Casey's Courage (2 page)

“Not all that much to tell, really. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time with some money to invest.” Activity in the corral caught his eye again. He felt like he was in a time warp as he watched Casey, an intriguing, grown-up Casey. His pulse quickened at the sight of her. J.D.’s voice jerked him back.

“I never did understand why you left like you did, so soon after your mother died. And whatever happened to your engagement to that pretty Melanie?”

Tres marshaled his thoughts. He and his granddad had kept in touch about business and impersonal things all the years he was in Australia, but no mention had been made of Tres’ personal affairs or his decision to leave the country. Now that Tres was back so they could look each other in the eye, he knew J.D. had no qualms about meddling and expecting straight answers.

Tres mulled over just how to tell his granddad that Melanie Thurston did not believe in monogamy, a fact Tres had learned only days before he was to be married. “After Mother died, I had to make several trips out of town to get all her business settled. One night, when I came home unannounced, I learned my fiancée and I didn’t share the same views about marriage, so we parted company.” Tres realized, in all the years since that night, he had never told anyone that he’d found Melanie with more than one sex partner in his bed having quite a party. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt now. “Sick of it all, I left her, my demanding high finance job, and high society. I went bush.”

“You could’ve come here,” J.D. said. A hint of reprimand colored his voice.

“I guess I went a little wild. I invested every dime of my inheritance from Mother in some chancy opportunities that luckily made money. I even invested in one of my inventive college friend’s venture into high tech stuff.”

“So, now that you’re a billionaire, how long do you think you can stand to be stuck off in the wilds of West Texas? Will you be running off to live in New York like your daddy?”

“No New York for me. I’ll hang around as long as you’ll have me. If I never see inside another boardroom or lawyer’s office, it’ll be fine with me. After all the long, tedious negotiations I endured to sell my holdings Down Under to that Australian Ranchers’ Co-op, I know I never want to be that entangled in business again. Dad lives and breathes high finance with its wheeling and dealing, but it’s not for me.”

The noon heat became oppressive, but J.D. continued to press Tres for more information and threatened Brad with dire consequences for insisting he go inside the RV for a rest.

Mattie Lou put her hand on her husband’s shoulder. “I bet Tres would like to eat at the chuck wagon with the men and visit.” She smoothed her hand down J.D.’s arm. “He might just like to drag out a few calves for old time’s sake. If you rest this afternoon, maybe after supper tonight, you’ll feel like showing him all the trophies you were talking about.”

Grumbling, J.D. got out of his chair with Brad’s help. “Always somebody around trying to run my life. Tres, go make yourself useful. I certainly can’t do anything, anymore. Dan does a fine job, but the ranch needs you.”

Dan Brown, the foreman of the Running S for as long as Tres could remember, greeted him with a nod and handshake. Nobody would figure this crusty old cowboy for a graduate of Texas Christian University with a specialty in Ranch Management. He was sweaty, dusty, and blood spattered from having taken a turn at castrating calves.

“Tres, about time you showed. Grab a plate. Maybe J.D. can rest a little easier now with you here. Not being able to be in the thick of things still galls him.”

“That last heart attack hit him hard, didn’t it?”

“Didn’t look like he’d pull through for a time. But he hired that fellow, Brad, and had that RV customized so it’s a rolling emergency room. Now he and Mattie Lou show up anywhere work is going on.”

“How is Mattie Lou handling all this?”

“Just like all the other hard times they’ve coped with over the years. She’s steady as a rock.”

“She’s always seemed invincible to me,” Tres said. “But she and J.D. have always seemed like a matched set. I thought she might crater at the possibility of losing him.”

“Not Mattie Lou,” Dan said.

Tres watched Jake and Casey across the fence on the other side of the corral as he and Dan squatted down in the lacy shade of a big mesquite to eat. The father and daughter stripped the riding gear off their sweating mounts, then upended their saddles beside a fancy maroon trailer that sported bold white letters
RUNNING S QUARTER HORSES
with smaller letters for
Trainer, Casey Lee Mason, Cielo Alto, Texas
. A heavy-duty maroon pickup with a customized sleeper completed the rig, most likely her transportation during her college years.

