Silken Threads

by Barrie, Monica

  She was suddenly feeling all the pain of her first accident and knew that at any moment, the horse could fling her from its back and drag endlessly along the ground, unable to stop, unable to do anything but endure the unbearable pain and agony.

  “Help me!” she screamed, her voice breaking as she called out.

  ~~~~

  Kirk, as he had been doing all day, continued to check on Cassandra and Jane. After last night, he wondered if he could keep up his act. I have to, he reminded himself.

  He saw Jane, Cassandra, and Bill Norton angle away from the herd and turned his attention back to the others. A moment later, he spun in the saddle. Intuition, built from years of experience, warned him that something was wrong!

  He searched everywhere. Then he saw Cassandra’s horse rear, its front legs flying out in a defensive kick.

  Before he could move, the gelding spun and took off in a panicked gallop with Cassandra clinging helplessly to its back.

  Kirk’s heart beat rapidly, and his spurred heels dug cruelly into his horse’s flanks, sending it racing forward on a path that would intercept Cassandra. Bending low in the saddle, he saw Jane do a running mount as she, too, started after Cassandra. Bill Norton was running, too, but he was chasing his horse.

  Kirk knew there was only one thing would have caused this scene. They had disturbed one of the numerous rattlesnakes.

  Leaning forward, Kirk urged more speed from his horse. His mind raced madly and his eyes locked on Cassandra, refusing to think about what might happen.

  “Hold on!” Kirk shouted, knowing full well that Cassandra couldn’t hear him. Concentrating with all his power, Kirk kept the pressure on his horse, urging it with his spurs, his hands, and his prayers to go faster.

  Two minutes later, he had gained on her. The angle he’d intuitively chosen was the right path, and just as Cassandra’s horse went down a small incline, Kirk knew he would make it.

  Then the cold hand of fear squeezed his heart as he realized where the horse was taking her. Ahead of them was a level valley they never crossed. The valley floor was not sand and earth but was a bed of randomly strewn rocks challenging anyone to ride across them at a pace faster than a walk.

  Kirk knew he had only a few moments left. If he didn’t reach her, it would be all over. “No!” he swore defiantly.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra fought her fear, fought the paralyzing effects that the fear drowned her in, but even though she did, she could not gain control over the powerful horse. Its headlong rush for safety was the only thing controlling it.

  Flecks of the horse’s sweat flew into her face, but she didn’t even feel it. Her hands were stiff; her fingers ached from their painful grasp. Her stomach churned, and with every stride the horse took, she thought she would die.

  Fight! she told herself. Fight! She tried, but she could not regain control. The loud sound of the horse’s strained breathing reached her ears just as they entered the level valley. Then Cassandra’s already pounding heartbeat faster. Before her, strewn everywhere, were rocks. The valley floor was nothing more than rock and stone.

  Summoning up whatever strength remained in her arms, Cassandra made herself sit up against the rocking, tossing gait that controlled the horse. She bit down on her lower lip, and as a flash of pain seared her mouth, she jerked back sharply on the reins.

  The horse’s head moved with the reins, but instead of slowing, the horse continued on its mad charge, its head turned halfway back as it ran blindly toward its death.

  Cassandra fought. She struggled with the reins, sitting further back in the saddle the way Jane had shown her, in an effort to make the horse stop, but it made no difference to the uncontrollable runaway.

  A hundred yards ahead loomed the mouth of the rocky valley. Her eyes widened as she saw it rush closer.

  “Kirk!” she screamed. “Help me, Kirk!”

  Suddenly there was a man riding toward her, approaching at an angle that would cut off her horse’s headfirst run. Cassandra, still held prisoner by her inability to control the horse, saw it was Kirk responding to her cry.

  The world moved in slow motion, and with every bounce she took, she saw Kirk edge closer. With unbelievable clarity, she saw the taut lines of his face and the grim slash of his mouth as he began to straighten up in the saddle.

  Fifty yards separated her from death. Twenty yards separated her from Kirk. Inexorably the rocks inched nearer.

  Suddenly Kirk was in front of her, his horse cutting hers off, edging it away from the rocks in a wide circle. As Kirk did this Cassandra eased back on the reins, and her horse’s head straightened out again.

  Kirk reached out and grasped her reins, almost at the bit, and began to slow his horse. A thousand lifetimes later, the horses stopped.

  Kirk dismounted quickly and went to Cassandra. He froze for a moment when he saw the chalky pallor of her face and the thin trail of blood that came from her cut lip. He reached up to her, grasping her stiff body and easing her to the ground.

  When she was next to him, her eyes still filled with fright, he couldn’t stop himself from taking her into his arms and holding her tightly.

