by Neva Brown
The miles slipped by as they streaked along the flat highway with nothing but greasewood and sagebrush on the arid land. Off in the distance, a mesa jutted up out of the ground. In one area along the way, huge white windmills, geared to produce electricity, lined the top of the mesas for miles.
Casey broke the silence. “Who would have ever thought these old rocky mesas and high West Texas wind would be valuable assets?”
“Time and circumstances seem to change lots of things,” Brad said.
“Yeah, you’re right.”
Brad raised an eyebrow at her. “What kind of changes are you thinking about?”
Casey didn’t answer for a bit. “I really doubt that I’ll ever do competitive riding again. I know the physical stamina it takes to do well. I don’t believe my body can withstand that kind of punishment.”
“Who knows, maybe after you ride for the next couple of weeks, you can decide more about how you feel.”
She could hear a tinge of uncertainty in her voice when she said, “To be honest, I’m not sure I even want to try anymore. I guess that’s one of those bridges I better not cross until I get there.” She slowed down for the city limits of one of the oldest settlements in West Texas. “You want to get something to eat here?”
“Sounds good to me,” Brad said. “We might even go for a jog before we eat if you feel up to it.”
Casey groaned and grinned. “A brisk walk may be the best I can do after sitting in this pickup for so long.” She turned the vehicle off the highway and meandered through an old part of town to a beautifully kept park. After some stretching and a two-mile jog, they enjoyed a delicious meal at the oldest restaurant in town before heading west again.
As they approached the city limits of Cielo Alto, Casey said, “I want to go by the university. I need to see if the chairman of the psychology department has time to talk to me for a few minutes. Then I need to talk to a realtor about a place to lease, since someone else is house-sitting the professor’s place I was supposed to live in.”
“I figured you’d go stay with your parents for a while after you left the Spencer’s.”
She shook her head. “I’ll go visit, but their lives do not include my being underfoot, especially if I’m not out working with the horses.”
After a little while, Brad said, “If you’ll drop me off at MacVane Manor, I’ll gather up the things I’ve left there over the years. Mattie Lou insisted I needed a break from time to time and offered me the run of the Manor. Greta and Rudy treated me like a guest the first few times then took me in like I was one of their own family.”
“Those two have managed MacVane Manor for a long time,” Casey said. “I remember Mattie Lou telling about how her parents sponsored them to come to the United States and helped them get their American citizenship.”
Casey slowed down behind a cattle truck growling its way up a rise in the highway. Shortly she turned onto the curved road feeling a sense of welcome at the sight of the picture-book setting. The three-story red brick manor with tall white columns and wide, shaded porches set among tall, lush live oaks that lined the driveway and dotted the spacious grounds. An expanse of manicured lawn, with flowerbeds here and there to break the monotony, stretched out in all directions from the house like open arms ready to embrace.
As Casey eased the pickup to a halt under the canopy sheltering the drive in front of the wide, shallow steps leading to massive oak doors, she said, “I shouldn’t be long. I just need to see the head of the psychology department at the college and a real estate agent.”
“Take your time,” Brad said as he got out of the pickup giving a short wave as he headed up the steps.
Two hours later, Casey sat on a quiet country road watching fluffy white clouds play tag with Twin Peaks in the distance. Disappointment had her emotions in a downward spiral and spinning out of control. No way was she going to let anyone see her so adrift and unsure of what to do next. She was in limbo. The head of the psychology department was out of town at a conference and wouldn’t be back until next week. Mr. Minton, the real estate agent she’d needed to talk to about leasing a house, was out in the boondocks showing a client ranches several miles from town. The note on his door indicated he would be away for two more days.
Twin Peaks became blurry. She blinked. Warm tears dropped from her lashes and trickled down her cheeks opening the floodgates for long-denied tears to fall. Sobs echoed in the cab of the pickup.