Dan watched Tres. “J.D. wasn’t stingy with his money when he sent Casey off to his old alma mater Texas A&M University,” Dan said. “When she started winning regularly, he went hog wild.”

Tres glanced at Dan. “He sounded really proud of her.”

“You bet he is. She made the rodeo team at A&M her first year, putting the Running S horses right up there with the best of ‘em, then she went pro.”

“Jake must have changed,” Tres commented. “He’d never let her get so far from his control when I knew him.”

“He didn’t change. J.D. just overcame every reason Jake gave for her not being able to go.”

Tres watched as Jake and the slim, curvy, grown-up Casey started toward the chuck wagon. The photographer stopped her. Jake walked on, filled a plate, and joined Tres and Dan. He shook Tres’ hand as if they might have seen each other just yesterday. “Good to see you.”

“Looks like Casey got shanghaied,” Dan said.

“That picture-taking fellow said he needed some information about the horses,” Jake said. “Never can tell about his sort. No telling what he really wants.”

They talked about the dry weather, the price of cattle, labor problems, the possibility of rustlers or poachers operating in different areas of the 300-section ranch as if Tres had been around all the time, rather than being halfway around the world for the last decade.

Part of Tres’ mind followed the conversation, while another part thought about Casey. She had been a winsome little freckle-faced mystery the first time they met, no longer a child and not yet a woman. She’d filled a need in his life, made him feel useful and appreciated. That long-ago summer still stayed in his mind like a window through which he saw sunlight, peace, and happiness. Never before, or since, had life been so uncomplicated and good.

Tres shifted to adjust the tightness of his jeans. Primal need stirred his body as he watched Casey get a plate of food from the chuck wagon and eat as she stood talking with the photographer. He forced his attention back to Dan and Jake. He wondered what was going through Jake’s mind, when the sound of Casey’s laughter reached them. He frowned. Tres stood up from his squat, turned, and stretched. “Reckon it’d be okay for me to drag a few calves?”

Jake stood, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Sounds good to me.” He looked at Dan. “Didn’t you want about half of this herd put in the Cottonwood Springs pasture?”

“Yeah, I’d planned to turn ‘em out in the pasture bordering Dark Canyon but three times in the past few months the men have found fences down. The fencing crew needs to get everything back up in shape so we don’t end up with cows and calves down in that brushy canyon at shipping time. I figured we’d have to make another day of it. But if Tres really wants to get hot and dirty for the rest of the day, you could take some of the boys and drive everything we worked this morning over to Cottonwood Springs. How about it, Tres?”

Tres grinned at the ranch foreman who had been his mentor for many summers of his teenage years. “I think I can last for one afternoon.”

They took their empty plates back to the chuck wagon, and then headed to a small corral to saddle fresh horses.

“Casey brought that big black gelding, over there by her trailer, for a spare. You might want to try him. Sure rides smooth,” Jake said.

“Maybe we better ask her first. She may not want a stranger on her horse.”

“Don’t guess she’ll object. She’s going to start teaching psychology over at the college this fall. Won’t have much time for keeping horses in top shape then.”

The peevish note in Jake’s voice amused Tres. Jake was obviously not happy about his daughter’s interest in something other than horses.

Casey excused herself when she saw the three men heading toward the horse corral. Handing her plate to the photographer to dispose of, she angled across to meet them.

As soon as she was in earshot, Jake said, “Tres will be roping with you. I’m going to take some of the men and drive part of this bawling bunch over to the Cottonwood.”

Casey smiled, giving no indication that her heart pounded like a trip hammer. “Hello, Tres, nothing like coming home and getting put to work. How’ve you been?” For many years she had taken her cue from her father and did so today—
no sentiment
allowed.

Tres took his hat off and ran a forearm over his forehead. “Getting by. How about you?”

“Can’t complain.” She twisted in a half turn, stretching her sweaty, dust-covered shirt snug against her as she pointed to the black horse. “That’s Raven over by the trailer. He should fit you to a tee. Want to give him a try?”

If it had been a one-eyed mule he would have said ‘yes.’ His mind was not on a horse but on the luscious curves her loose shirt hid. “Suits me.”

