Casey's Courage

by Neva Brown

  At dinner’s end, guests drifted to the mirror-paneled ballroom for the two hours of dancing the invitation had indicated. Casey had planned to escape to sit with Mattie Lou, but found herself surrounded by people.

  The mayor greeted Casey with a smile. “Young Lady, who do you purpose we get to be our ambassador, now that you’ve stopped keeping our town’s name in the public’s eye?”

  Casey’s well-wishers soon turned the conversation to horses. Time passed discussing the familiar subject until time for the last dance. Tres appeared at her shoulder, close enough for her to feel his heat and recognize the male scent of him.

  His eyes glittered dangerously, sending a delicious heat spiraling through her body. “I think this dance is mine.”

  Remembering their last effort at dancing, Casey felt warmth streak her cheeks, but the desire to feel his hands on her and to be close to him overrode any embarrassment. She turned into his arms and felt the brand of his hand through the silk of her dress as the lights dimmed for the soft melody of the last song. Vaguely she heard voices singing, “Good night. Sweet dreams.”

  Shadowy, ghostlike couples moved in the periphery of her vision. But Tres, close as a heartbeat, lifted his hand that held hers and brushed his knuckles across her cheek, then traced her lips with his thumb. Casey felt a delicious twinge of awareness and embers flare deep inside.

  “You are a rare, incredible beauty, Little Casey.”

  The fleeting touch to her face caused a seismic upheaval within her, but the sound of his voice and the feel of his hand as it slipped low on her back pressing her against his hardness, drew her into a magical circle. The hard line of his jaw, the enticing scent of his skin, and his watchful eyes mesmerized her as she moved in perfect time with him. In the recesses of her mind, she swore to memorize this moment-in-time, to have and to hold, forever and ever.

  His breath tickled her cheek as he bent to kiss the shell of her ear. Trembling, she turned her face to meet his lips with hers. A soft sound like the purr of a kitten escaped her lips as he deepened the kiss.

  He lifted his head, eyes flashing with irritation as the music died away and the lights came back to full brightness.

  As she focused back to reality, she stiffened in alarm at the hostile stare of Valerie from across the room.

  Tres’ voice called her attention to him. “We need to go to the foyer for ‘Good night, glad you came’ duty.”

  As they made their way across the dance floor, Casey felt Valerie’s eyes following her. “Am I supposed to know Valerie?”

  “I don’t know.” Tres frowned. “She was at the ranch for dinner one night, but you weren’t up to having company then. Could you have known her before you got hurt?”

  “I don’t think so, but she seems to dislike me for some reason.”

  Tres laughed easily and placed his arm around her shoulders. “Don’t all beautiful women hate each other?”

  As the last guests left, Valerie came to the foyer with Brad at her side. Speaking a little too loudly, she told Mattie Lou, “I’m commandeering Brad to take me home. I had one too many drinks.” Then, turning to Casey, she added, “Judging from what I saw on the dance floor, I’m sure you won’t need a therapist tonight to ease your pain.” With a cackle of a laugh that set Casey’s nerves jangling, Valerie glared at Tres. “And you, Mr. Tres Spencer, when you . . .”

  Her remark was drowned out by Sheriff Griffin’s booming voice as he marched through the door with a worried look on his face.

  Chapter 11

  Sheriff Griffin, even though a brusque, coarse man, took off his hat and spoke to Mattie Lou before he turned to Tres and Casey. “Dan Brown just called the office on the Border Patrol field radio. He needs to talk to you and Casey.”

  “I’ll come. Casey still has some therapy to do tonight, and she’s already had a full day,” Tres said. The hand he had placed on her back felt her stiffen.

  Before the sheriff answered, Casey said, “I’ll come. Dan really needs help or he wouldn’t have called. Let’s go.”

  The sheriff nodded and said, “I think she’s right.”

  Casey stepped away from Tres and gently squeezed Mattie Lou on the shoulder as they started toward the door. “We’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as we can.”