  A moment later, he released her and stepped back. He looked into her eyes and saw life return to them. Then he looked up and saw a half-dozen riders approaching, Jane at their lead.

  He freed one arm from around her and waved to them, signaling she was okay. He was conscious of the concern on Jane’s face and nodded to her that Cassandra was all right. The hands turned their horses and started back toward the herd.

  When Kirk looked down at Cassandra again, he noticed some color had returned to her face. “You’re safe now; it’s over,” he whispered.

  Without warning, Cassandra began to shake. Kirk, taken off guard, saw her body tremble violently. He pulled her tightly to him, burying her face in his chest, but it didn’t help. Her legs went out from under her, but his arms tightened and he held her steady.

  “It was happening again,” came Cassandra’s muffled cry. “Oh, God, I was going to be hurt again,” she sobbed.

  Kirk said nothing. He just held her for a long time, until at last the shaking began to lessen.

  What was happening again? When was she hurt before? Suddenly Kirk understood her. He remembered the first afternoon in Wyoming when they walked to the corral. She had stopped and spoken in a tight, edgy voice. At the time, he hadn’t realized he’d seen fear on her face. He’d taken it for something else.

  Stupid! he called himself, remembering the day when he’d had Suzi saddled and brought out to her. He’d seen her face go tight, heard her voice crack, but had been blind to the pure fright suffusing her entire being.

  He hadn’t seen it because he hadn’t wanted to. He had wanted to see a spoiled, shallow woman whom he would not want to be in love with.

  “Cassandra,” he whispered, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m sorry.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Held back by her concern for Cassandra, Jane did not immediately follow the other hands. When she saw Kirk holding Cassandra and saw, too, the look of love and solicitude on his face, she thought perhaps this wild chase had been for the best.

  “Good luck, cousin,” she whispered as she started toward the herd.

  Behind her, Kirk loosened his grip on Cassandra. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Cassandra took several deep, calming breaths while she tried to organize her thoughts. His words kept echoing in her ears. ‘I’m sorry,’ he’d said.

  “Tell you what?” she asked finally.

  “That you’re scared to death of horses. Why?”

  Cassandra stepped out of his strong embrace. “Shouldn’t we get back?” she asked, avoiding both his question and his eyes.

  Kirk shook his head. “When we’re ready.” So saying, he turned toward the horses and grasped both leads. “Walk with me,” he whispered to her as he started to lead the horses back.

  Cassandra watched him approach and, surprisingly, felt no f
ear when she looked at her sweat-drenched mount. When her gaze returned to Kirk, the chilling memory of that other time, after the accident, when her father had brought her back to the riding club to ride again surfaced harshly. Was Kirk going to do the same thing?

  “I …” But she stopped when she saw the puzzled expression on his face.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Are you going to make me get on the horse now?”

  Kirk heard much more than the question. He studied her intently. “I was thinking a walk might help.”

  Cassandra’s breath exploded from her chest. “Thank you. It will.”

  They walked silently for several minutes, and Cassandra began to relax. She had survived her worst nightmare. She was alive, with only some minor pain in her rear end. She almost smiled—almost.

  Kirk was alone with his thoughts while they walked. All his preconceived ideas about Cassandra Leeds were falling apart and he was not trying to fight , but he couldn’t any longer, especially since he’d thought he might lose her, forever.

  “What made you so afraid of horses?” he asked after a few more minutes.

  “Does it really matter?” Cassandra asked listlessly, remembering how clearly Kirk had shown that her love was one-sided.

  Stopping, Kirk grasped Cassandra’s arm and made her face him. “Yes,” he said simply.

  Cassandra’s carefully maintained shell collapsed. “All right,” she whispered.

  For the next twenty minutes Cassandra spoke, telling him about everything that happened eighteen years before, from the moment she’d gotten on her father’s champion horse until she woke in the hospital three weeks later. She told him about the nightmares and the unending, paralyzing fear. Tears streaked her face when she finished.

  Kirk remained silent for several minutes after Cassandra finished. When he finally spoke, his words were emotional.

  “You’re a brave woman, Cassandra. Braver than a lot of men I know.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m just a scared little girl who pretends a lot.”

  “Don’t denigrate yourself. I meant what I said. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been treating you.”

  Cassandra’s heart fluttered and her stomach churned. His words were warm. Then she wondered if these emotions were just a carryover from the presence of danger.

  “Maybe I should try to get on the horse again,” she ventured in a low voice.

  “Only if you want to.” Kirk’s words were so different from her father’s long-ago, angry orders to a nine-year-old.

  “I ... I want to,” she declared in a firm voice.

