Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (20 page)

“Maybe it’s a sign.”
Clint placed her hand firmly between his. “I don’t want to lose you, Cassidy. I
love you. I want us to share these kinds of moments, and all the other kinds,
forever.”

Cassie struggled to
fend off the wave of panic suddenly washing over her. No way—she could never be
a mother, ever.

“Where are you at,
Cass? On us?”

His tone was
insistent. He wanted a declaration she couldn’t give. She rubbed her sweaty
palms on her shorts. Couldn’t he just be satisfied with what they had? Why did
it even have to have a name?

“This is no damn
fling, Cassie. You got to know that by now. We’re way beyond that.”

“I’m keenly aware
of that.” Could he see her panic? Caught between this man she didn’t want to
lose and a deep shame she hoped he’d never discover, Cassie couldn’t find
words. Finally, she said, “That doesn’t make things easier. Sometimes I feel
like I’m mired in quicksand.”

Clint recoiled as
if she’d slapped him.

Cassie flinched. “Please
don’t be angry—you mean so much to me, already, and the kids, too. I just don’t
know how it would ever work.”

She stroked his hand.
“Clint, you’re moving too fast for me. I’m not ready for more. Not now.” She
felt her voice constrict. “I don’t know if I ever will be—but I’m working on
it. I hope that’s enough, for now.”

Clint sighed and
his expression softened. “We’ve got time, Cassie. It can work. If we want it
badly enough.”

The phone rang.

“Okay,” Cassie said
into the phone, “we’ll be right there. Thanks for the afternoon. See you
shortly.”

“That was Silver
Hawk,” she said, shifting her attention back to Clint. “Supper’s about ready. And
she claims we owe her one.”

“I’m sure she does,”
Clint drawled. “I’ll get dressed.”

Cassie watched him
climb out of bed and reach for his clothes still scattered across the floor. Was
this an opportunity? “Tell me about the children’s mother. You said her death
was one of the three times you cried. You must have loved her dearly.”

He pulled a dark tee
shirt over his upper torso and cast her a wary glance. “Yes, I loved her very
much. I thought the moon and sun rose to bless her daily.”

Cassie nodded. “Was
she a full blood Ute?”

“No. She was
actually a little less than half Shoshoni. And then all those other things
white folks tend to be,” he added, grinning a lopsided smile. “Julie was from
the Wind River area in Wyoming. We met in college.”

“In college?”

“Yes, I went to
college. At Weber State.”

“What did you
study?”

“I have a degree in
criminal justice. Thought maybe I wanted to be a detective, but I much prefer
horses.”

Cassie’s brow
creased. “Well, I’ll be. Why don’t you ever tell me these things? Why do I have
to pry your life story out of you?”

“I just figured when
you wanted to know, you’d ask.”

“Damn, now I have
so many questions, but we have to go to supper or Silver Hawk will send out
flares and come in search of us. Don’t think you’re getting off easy though,
bud. You are really fair game now. I’ll write my questions down on paper. And I
won’t be put off until I get some answers. A detective?” she bantered, running
a brush haphazardly through her hair. “I don’t think we would’ve met if you’d
followed that route.”

“There, you see? Now
you know why I didn’t. Another question answered.”

“So that’s why you’re
so suspicious and seem to know something about investigating a crime.”

“I imagine I’m
naturally suspicious. I do have an old college buddy who runs a small private
detective agency here in Chicago. We may want to tap into his skills at some
point. He’d love to help. He’s always wanted me to be some kind of silent
partner. So far I’ve resisted the temptation. I’m not sure horses and detective
work mix.”

“About as well as
social work and horses, I suppose,” Cassie quipped. “Actually, right now we
seem to need to be a little of everything.”

“That’s often the
case. I’m game for whatever as long as
lovers
is included in that list.”

Giving him one last
hug, Cassie said, “Okay, wise guy, enough for now. I think a couple kids may be
feeling neglected. Let’s go see how firmly the two hellions have Dad wrapped
around their little fingers.”

Clint laced his
fingers through hers and grazed her lips with his. “I’m pleased you’re not
threatened by Julie.”

“Why should I be? She’s
still the children’s mother. I wouldn’t want anything or anyone to diminish her
in their eyes.”

“And you wonder why
I love you?” Clint patted her rump as they made their way down the loft stairs.
“Woman, you’re remarkable.”

Giggling, Cassie
raced happily down the steps. How could this be wrong for her—or for them?

After the last
dessert was eaten, after Clint had carried a sleeping Sammy to the car and
taken his family back to the hotel, Cassie collapsed on the living room sofa. “Wow!
What a day!” she said to her father. “The silence is soothing to the ears. How
did you manage it?”