  Tres knew he was still the outsider even though he now owned the Running S. Dan Brown and Casey’s dad were the men who had kept J.D. and Mattie Lou’s sprawling ranch productive since his grandfather’s first heart attack. Even though he had proven himself in the world of high finance and in the ranching business in Australia, Tres was well aware he had a long way to go before he understood the workings of the Running S well enough to override the judgment of the capable Dan Brown. Yet he wanted to tuck Casey away in a safe place and tell everyone to quit expecting so much of her.

  As soon as they entered the sheriff’s office, the deputy activated the radio, telling Dan that Tres and Casey had arrived.

  Dan spoke over the crackle of the static on the radio. “Tres, the Border Patrol has gathered up a small army of men doing war maneuvers in the canyon. They claim to be freedom fighters of some sort. Ned heard some of them talking about guns and ammunition stashed in a cave somewhere in the canyon. When he mentioned it, Jake said he and Casey used to go by that cave when they trained horses down in the canyon. Anyway, Jake offered to lead a couple of the patrolmen down to check on it, while the other patrolmen kept watch over the militia boys until the Patrol helicopter could get them transported.”

  “What happened?” Tres said.

  “That’s why I called. Jake and the two other men left several hours ago and should have been back before dark, but we haven’t heard from them. I need to talk to Casey to see if she can tell us anything about the location of the cave. I haven’t worked down in that canyon in twenty years. I don’t remember ever seeing the cave. To be honest, I don’t remember the lay of the land.”

  Casey spoke before Tres could respond. “I know the cave. Something must have happened to them. I’ll come. We can start a search at first light.”

  Dan continued. “There’s something else. We learned after Jake left that a few of the militiamen got away. It may not be safe down there. If you could come and give us some directions, it would help. I know you’re not ready to ride yet.”

  “I’m fine, Casey said. “The doctor told me I could do what I felt up to doing. As for it not being safe, the men who got away are probably long gone by now.”

  Tres knew what climbing the ladder on the windmill had cost her and didn’t plan for her to have to endure muscle spasms like that again if he could help it. He refocused on what she was saying to Dan.

  “Are the two mules called Jude and Huldy still with your remuda?” she asked.

  With Dan’s affirmation, she continued. “If you can have them at the rim with riding and pack gear, I’ll use them. We trained them down in the canyon back when I was fifteen or sixteen. They’re surefooted. Also, there’s a big dapple gray called Clabber that Dad used for canyon work a few years back. Tres could ride him. We’ll need extra ropes, flashlights, and first-aid supplies.” She spoke with confidence and authority. Horses and rough ranch terrain she understood.

  “We have all those things here, and I’ll call to get the mules here. Some of the patrolmen will be going with you,” Dan said.

  With their party clothes changed to work denim, Tres and Casey drove to the ranch while the early hours of the morning crept toward dawn. As they traveled, Tres contemplated the best way to convince Casey to stay at a command post and direct him and the patrolmen with a field phone. When he finally made the attempt to talk her out of going, she listened without making a sound.

  “Tres,” Casey said once he was finished, “neither you nor the patrolmen have been in that thicket in the bottom of the canyon. I know the way by sight, not by a map. Besides, I know Dad needs help, and I’m the best person to do the job.”

  Tres heard the quiver in her voice when she mentioned Jak
e. Denying her anything she wanted was beyond him. He would go with her and protect her as much as he could.

  In the graying light of dawn, Casey talked to the mules that had not been worked in a long time. They moved restlessly as she helped the men balance and secure the pack of emergency equipment on Huldy. Just before the sun appeared on the horizon, Casey mounted a fidgety Jude and picked up the lead rope on Huldy.

  “Ma’am, wouldn’t it be better for me to lead the pack mule at the back?” one of the patrolmen asked.

  “Have you worked with a mule?” Casey asked.

  “No, Ma’am, but I’m sure I can manage.”

  “We can’t take any chances of him getting away, so I’ll hang onto him for now.”

