by Neva Brown
“Then we’ll take care of her and love her for the person she is at whatever stage she’s in,” Tres stated, as he patted her hand. “Don’t worry. I think she is doing okay. Did you know Raider got out of Dan’s yard when he went to the barn before dawn this morning and showed up at Casey’s door?”
Mattie Lou frowned. “Did she scare Casey?”
Tres grinned. “No, Casey went to the door and let the dog in. Brad could hear her on the monitor. He recognized the dog’s whine, so he left them to do as they pleased. He said she seemed to start remembering lots of things as she talked and evidently petted the dog.”
Mattie Lou brightened. “You know pets are supposed to be good therapy.”
The chimes from the front of the house announced the arrival of their guests. Mattie Lou would have rather made plans for Casey than entertain, but by the time Rosalinda ushered the guests in, Mattie Lou had her best manners intact.
Tres watched five people instead of the invited six came in. The introductions weren’t yet made when Valerie, a slim blonde, a high-maintenance cougar on the prowl if he ever saw one, began talking. “That old bachelor Ralph stood me up to go to some estate sale that had some first edition books. He sends his apologizes.”
“We’ll miss him,” Mattie Lou said. “But we all know he finds some rare books from time-to-time at those sales. Come meet Tres.”
Tres moved to meet the guests.
“Tres, you may remember Bob and Janelle Rayburn whose folks settled here long before any of the rest of us.”
“I do. Bob and I got reacquainted at the horse sale before Casey was injured.” Tres shook hand with the slightly stooped, gray-haired Bob and Janelle, his plump, pretty, petite wife.
Bob said, “Good to see you again. I was telling Janelle about you on the way out here.”
“And these two”—Mattie Lou interrupted—“are new to West Texas. Doris and James Peters. They’re from Austin.”
The tall, angular couple that seemed quite comfortable in their own skins looked like a matched set. They both shook Tres’ hand with a firm grip.
Giving them only time for a handshake and ‘hello,’ Mattie Lou continued. “This is Valerie Lawson. She moved here from Houston about five years ago and has been wonderful to help with our charity functions. She bought the old McAlister place.”
Shades of life before Australia flashed in Tres’ mind. Valerie Lawson could be a clone of a half dozen women he had known in those years—a high-maintenance sort, with hair colored to perfection, spa-toned body, and a predatory glint in her eyes. Everything about her shouted money and privilege.
“Glad to finally meet you. Mattie Lou and I work on several committees together, so I feel like I already know you,” the blonde said.
Wanting to escape and knowing he couldn’t, Tres shook the hand Valerie offered. “May I fix you a drink?”
“Oh, my, yes.”
Turning to the others, he offered to fix drinks for them, and then busied himself preparing the various requests. He listened to the conversation flowing around him with a sense of having lived through this before and not wanting to do it again.
Bob Rayburn took the drink Tres had prepared. “How’s Casey getting along with therapy since you brought her to the ranch?”
“She’s making progress, but has a long way to go.”
“That young Jody Witten is home under his dad’s watchful eye. I heard Big Joe hired a tutor and physical trainer to whip that young hooligan into shape.”
Tres didn’t mention that the tutor and trainer were part of the conditions agreed upon for Jody to be placed in the custody of his father rather than go to prison.
“How about the mare? Did you have to put her down?” Bob asked.
“No, Doc Jones had done a good job with her. She is able to walk for a short time on her own, but still has to stay in a body swing part of the time to keep the weight off that front leg. She has to have lots of therapy, too, but we’re hoping, in time, we can breed her by artificial insemination. We all hate the idea that genes of such a remarkable animal might die out.”
Mattie Lou stepped between the two men and hooked her arms through theirs. “I knew the two of you would be talking horses. But now you have to come talk about fall festival activities with the rest of us.”
Bob’s gravelly laugh echoed off the walls as he patted Mattie Lou’s hand. “Tres, lad, we’ve been busted.”
Earlier Mattie Lou had told him he needed to take his proper place at the head of the table. When he hesitated, she’d said, “J.D. would expect it of you.” So, he sat at the head of the table while his grandmother beamed at him with approval from the other end.