“The nap helped. Maybe
I hear too much silence as a rule being here by myself most of the time,” he
said with a sly look. “You’re gonna have you hands full with them two. But I do
hope you’ll want another one or two.”

“Dad!” Cassie slouched
lower on the sofa. “Everybody seems to be trying to make my mind up for me,”
she complained. “It’s my decision.”

“I know, girl. I
didn’t mean to pressure you. But you are so good with Clint and the kids.” Tug
chuckled lightly. “And I’m not getting any younger. Would like to know that
Irish temper of yours is being passed along before I die.”

Cassie scowled. “Right,
no pressure. None at all.” She moaned and rubbed the back of her neck, watching
her father’s dismay spread across his face. “It’s all right, Dad. I love you
anyway.”

 She closed her
eyes and leaned back into the comfort of the worn sofa. It had been a very good
day. Her dad was right—she really did enjoy the kids.

And detective
Travers? No wonder he was so deliberate in seeking clues. She’d agreed to go by
the group home with him Monday morning. She wasn’t sure how she felt about
that. She’d been back only twice since she took leave. Would the kids at the
home feel betrayed by her absence? Would she want to go back sooner than
expected?

She still had more
than another six weeks of leave. Sometimes she wished she had a crystal ball. How
would she feel about her job by then? Cripes, how would she feel about anything
in another six weeks?

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“Nice location for
your office,” Clint said Monday morning, sidestepping dog excrement as they
made their way down the sidewalk to Cassie’s place of work.

Cassie glanced
around the familiar setting. The lot adjacent to her building sat vacant with
bald tires, an old remnant of a box spring, and a variety of rusted cans strewn
about. Its centerpiece was a burnt-out 1968 Impala. Papers of all shapes and
colors were blown up against a chain link fence that obviously kept no one out
or in.

“I didn’t say this
would be a scenic tour,” Cassie quipped as she climbed the steps ahead of him. She
knew the large two-story house needed some cosmetic repair, but it was kept up
well enough. Its owners leased out the building while trying not to put too
much money into it. They hoped gentrification would get to them soon.

As soon as Cassie
stepped through the door, she was assailed by familiar scents and sounds. The
place always smelled mildly of disinfectant, of too many bodies, especially in
the summertime, and of some sort of pasta cooking in the kitchen. The hum of
the place was the same. Bickering could be heard from upstairs, the crack of
billiard balls came from downstairs, and tone-deaf Mrs. Hampton, in charge of
the kitchen, droned along on an old gospel tune.

Cassie and Clint
made it no further than past the long second-hand leather sofa before being
accosted by a deafening scream. “Cassie! You’re back! I need to talk to you.”

A gangly young
woman hugged Cassie until both gasped for air.

“It’s good to see
you too, Daisy. I’m just back on a visit today,” Cassie said, separating
herself from the girl’s long arms. The girl looked even thinner than usual, and
she’d been underweight back in the spring.

“Oh, no. We need
you here. Raul can be mean without you around.” The young girl looked bereft as
she slouched before them in a white tank top and tattered bib overalls. Neither
shoes nor socks adorned her feet. Apparently not knowing quite where to put her
hands, she stuffed them inside her overalls.

Cassie smiled. “Now,
I doubt that a lot. Maybe I’m just a softy.”

“Well, you listen
better. And you don’t punish us for what others do.”

“Daisy, you know
that depends on how the group is taking responsibility. It’s good to see you,
but I can’t stay and talk. I’ve got to see Raul about some things. Quickly,
though, tell me how you’re doing with summer school?”

“I was kicked out,”
the girl complained, spitting out the words. Her eyes focused on the floor. “They
didn’t like me.”

“So that’s why you’re
hanging out here. Do they have you working on your basic math skills? Is anyone
helping you with your spelling? You have to get ready for the fall.”

“Yeah, that’s
happening. But it’s a pain in the butt. Maybe I won’t be here much longer. You
know my sister’s been married almost a year now. They should be settled soon.”

“You never know,”
Cassie said gently. “Things change. We have to be prepared for things not to
work quite like we hope they will.”

The girl frowned
and then shook her head, shrugging off Cassie’s words. Beaming a bright smile,
Daisy turned her attention to Clint. “Who’s your friend, Ms. O’Hanlon?

“This is Mr.
Travers, Daisy, and you can wipe that sloppy grin off your face. He’s none of
your business.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Daisy
replied. She ducked away, still smiling, obviously having found out exactly
what she wanted to know. “See yah.”

“Smartass kid!”
Cassie groused. But she did miss the repartee. It was good to be back in this
crazy environment. Then she remembered why they’d come. “Guess we’d better get
downstairs and talk to Raul. I’d like to be out of here before lunch is served
and more of the kids straggle in.”

