Casey's Courage (17 page)

Twenty minutes later, as she examined her reflection, she breathed a sigh of relief. “At least, you clean up respectably well.”

The wavy layers of her auburn hair framed her lightly made-up face as the stylist had intended. The soft, washed-denim skirt and over-blouse trimmed in lace and seed pearls hugged the gentle curves of her slender body. Slipping her feet into soft, blue leather pumps, she leaned in close to the mirror. “Out of all the scenarios you planned, not one of them came close to this, so stay alert or you’re a ‘sunk duck’.” Making a face at her image, she turned away and went to the Blue Room.

Casey saw Leila look at Jordan in disbelief and laugh with eyes twinkling as they appeared at the door of the Blue Room.

“She doesn’t believe that I remember when this monstrosity of stone didn’t have electricity,” Jordan said.

“It is hard to imagine,” Casey said. “How was it lighted?”

“With gaslights, kerosene lamps, and tallow candles. I can still smell the things.”

Casey handed them tea as they sat. “Of course, electricity was all over the country by the time we came here. I was eight the first Thanksgiving my parents brought me to Spencer Mansion for the traditional ranch gathering. Every chandelier, sconce, and lamp shone. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

“Are your parents neighbors to Jordan’s family?” Leila asked.

Casey picked up the tone in Leila’s question, one that hinted at a problem with social status. Instead of feeling the weight of all her parents’ lectures on the wide social gap between the Masons and the Spencers, she saw humor in the situation. She enjoyed adding a little fuel to the fire.

“My dad manages the horse operation for the Running S. We moved into the old headquarters place and Dad supervised the construction of facilities for a state-of-the-art horse operation and implemented a breeding program that produces some of the best quarter horses in the world.” Then she turned to Jordan. “Have you seen the temperature-controlled breeding barn and the foaling barn?”

“No,” he said. “I just realized who you are. You rode the ranch horses while you attended college. Mattie Lou had the local paper sent to me all these years and your name appeared in it regularly.”

“The Running S horses are a source of pride to the whole community.” Casey diverted attention from herself. “Just a few days ago Dad hired two equestrians to start riding the horses in competition again. He and Tres are making plans to resume at the beginning of next year.”

“Why are you not riding them anymore?” Leila asked. “Had you stopped winning?” The condescending note in her melodious voice did not escape Casey.

“I sustained an injury in an accident during a horse sale a few weeks after J.D.’s death. I’ve only recently been released from a rehabilitation program with a physical therapist. I’ll probably never ride competitively again.”

After a few seconds of awkward silence that Casey did nothing to alleviate, Leila said, “I’m sure the Spencers have taken care of you admirably since you were in their employ.”

The remark raised Casey’s hackles, but she offered no response, since it wasn’t a question. She faced Jordan. “I would be happy to drive the two of you around the ranch tomorrow if you’d like to visit old haunts and maybe see some of the improvements made since you were last here,” she said. “Mattie Lou and Tres should be home for dinner tomorrow evening.”

Before he answered, he turned to Leila. “Do you think you’ll be up to riding in a pickup to see part of the ranch?”

Casey watched a look of pure adoration light up Leila’s face. “I would love to see the places that you remember from your childhood.”

As tea, tiny sandwiches and slices of rich cake were consumed, Casey kept thinking,
What to do with their guests until dinnertime
? She gave a prayer of thanks when Jordan nodded at Leila and said, “Since you’ll be going about on the ranch tomorrow, you probably need to get settled then rest until dinner.”

“That is so thoughtful of you. We have been quite a distance in the car the last two days.”

He turned to Casey. “Is there a computer here that I can get online with? I need something more than the laptop I’m carrying.”

“Yes, there’s one in the main office.” She got up out of her chair with ease, thankful that all the grueling hours of therapy had paid off. Setting her cup onto the sideboard, she punched the button that reached the kitchen.

Jordan gave Leila his hand. “I’ll see Leila settled, then be back down.”

Lara appeared, having seen Casey’s call. “I’ll be happy to help Mrs. Spencer,” she said.

Leila understood being catered to. “Thank you, Lara. Jordan, go along about the business I know you’re eager to do. I’ll be fine with Lara.”