Valerie sat to his right and Doris Peters to his left, insuring that dinner conversation did not revolve around ranch concerns.
Mattie Lou refused to let him be a spectator. “Tres, Valerie has offered a tour of her home for the fall festival this year. We’ll still have the tour at MacVane Manor since it is a tradition Mother and Daddy started long years before they passed. But people have been dying to see the renowned McAlister mansion since Valerie has refurbished it. This will be one more opportunity to fill the empty coffers of the indigent care program for the county.”
Placing one beautifully manicured hand on Tres’ sleeve, Valerie said, “Of course, the real attraction to bring people out will be the heir to the Spencer ranch. You know you’re the talk of the community.”
The muscles bunched in Tres’ arm. His desire to jerk it away from her possessive hand almost overrode his manners, but he kept still. This viper was Mattie Lou’s friend so he would endure, at least for now. “You probably better not put me down as one of the attractions. I’m not very dependable when it comes to social affairs.”
Laughing a little too loudly, Valerie persisted. “Surely you wouldn’t deny our generous people your presence.”
The maid serving salad broke the tension as she placed a monogrammed china plate laden with a crisp garden salad in Tres’ silver serving plate.
“Thanks, Lara,” Tres said to the maid, taking the opportunity to move his arm and turned his attention to Doris Peters on his left. “How did you come to settle here?”
Doris swallowed. “We fell in love with this part of Texas when our son was doing his intern work at McDonald Observatory. After James retired, we decided to build on a small plot of land we had bought back then.”
Refusing to be ignored, Valerie spoke to Mattie Lou. “I was hoping that handsome therapist would be here tonight. Didn’t you say he was working with Casey?”
Mattie said, “I invited him and his sister and Casey, but he declined, saying Casey was not ready to be at a social function yet.”
Valerie let out little giggle. “I always enjoyed his company when he was taking care of J.D.” In her next breath, she added, “I do hope Casey will be at the festival. She’s been the community celebrity for so long, everyone is eager to see her.”
Anger boiled up in Tres. “Dr. Newton will have to give his approval before Casey will be out and about.”
Valerie’s frown of concern didn’t quite come across as sincere. “Is it really true, her injury did permanent brain damage?”
Mattie Lou replied. “I feel uncomfortable discussing Casey in her absence. Besides, we haven’t heard about Janelle’s trip to Scotland for her clan’s gathering.” Looking toward Janelle, she asked, “How long had it been since you had a gathering?”
Janelle, an old-hand at smoothing social situations, answered with an exaggerated Scottish burr, making everyone laugh for the next few minutes while Lara served the entrée of succulent steak, new potatoes, baby carrots, and green beans.
As Tres cut into his steak, he wondered if Casey was enjoying her meal. He remembered as a lanky thirteen-year-old, she’d consumed as much food as a grown man and had stayed skinny as a rail.
When the after-dinner coffee was served, the conversation turned to serious planning for the festival. Tres retreated to the office where he r
etrieved the dog blanket from the closet and a box of dog treats shelved among the books, still there from J.D.’s time.
He found Casey and Brad sitting on the floor of her suite. Brad had modeling clay in his hands that he was squeezing and shaping. Casey had clay, shaped like a piece of steak on a paper plate, trying to cut it. The knife slipped out of her hand. In exasperation, she threw the fork down. “I won’t ever get to go to a real dinner party, will I?”
Tres heard Brad’s confident, reassuring tone as he quieted her distress. “Of course you will. You just have to practice. Your hands have forgotten how to do what your brain tells them to do.” Picking up the silverware, he scooted up to her back, reached his arms around her, and properly positioned the utensils in her hands once again. “Let me help you cut a piece or two, then you can try by yourself.”
Tres knew Brad’s actions were done professionally, but he bristled anyway. Their closeness troubled him.
After two successful cuts, Casey said, “Now, let me do it by myself.” Laboriously, she sawed on the clay, slicing ragged-looking chunks off until it was in pieces.