Tears spent and finally somewhat in control again, Casey stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror and said, “Now that was a granddaddy of a meltdown and the world did not come to an end, so I suggest you cool it until tomorrow and see if better judgment won’t prevail.” She mopped up the residue of tears and slipped on sunglasses. “Right now my guess is you don’t need to stay anywhere near the Running S, Tres, or your parents, so it’s a good thing today’s plan didn’t work. You need to put some distances between you and the life you once had and the life you’ve secretly longed for in your dreams since you were thirteen.”
She headed back to get Brad. He was pacing the front porch when she drove up. As the pickup glided to a stop, he opened the door.
“Are you okay? You didn’t answer your phone.”
“Sorry, I turned if off when I went into the university office and forgot to turn it back on. I’ll let you drive,” she said, heading off any more questions. “Can I help you load your things?” She stepped out of the pickup, came around to the steps, and reached for a piece of luggage setting on the porch.
They were no more than five miles out of town when Brad said, “I assume things didn’t go as you planned.”
“How did you guess?”
He chuckled. “Your pink nose and husky voice belie that calm coat of armor you donned.”
Casey eased her seat back to a reclining position and closed her eyes. “You’re right things didn’t go as I planned, but I’ll regroup tomorrow. Right now my head aches and I don’t feel like talking.”
She heard concern in his voice as he asked, “Does it hurt from crying or like it did from the accident?”
“It’s a good, honest, well-earned headache. Don’t worry.” She pretended to sleep.
When Brad turned off the highway onto the ranch road, he said, “I can almost hear the wheels going full speed in that brain of yours. You’re acting like you’re defeated. You just need to take stock. Stop and think about the success you had with the Running S horses, your success in earning a PhD, and most of all the success you’ve had in getting yourself back in top shape after an accident that put you through hell as you rehabbed.”
Casey opened her eyes, took off her sunglasses, and put her seat back upright. “All that’s in the past. The future is out there. For the first time in my life, I don’t have a goal to strive for. My dreams died today and I buried them. I’m feeling sad, but I know I’ll survive.”
The pickup rumbled across the cattle guard to the home pasture as Brad said, “It doesn’t take an Einstein to see you’re in love with Tres. Why don’t you set winning him for your next goal? He’s in love with you. He just needs to realize it. Now that’s a goal with a worthwhile challenge.”
Casey felt as if he’d touched a raw wound. She snapped, “Not gonna happen. This cat’s looked at the king, without success, for too long. So forget it.”
Casey could almost hear the smirk in Brad’s voice as he said, “I’ll say no more.”
Settled in bed, Casey couldn’t get her wide-awake brain to stop demanding, Why not? Why not Tres? The old lectures from her folks kept trying to interrupt, but her heart sided with her brain. As Casey pondered where she’d find the courage to try and how to go about attracting Tres, sleep crept in.
Chapter 9
Restlessness plagued Tres after Casey left to see the doctor. Sleep eluded him and he couldn’t settle down to do office work. Old defense mechanisms kicked in. Physical work would take the edge off the irritation that grew out of his wanting. He threw his rid
ing gear into the bed of the pickup and headed out to help with the roundup. His long-ago vow to avoid any serious involvement with a woman seemed to have worn threadbare. He wanted Casey.
By the time he traveled across to the south pens, he could see cattle plodding steadily ahead of vigilant cowboys in the distance. Roping out a stout gelding, Tres saddled up and circled out to help pen the ever-growing herd as outriders brought in small bunches of stranglers.
The sun had slipped to the horizon before the day’s work ended. Hot, dirty, and tired, Tres called Mattie Lou to tell her he would spend the night at the line cabin near the rim of Dark Canyon. He arrived at the cabin but didn’t go in. He took the path to the edge of the canyon where the night wind whirled up from the brush-choked abyss with a plaintive whine. The pale moonlight shrouded the yawning gap with an eerie glow. As he watched, a light flickered from deep within the canyon.