  ~~~~

  Kirk unsaddled and tethered his horse and looked around. He saw Cassandra pouring herself a cup of coffee, along with several of the hands. Turning, he started toward two of the ranch hands when Jane stopped him.

  “Can we talk?” she asked.

  Kirk guided her from the men, stopping when they were far enough away for a private talk. “Go ahead.”

  “That was a hell of a chase.”

  “It was close,” Kirk replied.

  “Can’t you unbend a little? You almost killed your horse to catch her. When you did, I saw the way you looked at her. Can’t you admit how you feel, even now?”

  “What good will it do?”

  “You’re in love with her. Does she know it?” Jane asked.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jane mimicked sarcastically. “Like hell it doesn’t. Sometimes I can’t believe you’re the same man I know and love. The man who has all the answers: the man who always knew what to say and how to say it all. You taught me, which says a lot, but you can’t do it for yourself, can you?”

  “Not now, Jane.”

  “Then when?” Jane asked, her eyes boring into his. “When she’s gone?”

  Kirk shook his head and steadied his nerves. “Even if she did feel the same about me, it couldn’t work. We’re too different.”

  “Or too stubborn. She loves you, Kirk.”

  “She might have once, but not anymore,” he said with certainty.

  “Kirk—”

  “Enough,” Kirk stated, ending their conversation by walking away.

  “Oh, no, cousin, not by far,” Jane whispered to his back.

  Cassandra sat on her sleeping roll, staring up into the night. Her mind was constantly shifting, her thoughts not on the afternoon, but on the evening.

  What impressed Cassandra most was no one had mentioned her mishap. They had also included her in the random conversations that broke out spontaneously among the ranch hands sitting around the fires.

  For the first time since arriving at Twin Rivers, Cassandra had started to feel like she belonged. There was nothing overt in the way it had happened, but she was aware of the change it in the little gestures.

  However, the one event that brought home a true sense of belonging had occurred just before everyone had left the fire to go to sleep.

  Bill Norton, the rider who’d been with them when her horse had been spooked, stood and walked up to her. The men had grown silent, and Jane, who had been sitting next to her, had a shadowy smile on her face.

  Cassandra glanced at Kirk, sitting on the other side of the fire and saw him staring at her.

  “Miss Cassandra,” Bill had said, his voice rough but easy, “this is the last night of your first roundup, and we…the boys, I mean, wanted to give you a memento.”

  Cassandra tensed but continued to look up at him.

  Slowly Bill had slipped his hand from behind his back and held up a tannish object about three inches long. Cassandra had stared at it without recognition, until Bill shook it.