Brad put the clay he had been shaping on the plate and picked up the cut-up bits. Once again, Casey went to work, cutting with more accuracy. When she finished, Brad said, “Let’s give the clay a rest. We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”
Knowing the session of learning was over, Tres knocked on the open door where he stood before stepping into the room. “I found a blanket and a box of dog treats in J.D.’s office. They must belong to Ula.”
He sat down, Indian-style, on the floor, the three of them forming an arc. He handed Casey the items. “What are you doing?”
Casey looked serious. “I’m learning to cut steak, so I can go to a dinner party. It’s really hard to do, but Brad said if I practice, it will get easy.”
Vera appeared at the kitchenette door. “I have decaf ready, if anybody wants some to go with the chocolate cake Mattie Lou sent for dessert.”
Tres started to help Casey. “I’d like the coffee, but I’m afraid I’ve had all the dessert I can handle tonight.”
Quietly, Brad said, “Casey is learning to get up by herself as well as learning to cut steak.”
Awkwardly, she got to her hands and knees, then crawled to a nearby chair. Bracing herself with the sturdy furniture, she pulled herself upright then grinned triumphantly at Tres. “I can walk without my walker, too, if I can hold on to somebody’s arm.”
Tres held out his arm. “Then hold on to my arm and we’ll walk to the kitchen.”
She gripped his arm with surprising strength, raised her head regally, and cautiously took a step. “Brad says I have to hold my head up and walk proud. If I need to look down, I have to stop and look then look up again before I step. It’s hard to remember everything.”
Tres’ heart ached for the Casey who had been so coordinated and adept at physical activities and now struggled to accomplish the least of these.
He watched as Casey ate slowly with meticulous care. Brad and Vera geared their eating to hers, all the time talking about inconsequential matters. When Casey had eaten all the cake, she patted her mouth with a napkin, glancing at Brad for approval. The brawny therapist chuckled as he spoke gently to her. “You’re really getting good at eating, especially desserts.”
Suddenly, the crack of shattering glass and the clatter of marbles bouncing on the hardwood floor sent Tres’ heartbeat into overdrive. Casey jerked to alertness, alarm in her eyes, like a wild animal ready to take flight.
He and Brad shot to their feet at the same time. Brad beat Tres to the living room by seconds.
“Hello, Valerie,” Brad said. “We weren’t expecting company so we didn’t put away the things we worked with this evening. Are you okay?” Brad stepped in front of the intruder, blocking her view of the kitchen.
With a sharp laugh, Valerie said, “I’m fine, but I’ve made a hell of a mess.”
“Don’t worry about the mess. We aren’t quite up to having guests yet. Therapy has to follow rather rigid guidelines at this stage.”
“Did you need to see me for something?” Tres knew his sharp tone left no doubt about his irritation and he hoped Valerie picked up on it, too.
“I came to invite you over to see the Hancock mare I bought,” she said, frowning.
Tres clamped down on his temper. “I’m leaving early in the morning for Houston and Austin. I’m not sure just when I’ll get back.”
Brad released her arm. “We should be ready for visitors in a few weeks. Maybe we can get together then.”
Trying to hide her impatience, Valerie gave him a curt “of course” then turned back to Tres. “We really need to find time to get to know each other, since so few people our age live around here. That is, those who aren’t married with a house full of kids.”
Tres shepherded her back toward the other guests. “As you probably noticed, I’m not much of one for socializing.”
“Mattie Lou’s going to be awfully disappointed if we don’t become friends.”
“My grandmother is an understanding woman. I’m sure she’ll understand.”
Valerie opened her mouth, then closed it as he hurried her back to the others.
Doris Peters was the first to notice their return. “Well, looks as if your quest was a success. You’re back with a handsome man in tow.”
“Tres was just checking on the help and was glad to return here with me.” With a coy, sideways glance at Tres, she added, “Weren’t you?”
“Valerie has a special way about her.” The thin smile on his lips said more than any words.
Their guests finally departed, Mattie Lou said, “I’m so sorry. I had no idea Valerie would be so pushy. I’ve never seen her act that way.”