The creak of leather and the snort of the horses as saddles were cinched snug were the only sounds as everybody got ready for a long, hot, afternoon’s work. As Tres saddled Raven, he watched Casey saddle a fresh horse. Her graceful, subtly sensual moves made him forget he’d sworn off women. She’d become a beauty with high cheekbones, a straight little nose, green eyes, and creamy skin, not a freckle in sight.
Where’d those cute little-girl freckles gone?
Her dusty, well-worn cowboy hat shaded those delicate features from the hot West Texas sun. His hand itched to take the hat off and touch the auburn hair hanging in a single braid halfway to her waist. She even made faded jeans and a chambray shirt look good. He wondered if any of the intense, inquisitive little-girl characteristics that had drawn him to her that summer remained, or if the devious ways of women had taken their place.

Casey and Tres eased into the rhythm of the back and forth from the herd to the branding fire. As she performed the repetitive work, she recalled the first time she saw Tres and the idyllic summer that followed. That day, so long ago, they were working cattle in these same corrals that they worked in today. Even though she’d been only thirteen years old, she rode better than most cowboys. The morning she met Tres, her dad, in the early dawn, had put her on Buster, a long-legged gelding. He had told her to take the outside of the four-section pasture, then instructed her to push the cattle she found ahead of her until another rider crisscrossing the pasture came to drive them toward the middle.

Tres had ridden up soon after she’d handed off the first bunch of cows. To this day she didn’t know how much of her stripping he had seen. She’d stopped in the shelter of a Cottonwood grove, taken off her denim shirt, pulled off a soft cotton undershirt she’d worn over her training bra. After putting the denim shirt back on, she unzipped her jeans, stood up in the stirrups, and stuffed the undershirt into the crotch of her jeans.

She remembered how the cramps had racked her body with pain and how she’d railed at her stupid, monthly period. She’d forgotten the time of the month and had left home unprepared, forcing her to make do with what she had.

Tres’ horse had whickered to Buster while still some distance away, giving her time to fasten her belt and kick her mount into a trot before Tres shouted, “I overslept and got a late start. Where do I need to work?”

Embarrassed, besides being in pain, she’d given a waspish reply. “How should I know? Dan Brown or my dad tells us where to work. Ask one of them.”

By that time, he was close enough for her to see the amused sparkle in his gray-blue eyes and the whiteness of his teeth in contrast to his tanned face. His smile turned to a look of concern. “Are you sick?”

“No.”

Surprise had flickered across his face. “I’m Tres, J.D.’s grandson. I’ll help you work the outside if that’s okay.”

“Suit yourself,” she’d shouted as she rode away.

Cindy Girl’s snort pulled Casey back to the present. Casey’s own inner snort was just as loud as Cindy Girl’s.
Pay attention and act like an adult, not a lovesick kid.

Casey heeled another calf and started toward the branding fire, all the while watching Tres work. Damp patches of sweat coated with dust formed on his shirt, accenting the muscles rippling across his back. She wondered what it would feel like to touch those rippling muscles. Tres, who had been her long-ago counselor telling her about what to expect during high school and college, was no longer the lanky, loose-jointed college graduate, but a man with honed muscles that enhanced his masculinity, a man who made a warmth pool deep inside her, a man who made her restless.

Echoes of her dad’s stern voice still rattled around in her head.
Tres is the Spencer heir. We work for the Spencers. We are not a part of their social circle. You remember that.

Finally, the last calf, branded and vaccinated, staggered back to the herd. Casey headed to the trailer, leaving the cowboys to the finishing-up tasks.

Tres fell in beside her. “Thanks for the loan of Raven. He knows his stuff. Did he go to college with you?”

Casey looked over at dusty, sweating Raven. He didn’t much look like a show horse today. “Yes, he spent the last two years with me and won several trophies. He’s bigger and stouter than most I’ve trained, but he is one of the best.”

As they rode up to her rig, Tres asked, “Do you have time to take me to the Mansion?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind hanging around a few more minutes. I see the photographer is jogging this way.”

Tres frowned. “What could he want?”

Casey stepped off her horse, dropping the reins. “He’s coming back to take pictures at the horse sale in a few weeks. He probably wants to verify the schedule.”