable fans she’d brought along from the farm, Cassie pulled the thin blouse fabric away from her skin, seeking any modicum of relief. She’d set up the fans to try and keep Hope cool and relaxed until it was time to walk to the saddling paddock. They’d been at the track for two hours to give the horse some time to acclimate from the trailer ride in.

  The breeze, what there was, might have been blistering hot, but the air between her and the man slouched against the stable wall staring at her with raw contempt couldn’t have been colder if they were on an arctic ice sheet.

  He’d said nothing other than to inform her that the video cameras and operators were in place. She’d expected that he would be behind the cameras, but it was clear he wasn’t going to let either the horse or its trainer out of his sight. His constant glare did little to inspire confidence, but damn if she would show any sign of weakness. She tried to go about the business of preparing for the race as if nothing bothered her or the horse.

  It was so important not to let Hope feel her own anxiety. Maybe there would be no attempt to get at Hope this time. Cassie didn’t believe that for one minute.

  “How’s the horse, Cass?” Ed Harrington asked gruffly. “Suppose you think criminals are lurking all over the place.”

  “She’s fine, Ed. She should do well today,” Cassie responded evenly, hoping the man would gracefully move on down shedrow.

  “Well, well,” Harrington said, acknowledging Clint’s presence, “if it isn’t the cowboy from the wild, wild west.”

  Clint turned his head away from Harrington and spat. Otherwise he made no response to the man’s jibe.

  “Cat got your tongue? Heard from a groom that you’re hauling your horses back to Utah next week.” He grinned boldly, triumph filling his eyes. “Can’t stand the competition, huh? That’s okay, cowboy. Chicagoans are a breed unto themselves. We know how to race the best horses and how to take care of our women,” Harrington taunted. “Looks like you’ll be needing more help than you thought, Cass.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Cassie replied tartly.

  Clint moved smoothly from the stable wall to stand directly in front of the trainer. “I think the lady would like you to move on, mister.”

  “Are you trying to make me move?” asked a red faced Harrington.

  “Nah, wouldn’t want to force you to do anything. Certainly a Chicagoan should know when he’s not wanted.”

  Harrington stared hard at Clint, clearly measuring
his options. “Okay, you win, cowboy. But we’ll see who wins on the track.” As he turned to walk away he added, “And we’ll see who wins the girl in the long run.”

  “The girl,” Cassie sputtered. “Who the hell does he think he is?”

  “Your next lover, no doubt,” Clint said tersely. “He’s well aware of a vacancy. At least he didn’t go anywhere near the horse. Not yet, anyway.”

  Over the public address system came the announcement to bring horses for race five to the paddock.

  - o -

  Staying on alert, Clint walked beside Hope as Cassie led her toward the saddling area. He let his gaze dart about, taking in everything around them. Nothing seemed out of place. Hope seemed relaxed. The unexpected didn’t seem to be happening. He’d put money on an attempt being made. Someone felt so strongly about keeping Hope from performing that he couldn’t let the horse get away with a clean race.

  The saddling went smoothly. Clint saw nothing unusual from the paddock judge or attendants. A groom led Hope out to the paddock circle and began walking her around.

  The jockeys came out from the jockeys’ room. Cassie hefted the jockey into the saddle. The horse behind her reared. Louie Picard came over to put his arm around Cassie, wishing her luck. Earl Sheraton stepped between horses to shake Cassie’s hand, also wishing her luck. Harrington passed by to wish her horse a good trip. This was not uncommon. Trainers competed with each other, but they also looked out for each other. None wanted a horse to be hurt. Clint scowled. At least that was the code. He studied the paddock crowd. Someone in this bunch didn’t care one whit about jeopardizing a horse.

  Shrugging, he headed for the stands. He hadn’t seen anything, but he really hadn’t expected to. There was simply too much confusion in the paddock area to see everything.