  She rode to the rim and took a faint trail that sloped sharply down into the dense brush. As the shale rock slipped precariously under the mules’ feet and the thicket pressed in on all sides, the once-fidgety animals settled into the business at hand—staying on their feet and moving along a steep, tangled trail. The brush blocked out the light of day, leaving the rescue crew in oppressive shadows as they toiled along. They didn’t realize rain clouds, propelled inland from a hurricane in the Pacific, had gathered overhead until cold raindrops started falling through the overhanging branches.

  Tres rode directly behind Huldy. The patrolmen, who were afoot, followed with much slipping, sliding, and swearing at the mud and thorny brush that impeded their progress. They came into a small clearing when they reached the floor of the canyon. The rain fell steadily, but nobody commented. Ponchos had been slipped on as they moved along the trail. Tres stepped off the dapple gray and took Huldy’s lead rope. “How about I hang onto him now?”

  “Sounds good to me,” Casey agreed as she dismounted then took a compass out of her saddlebag and nodded. “We’re right on target. We should bisect the trail that Dad and the men with him took about a mile farther along.”

  The patrolmen sat down to rest as they made their way into the clearing. One of them gave a tired laugh. “I haven’t had a workout like that since training camp. I slide on my—” he hesitated “—backside half the way down seems like.” The banter among the men was quiet but steady as they rested.

  Casey took water from her saddlebag when she put the compass back. Turning her back, she slipped a pill out of her shirt pocket and washed it down. Tres touched her shoulder as she spun around, and then touched her cheek where a branch had whipped against it, leaving a red welt. “Some of those gullies we jumped really jarred. How’re you doing?”

  Casey smiled in spite of her pain. “I’ll make it, but I brought the old trusty pain pills along just in case.” She longed to rest against his chest and absorb the feel and scent of him. “How about you? Clabber rides rough, but he’s surefooted.”

  “I can’t disagree with that.” Tres grinned and tugged on the bill of the baseball cap Casey wore. It felt good to be close to her.

  “We better tell the patrolmen what we need to do next.” Casey said, leading Jude toward the men. “Don’t get up.”

  The men appeared relieved to have a few more minutes before moving on.

  She continued. “We need all the rest we can get. We’re about five miles from the cave and about a mile from where we should bisect the trail Dad and the other men took. One more thing, we’re in javelina territory now, so be watchful. They can rip a gash in a person right to the bone with one slash of their tusks.” She looked at Tres then back to the patrolmen. “We can get there a lot quicker if we take a shortcut, but it would mean cutting some brush to get the mules through. The deer keep the lower brush pushed back as they travel through, but the branches will have overgrown the trail in places. What do you think?”

  “Let’s take the shortcut,” one of the seated men replied.

  Refusing to yield to muscles that throbbed, Casey mounted her Jude, leaving Huldy in Tres’ care. They left the clearing and entered the shadowy thicket again. A branch caught at her jacket she had unbuttoned, exposing the revolver snapped into a holster on her hip. When she came to the point she could no longer work her way through the branches, she got off Jude. “We need to get the axes and machetes that are in Huldy’s pack.”

  She didn’t offer to help as the men cleared the brush away. She led the two mules and Clabber through as the men hacked away the branches. As the trees thinned at the edge of another clearing, they heard a horse whicker. In silent unison, tools were put down and pistols drawn.

  Crawling through the game trail, leaving Casey with the mules and Clabber, the men crept toward the clearing. Tying the animals to sturdy branches, Casey slipped her revolver out of its holster and moved down the trail behind the men.

  At the edge of the brush, they all stopped and surveyed the surrounding area. Across the clearing, three horses stood tied in the shelter of some trees. Around a sturdy Alligator Juniper tree, Jake and the two other men sat, their hands and feet tied, bound to the tree with a lariat rope.

  Casey’s heart skipped a beat then raced as adrenaline surged through her veins. Something was wrong with her dad. The two agents sat, alert and watchful, knowing the horse that whickered had heard something they hadn’t. But Jake sat slumped over, seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

  While Tres and Casey watched, their four companions slipped through the brush at the edge of the clearing, making their way around to the captured men.