Tres’ unrest changed into sharp alertness. He watched the light flicker sporadically as it moved toward a more dense area of the canyon. Then it disappeared completely. He returned to the cabin, telling himself it would be any number of things, but he’d better check it out as soon as possible. The incident occupied his thoughts until he stretched out on a bunk, hoping to get some rest. But Casey invaded his mind. His body, tired as it was, craved the soft, warm feel of her, the scent of her, all of her.
As Casey started to the kitchen late the next morning, she saw Mattie Lou in the sunroom sitting at her writing desk with tears in her eyes. “Mattie Lou, what’s wrong?”
Startled, but ever the gracious lady, the older woman, said, “Come in, Casey.”
“You look like you are in pain.”
“You do know the look of pain, don’t you, child?” Mattie Lou blotted her tears and said, “Just a few months ago I could do my needlepoint with ease and write with no problem. All at once debilitating, painful arthritis came on. So I’m sitting here feeling sorry for myself.” She forced a smile onto her lips. “Come sit down and tell me about your trip and what the doctor said.”
Casey’s heart hurt for Mattie Lou, who looked old and fragile this morning. Casey pasted a reassuring smile on her face. “I received a good report. Dr. Newton said I can start managing on my own as long as I don’t overdo.” She reached for Mattie Lou’s hand. “But what about you? Have you seen the doctor about your arthritis?”
Mattie Lou blotted the last of her tears. “Oh, yes. While I’ve been staying in town, Dr. Coleman ran all kinds of tests and consulted with a specialist. I’ve had one infusion of some new drug that is supposed to do wonders. It hasn’t been long enough to tell how well it will work for me.”
Casey gently rubbed the soft, gnarled hand she held. “Is there something I can do to help you?”
Mattie Lou gained her composure. “That’s kind of you. I’m not sure what I should do. My pride demands that I hand write thank-you notes and invitations, but it seems like that may not be possible for me anymore.”
The phone rang. Mattie Lou’s face lit up when she heard the voice on the phone. “Casey’s here. She might like to come watch the last day of shipping before she settles back into her routine. Are the binoculars you need in your office?”
After listening, she said, “Let me ask her.” She turned to Casey. “Tres needs his night vision binoculars. Would you like to take them to him and watch the last bunch of cattle being loaded out for this year?”
Casey’s heart rate increased as she thought of seeing Tres, especially after the plan she’d made last night. “If you’re sure you don’t want me to help you with your correspondence, I’d enjoy the outing.”
“I’ll wait until tomorrow on the correspondence.”
During breakfast, Brad talked with Mattie Lou about aids she could use to help her do work with her arthritic hands, while Casey talked to herself about having the courage of her convictions.
Casey arrived at the shipping pens later than she had planned. Rosalinda had detained her. Tres was nowhere to be found by the time she arrived at the shipping area. As she scanned the pens and loading chutes, she saw her dad turn his horse and head toward her. “Tres said to tell you he’d be at the line cabin on the rim of Dark Canyon.” No ‘hello’ or ‘how are you.’ Pretty clear that she was still in the doghouse. She gave a quiet sigh.
“Looks like things are winding down for this shipping season.”
Her dad coughed and spit. “Yeah, it always gets done one way or the other. Are you ready to come home and start helping with some of the young horses?”
Casey stiffened. “I’m supposed to work with Brad for two more weeks. After that I should know what I’ll be able to do.” She braced for what she knew her dad would say.
He looked at her, stern and unyielding. “The Spencers have been good to you, but you don’t want to ride a good horse to death. You need to get back to earning your keep.”
Casey inwardly cringed at his implication that she was malingering. “How are the two new trainers doing?”
“They try, I guess. But they want to work office hours. Can’t get anything done that way. Good help’s hard to find.”
Not wanting to disagree with her dad, Casey stepped back from the fence. “I better get on over to the cabin with the things Tres asked me to bring. I’ll be over to see you and Mom soon.”