In the main office, Casey watched Jordan stand and survey the area in remembrance. “I’m amazed at the polish this old place has now.” He turned his attention to Casey, who said, “This computer should be capable of doing whatever you need to do.”

“Will I be apt to disrupt any of Tres’ business?”

Casey shook her head and smiled. “No, his computer set up is in his private office behind that door. We all avoid that room. I don’t think he even lets the maid dust.”

Jordan clicked on the computer. “That doesn’t sound like the Tres I know. He was totally unconcerned about security the short time we were in business together.”

Casey wanted to say that maybe he didn’t know Tres, but instead turned toward the door to leave. “Maybe time and a few hard lessons made him change.”

Rosalinda had Kari serve dinner in a small dining room with a round table perfectly set with white linen, Fostoria crystal, Lenox china, and sterling silver flatware that Casey couldn’t recall the name of. She marveled at how quickly she had eased into dining rather than ‘grabbing a bite’ between workouts and study. College and circuit riding had impacted her life, but gracious living at Spencer Mansion had its impact, too.

Casey silently applauded Rosalinda’s expertise. While tender, ranch beef dominated, an exotic-looking fish entree as well as a chicken concoction, were served along with crisp salad, fresh vegetables, rolls, and a caramel dessert made from a special Mexican recipe.

They had chilled water with the meal and rich coffee with dessert. Casey decided the wine selection was best left to Tres or Mattie Lou. Her experience with such was limited.

A much-refreshed Leila ate with a good appetite as the conversation revolved around the Mansion that Jordan remembered. “Do you remember this room?” she asked.

Jordan glanced about him. “Sure, but back then my mother and the women who helped in the house used it for a sewing room. The afternoon light through those windows made it perfect for doing close work. I remember two or three treadle machines, a loom, a cutting table and all kinds of racks and forms sitting around.”

Leila beamed at him. “Are you beginning to feel like it is home?”

“Sorry, I’m afraid not. I don’t even remember the layout.”

Casey saw the disappointment on Leila’s face.

“Some areas have been remodeled and a completely new wing has been added in the past few years.”

Leila frowned. “Wouldn’t it ruin the design to add onto such a magnificent house?”

Jordan gave a short, gentle chuckle. “My dear, every generation felt obligated to leave its mark on the place.”

She still looked concerned.

“They have always been careful about how they did it,” Jordan said. “Stone from the same quarry was always used and the most able craftsmen were hired.”

Leila put her tiny little hand on Jordan’s arm. “But, Jordan, what kind of mark will you leave?”

After a short pause, Jordan spoke. “A generation will be skipped. Tres will have to make a mark for two generations, I guess.”

Leila frowned. “That’s just not right.”

Realizing Jordan did not plan to respond to his wife’s statement, Casey said, “You might like to roam around and explore after dinner. Or I’d be happy to guide you even though I can’t supply much history.”

“What do you think, Leila, shall we let Casey give us a tour so we don’t get lost?” He grinned. “I can furnish the history.”

“Do you know your way around the whole mansion?” Leila asked Casey.

“I think I’ve looked in every nook and cranny. Mattie Lou’s health has not been at its best the past few weeks, so I’ve helped her inspect everything as she prepared for your visit. She’s so pleased about your coming.”

With alarm in his voice, Jordan said. “Is her heart the problem, or what?”

Casey realized Mattie Lou had not mentioned her arthritis to her son. “Her heart is fine. Rheumatoid arthritis came on suddenly, not long after J.D. died. She is getting a new kind of treatment that seems to be helping tremendously. But she has to be careful not to overdo.”

Leila looked like a light bulb had just come on in her head. “Then you are employed as Mattie Lou’s companion now that you are unable to ride horses.”

Casey recognized the same mindset her dad had about the line between her and the Spencers. Choosing to ignore Leila’s remark, she said, “Why don’t we start with the acclimatized solarium? It is a particular joy to Mattie Lou.”

“Does she still have roses all over the place?” Jordan asked.

Casey glanced at him. “Oh, yes, and she is always looking for new varieties. But her interests broadened when Ignacio came from the interior of Mexico to take care of the Mansion grounds. On his first trip back home after he had been here a while, he brought back several varieties of orchids and put them in the hothouse with the other flowers and vegetables grown in there. Mattie Lou fell in love with them and things evolved from there.”