  Nothing stirred.

  Casey’s need to run across the clearing to her dad overwhelmed her, but she knew the pain in her hip and leg would not allow her to walk across the clearing, much less run. And running would be the only option in this dangerous scenario.

  She whispered to Tres, “I’m going back for Clabber and the mules.”

  He nodded, but kept his eyes on the scene in front of him.

  She held on to sturdy limbs to stay upright as she made her way back to the animals. When she returned to the edge of the clearing, leading the mules and Clabber, Tres had crossed over to the men. Feeling dizzy from too many pain pills, Casey grasped the saddle horn firmly and pulled herself into the saddle. The pain still throbbed all down her right side, but the medication made it bearable. She trembled as the adrenaline drained away and worry set in. She made her way across the clearing and dismounted beside her father. He mumbled angrily even though he was unconscious.

  “They jumped us at the mouth of the cave,” Jim, the agent tied next to Jake, said. “Broke Chuck’s arm when he tried to fight.” He struggled to his feet as soon as he was untied.

  Casey and Tres listened to the distraught Jim as they released Jake and wrapped him in a survivor blanket. Casey strained to understand the incoherent mumbling of her dad.

  Jim continued. “They talked about taking our horses while they marched us down here, but decided not to.” He rubbed his arms and stomped his feet. “One of ‘em wanted Jake’s clothes, said he could get them a ride if he looked like a cowboy. When Jake wouldn’t oblige, the guy hit him with the butt of a rifle.”

  The agent, who’d radioed the command station on the rim, hurried over. “The commander said we better get out of this canyon ASAP. This storm is building up force from a hurricane in the Pacific off the coast of Mexico.”

  Casey gazed up at the darkening clouds tumbling in the erratic winds. “This canyon floor can turn into a river if we get heavy rain. We’ll still have to get out the long way. The trail we used coming in is too steep.”

  “I know the way back up to the cave. We could take shelter there,” Jim offered.

  Casey shook her head. “If lightning starts dancing round in these clouds, I’m not sure being in a cave where there may be a stock pile of ammunition would be safe, even if it hasn’t been booby-trapped.”

  “We better not chance it,” Tres said. “This weather might box us in. Jake and Chuck need medical help as soon as possible. Let’s rig up some way to carry them and get on the move before full dark sets in.”

  Some of the men helped Tres and Casey construct a carrier for Ja
ke; others packed the gear and equipment on the horses. The only passable trail was so narrow they would have to travel single-file. The mules knew how to work in tandem, but working with Jude in the lead with Jake’s makeshift portable cot hooked to the stirrups with long poles followed by Huldy with the other end of the poles hooked to his pack saddle was a new experience for them. The mules, not knowing what was going on, became fractious. Casey used all her skills and strength. Finally, with the help of Tres and two of the agents, the mules were rigged to carry the makeshift stretcher.

  As the black, ominous night settled in, they started up the trail. Casey rode Jude, who supported the front of the stretcher that held Jake. The long, thin poles on either side of the mule were fastened with ties that she could cut quickly if the animal fell or got caught in a mudslide.

  Tres didn’t ride, but walked holding on to Huldy’s bridle. The mule would not settle down. The poles extending back to the fenders on the packsaddle rubbed the mule’s shoulders, making him jumpy. Tres unsnapped the holster on his hunting knife for easy access if he needed to cut the stretcher loose quickly.

  Behind Huldy, Jim led Clabber with a semiconscious Chuck in the saddle. After Clabber, the other horses, loaded with gear and equipment, were led by rain-soaked, weary men.

  Rivulets of rainwater coming off the canyon walls ran knee-deep in places. Gravel bars shifted as the water soaked the earth and loosened the small stones, making travel hazardous. Periodically, they had to stop so the agents could clear fallen limbs from the trail.

  Every time they stopped for the men to work, Casey dismounted and checked on her father. He was chalky white, but breathing evenly as he mumbled in angry tones from time-to-time.