“Don’t expect to find your mother and Marie at home. Since they learned how to drive that new van with a lift for Pauline’s wheelchair, they’re on the go all the time. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Casey, raising an eyebrow in surprise, said, “That’s wonderful. It’s been ages since Mom showed an interest in anything outside the house. When did you get the van?”
”I figured you knew. Tres brought it over several weeks ago, said it would save a lot of lifting and make it easy to go places. I told him we couldn’t afford it. But he said since the ranch was so far from town, he felt like a vehicle should be furnished so Pauline could go in comfort to her doctor’s appointments and other places. Wasn’t any talking him out of it.”
Her heart warmed. “That was really nice of him. I better get a move on and get these binoculars to him before dark. Bye.”
Parking her pickup in the shade of a huge Alligator Juniper tree that grew beside the cabin, Casey took the binoculars with the case of attachments from the back seat and headed toward the house. She stopped when she caught sight of Tres returning from the rim of the canyon.
The sun at his back made his shadow long and obscured the features of his face, but she felt him compelling her. Mesmerized, she moved forward.
Finally close enough to feel the heat of his body, she searched his face wanting to memorize the chiseled jaw line, the classic curve of his lips, and his flashing eyes that held a question. He bent toward her, his breath brushing her cheek as he touched his lips to hers briefly. That fleeting touch sent delicious heat racing to her very core. The power of his touch made her move closer, trying to stop time and live in the moment. His breath tickled the side of her face as his mouth touched the shell of her ear. “You’re a bewitching beauty,” he whispered.
His fingers brushed against her check and then curved against the side of her face. Casey forgot to breathe as his thumb stroked across her bottom lip. His maleness sent her senses spiraling. That light touch created an upheaval in her body. She pressed closer to him and encircled his neck with needy arms. His smile dispelled her nervousness. She answered his kiss with an inexperienced one, but one that came as instinctively as breathing. He was breath and life to her at that moment.
Reality intruded as the growl of a jeep, toiling its way through the heavy brush east of the cabin, became louder as the vehicle came into view.
Regret rocked Tres as he watched the dream-like look in Casey’s eyes recede. She stepped away.
Tres turned her to his side with his arm around her waist. “That must be the Border Patrolmen interested in the lights I saw down in the canyon.” In step with each other, they moved toward the cabin as they w
atched the approach of the vehicle with two men in it.
The humming in Casey’s blood continued as his enticing scent teased her senses. The friction of his hand on her hip as they walked built anticipation below her belt.
Years of dealing with pragmatic men helped her gain focus. “Lights like the Marfa lights?”
Tres shrugged. “Nothing that mysterious. Looked more like a light carried by somebody as he picked his way through the underbrush.”
She hooked her thumb into his back belt loop. “What do you suppose anybody would be doing down there?”
“I wondered the same thing, so I called Sheriff Griffin to see if he knew of any smuggling going on or if any poaching had been reported. He didn’t admit to knowing anything, but said he would talk to the Border Patrol about it. He called later and said some men would come to check things out.”
The Border Patrol agents’ Jeep grumbled to a stop beside Casey’s pickup. Two men got out and stretched as Casey and Tres approached. The older of the two said, “I’d about decided we’d fall into the river with the next turn in that cow trail we came in on. This place is not easy to find.” He extended his hand. “I’m Ned and this young buck is Kirby.”
Shaking the agent’s hand, Tres said, “This is Casey and I’m Tres.” He reached out and shook Kirby’s hand. “Are you new to this part of the world?”
“No, sir, just the new partner of this crusty old man.” He grinned as he nodded toward Ned.
Ned extended his hand to Casey. “Ma’am, how did a pretty thing like you end up way out here?”
She grinned at him. She knew his kind. He might be carrying a big gun on his hip and look tough as a boot, but he liked to charm the ladies. “Because this is where all the good-looking men are.” She extended her hand first to Ned then to Kirby. “I’m glad to meet you all. Come on in. I have food Rosalinda sent and judging from all the good smells it must be a feast.”