As they crossed a sitting area to the solarium with its muted light, Casey heard Leila catch her breath.

“Jordan, look!” She didn’t wait for someone to open the heavy glass door, but pushed it herself and stood transfixed in the little manmade rain forest.

Before he and Casey entered the solarium, he said, “Her family descended from Hawaiian royalty. She is second generation New Yorker, but they all consider themselves living in exile from their rightful home. This has to remind her of their island kingdom that I’ve heard them talk about as if it will someday be theirs to rule again.”

They watched the pretty, little, woman move reverently from one orchid to the next, stopping to touch different tropical plants as she moved around the room with its misty glass roof showcasing the night sky. Casey had never seen the solarium by night and had to agree with Leila. It was a magical place.

The evening was well spent by the time Leila had named and exclaimed about nearly every plant in the whole solarium.

Exploring the remainder of the Mansion had to wait for another time.

The next morning, as Casey stopped the pickup in a clearing on the highest spot on the ranch, Jordan stepped out. “Listen, Leila!” He gave a cowboy yell like he had as a teenager. It echoed across the canyons, on and on.

“Whatever are you doing?” Leila giggled as he helped her down from the big vehicle.

Casey watched as he directed his wife’s eyes south to the border of Mexico then in all the other directions as he talked about how the Running S expanded over the years. As he explained to Leila about how many miles the ranch stretched in each direction, Casey edged away, leaving the two alone, but before she was out of earshot she heard Leila say, “Jordan, this is your kingdom and your heritage. Your son has usurped your position. Why did you allow it?”

Chapter 14

Casey maneuvered the pickup through several pastures so Jordan and Leila saw fat cattle, sleek mares, and colts while getting glimpses of pronghorn antelope, whitetail, and mule deer.

As noontime neared, Casey said, “Rosalinda packed a picnic lunch. Shall we make our way across to the line cabin on the rim of Dark Canyon to eat? You can see one of the lowest areas on the ranch in contrast to the highest.”

“Sounds like a good plan. What do you think, Leila?” Jordan asked.

“I trust you, Jordan. I’m completely lost in the vastness of it all.”

Casey parked in the shade of the Alligator Juniper and soon had Leila in the cabin directed toward the bathroom. Casey felt sure all would enjoy the picnic lunch, sitting around the cabin table without having to deal with bugs and wind. The New York Spencers made no effort to help with the putting out or cleaning of the meal. Casey saw humor at their expecting to be waited on, even in a cabin.

After lunch, they hiked to the rim of the canyon, where Casey showed them the ravages of the recent raging waters, but made no mention of the militants or the grueling trip in and out of the treacherous abyss.

As the sharp wind whipped up the wall of the canyon, threatening to whirl them over the edge, Leila shivered and turned away. “Jordan, this is a frightening place. I think I would like to go back to the Mansion. I feel rather tired.”

Putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to him, he shepherded her toward the pickup. “We’ll go back right now.”

Casey breathed a sigh of relief when the rather wilted Leila disappeared through the front door of the Mansion with Jordan by her side in careful attendance.

When she took the picnic basket to the kitchen, Rosalinda announced that Tres and Mattie Lou had returned.

“They were both miserable about not being here when company arrived,” the housekeeper said. “But I told them we managed just fine. Mattie Lou looks good, not a bit tired like I thought she’d be.”

“Maybe a trip away from home and responsibility as well as getting to spend some time alone with her grandson was good for her,” Casey said, relaxing a little herself. She turned to leave the kitchen.

“Dress for dinner,” Rosalinda ordered. “Mattie Lou will.”

Time enough to dress for dinner, Casey told herself. She wiggled into a swimsuit, pushed the button to roll back the cover on the pool, and watched it peel away to let the steam from the heated water create a misty fog in the autumn air. The smell of chlorine assailed her nose as she slid into the water reminding her of the time Tres swam with her, then kissed her. That kiss had held a hint of chlorine taste but so much more. The heat inside her as she thought of that day made her skin sensitive to the water washing around her as she swam lap after lap.