  Cassandra jumped. A round of laughter echoed in the night, and as the color had returned to Cassandra’s face, she’d tried to smile. “This came from that critter that tried to eat your horse,” Bill informed her and offered her the rattle.

  Forcing a smile to her lips, Cassandra gingerly took the rattle. She’d studied it closely and then looked directly at Kirk. “Doesn’t look half as mean as some people I know.”

  With that, more laughter had erupted around the campfire and Cassandra sensed a warmth she had never expected. From the corner of her eye, she’d seen Jane laughing. At the same time, she’d seen Jane’s gaze directed at Kirk, whose smile had become taut.

  After that, everyone had gone to their bedrolls, including Cassandra. But sleep was elusive.

  Shaking away her roaming thoughts, Cassandra stood, stretched, and walked away from the dying fires, a blanket under her arm. She needed to be away from people for a little while.

  ~~~~

  Kirk lay still on his bedroll, thinking back on Cassandra’s sad tale. For most of the day, he’d chastised himself for having always thought the worst of her.

  With her story, a new understanding of whom and what she was, and a breaking down of his false assumptions. He had apologized to her today but wondered if it was too late.

  He knew, too, if it was, it was his fault. He had been the one who’d passed judgment and set the rules.

  When he’d spoken to Jane, he’d been sure any future with Cassandra was impossible. Yet in the back of his mind, hope still existed.

  Through his churning thoughts, he saw Cassandra, who was a dozen paces away, stand and walk from the campsite. He watched her, knowing he would have to face her and face himself.

  Making his decision, Kirk followed Cassandra into the night.

  ~~~~

  Cassandra walked slowly, her mind racing with everything that had happened. But overpowering all her other thoughts was the memory of Kirk’s strong arms holding her tight while her body shook in reaction to the shattering ride. She had found, pressed securely to him, that she had been able to draw on his strength and fight for control of her mind.

  When she had calmed down and looked at his face, a flood of emotions had filled her body. She had wanted to tell him she loved him, but knew the futility of it. Yet he had been kinder and gentler with her tha
n ever before, and she did not want to chance losing that. It was all she could hope for.

  My parents raised me to want too much, she thought, feeling a deep sadness at the realization. Kirk had been good for her today; he had been strong when she needed him, and he hadn’t forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do.

  Even when he’d pushed her to talk about the accident, she’d sensed it was for her own benefit. When she’d finished the tale, it had somehow seemed distant, as if it had happened to someone else. Afterward, when she’d decided to try to ride the horse, she found herself nervous but unafraid.

  She realized now that by speaking aloud about what had happened so many years before, the words had been cathartic, releasing her from the suffocating bonds of fear.

  “Do you hate your father?”

  Startled, Cassandra whirled at Kirk’s voice, her hand going to her throat. A moment later, she lowered her hand.

  "Do you hate him?” Kirk repeated.

  “Hate him? Why?” she asked, puzzled by the question.

  “For sending you here. For preying on your fears in order to take advantage of you. For playing dirty to get what he wanted?”

  Cassandra heard anger in Kirk’s words, anger directed away from her. Her heart beat with a different emotion, and a heavy lump grew in her throat. “You really do care, don’t you?” she asked.

  Kirk stepped closer to her, and although it was the dead of night, he saw her features clearly. “I care, Cassandra. You know that.”

  “Kirk…” she whispered, closing the distance between them and reaching up to capture his mouth with hers. Her arms went around his broad back, and the blanket, so carefully tucked beneath her arm, fell to the ground.

  The world lit with the soaring explosion of their kiss as Cassandra leaned against him. When the kiss ended, they gazed deeply at each other for a long moment, until neither could stand the tension swirling around them.

  Kirk’s mouth descended again, slowly. This time their kiss was not a soul-shattering explosion of passion; rather, it a gentle kiss that spoke to their deepest feelings.

  As it had happened that first time, they found themselves lying on the blanket, wrapped in each other’s arms. Their bodies joined, their hearts beating as one as they raced toward the heavens, toward that special place in the universe that was theirs alone.