Tres put his arm around his grandmother’s shoulders and gave her a gentle hug. “Don’t worry about it. The world is full of Valeries. I think I can hold my own. Are you going to be crushed if I don’t kowtow to your friend?”
With an unladylike snort, Mattie Lou said, “Tres Spencer, you know me better than that.”
Casey sat straight and still, staring into space as if paralyzed by the sharp noise. She saw sizzling firecrackers and felt the terror of losing control as she and Sassy Silk fell that awful day. Her head started to throb. She gripped the sides with both hands and moaned in pain as blackness took over, then pyrotechnics, like a Fourth of July celebration, began to go off in her head. Consciousness slipped away. The fireworks spent themselves. Coolness came. She felt like she floated along before landing on a soft, fluffy cloud.
Chapter 6
Casey opened her eyes to a bright, moonlit night. She saw lacy shadows dancing on the wall. Instinctively, she knew a breeze stirred the leaves of the trees, creating the ever-moving patterns. She felt at one with the beautiful, quiet peace, no hot, sharp colors and pain in her head. Turning her head, she saw Vera, sitting in a pool of light.
The nurse caught the movement. “How do you feel?”
“I’m fine, but I feel different.”
Vera came to the bed and brushed Casey’s hair back as she checked for temperature. “How do you mean different?”
Casey wrinkled her brow in concentration, “I feel like I’m forgetting something I need to do. What’s the date?”
“The twenty-ninth of September.”
Casey sat up in bed, horrified. “I’m supposed to be teaching at the college!”
“Don’t worry, they hired a retired professor to fill in for you,” Vera said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder.
Agitated, Casey insisted, “But I can lose my certification for not honoring my contract.”
“That’s not going to happen. Tres talked with the president of the college and everything is fine.”
Casey swung her legs off the side of the bed. Vera quickly moved the walker around so she could reach it.
Casey stared at the apparatus. “I guess I have some gaps in my memory.”
“That’s not surprising,�
�� Vera assured her. “The type of head injury you received can make memory foggy and cause blank spots here and there.”
“I need to go to the bathroom. Will I fall if I don’t use this?” She waved at the walker.
Vera offered her arm for support. “You can manage by holding on to something. Take my arm. I’ll walk with you.”
“Why can’t I walk by myself? I don’t hurt any place.”
“Your balance is a little wobbly at times, but it’s improving.”
Lightly holding the nurse’s arm, Casey walked without hesitation to the bathroom. She looked in the mirror as she dried her hands and stared, wide-eyed. “What happened to my hair?” Combing her fingers through the soft waves, she brushed the scar on her scalp. Leaning closer to the mirror, she parted the auburn tresses, then spoke softly to herself. “You really whacked yourself a good one, didn’t you? No wonder you have balance problems.”
When she left the bathroom, she found Vera standing at the door, waiting patiently. “I’d like to see if I can walk alone.”
Vera remained beside her for a time then sat and watched Casey move around the room; first very cautiously then with a more normal step. As she neared the door, the dog’s whine caught Casey’s attention. She opened the door.
“Hello, Raider, you act like you expect to come in.” The old dog stopped a minute for Casey to pet her then made a beeline for the blanket beside the bed. The canine that Casey had called Ula before lay down with a soft sigh, causing both women to chuckle.
Walking back to the bed, Casey sat down on the floor near Raider, propping her back against the side of the bed, and stretched her legs out in front of her. She ran her hand lightly over the scar on her leg and peered up at Vera. “Would you tell me everything that’s happened?”
Vera hesitated. “Are you sure you really want to know?”
Casey nodded as she stroked Raider’s soft, clean hair.
Brad came into the room as Vera began to talk. He spoke and sat down in a chair, observing Casey’s reactions to the events as Vera related them. He noted the dog creeping closer to Casey and putting her chin on her friend’s thigh. At times, Casey stroked the dog lightly then at other times, more vigorously as Vera talked. But no distress or panic showed in his patient’s eyes, just intense interest.