- o -

Raul Hernandez sat
at his desk with papers strewn every which way. Piles of papers took up more
floor space than anything else, making the small office feel even more cramped.
As soon as he saw Cassie enter, he jumped up to hug her. “So when are you
coming back?”

His voice had an
enticing quality. Clint watched the shorter man’s easy smile. Laughter danced
in his eyes. Clint decided he liked the fellow, and he didn’t often make such
quick decisions about people. He wondered about the rusty ship’s bell that sat
on a small bookcase with books stacked on top of one another instead of side by
side. And he was curious why the man had chosen to hang on his wall a black and
white print of Don Quixote tilting at windmills. The picture, itself, hung at a
rakish angle.

Cassie broke the
embrace. “I’m due back in October.”

“We need you now.”

“I’ll be back in
October.”

Gesturing toward a
couple wooden chairs, he said, “Just set those reports on the floor somewhere. So
who is this dude?

“Raul, I’d like you
to meet a friend of mind, Clint Travers. Clint is from Utah and is in the horse
business.”

Clint reached
across the desk and the two men shook hands, each quietly assessing the other. “Cass
has told me a lot about you,” Clint said. “Most of which is good.”

“Better be. Welcome
to our home away from home.”

“Tell me, how are things
going?” Cassie inquired eagerly. “Are we full? How are the kids doing? Tell me
about Lucinda, Ricki, Rex.”

Clint gave Cassie a
sharp look. She really did miss this place. That had been evident when she’d
been accosted by the tall thin girl upstairs, who could have been anywhere
between fourteen and twenty-four. Clearly, Cassie was loved and respected. Would
she ever want to give up this world?

 “More of the same,
here,” Raul was saying. “Auditors—too damn many auditors.” He hefted a stack of
papers to prove his point. “Grant auditors. State auditors. County auditors. Fiscal
auditors. Program auditors. Building auditors. The list is endless. And we’re
supposed to be teaching kids about trust?

“We’re full at an
even dozen. Eight boys and four girls. We continue fighting with the state to
keep them from overloading us. Lucinda got pregnant while on a home visit. That’s
not too surprising. She’s going to keep the baby. Children’s Services says she
should give it up. At fifteen, she’s too young to be a mother, they claim.” He
lifted and dropped his shoulders. “She’s not too young to get pregnant.”

Cassie sighed. “So
much for all the talking and instruction on abstinence and birth control.”

“Rex was sent to
St. Charles for armed robbery. He’ll very likely finish serving his time as an
adult. He finally got what he wanted—to be in the big time.

“Ricki is our
success story of the quarter.” Raul’s tone took on the pride of a pleased
father. “He’s doing well at U of I. He’s taking a half-time load while working part-time.
He should be eligible for a good scholarship after this first year of proving
what he can do, even though his high school record was poor. He wants to be a
social worker. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, I can
believe it.” Cassie turned to Clint. “It’s the Rickis of the world, who make
something of themselves despite the projects, the drugs, and the crime, that
help us deal with the pain of losing the Rexes.”

Clint nodded. He
knew something about that. The same stories could have been shared about kids
he’d known on the reservation.

“So, young lady,
what’s on your mind? I doubt you came by to show off this gorgeous workplace to
your friend. And apparently you’re not yet ready to dust off your desk and get
back to work.” Raul stroked his mustache.

Before she could
speak, Raul addressed Clint, “Oh, by the way Clint, I’m a happily married man
with four kids. Thought I better get that settled. You’re a lot bigger than me.”

Clint smiled
easily.

“Men!” Cassie
snapped. “All right, you’ve had your fun. We’ve had some problems at the track.
Clint thought it might be tied into a kid or a family I’ve worked with in the
past.”

“Somebody’s been
drugging a horse Cassie is working with,” Clint said. “We were just wondering
if anyone has heard of a former resident having a grudge against her.”

Raul shook his
head. “Everybody likes Cassie. She has a good way about her. She can get a kid
to change his ways without putting him down.”

“How about when she
went on sabbatical?” Clint probed. “Sometimes kids take that personally.”

“Yeah, you got a
point there. You know something about this kind of work.”

Clint watched the
man stroke his mustache and draw a deep breath as he thought through the names
of kids.

“Sure, there were
tears,” Raul said at last. “Maybe…Harold was very angry when you left.”

Cassie nodded. “I
thought he’d get over it quickly enough. We spent a lot of time preparing him
for the transition.”

“It went on for
days.” Raul moved papers from one side of his desk to the other. There was pain
in his eyes when he glanced back up. “He tore up some games in the day room,
ripped apart some of his own personal items, and wrote
bitch
on your
office door. As you might expect, he received a series of consequences for his
behavior.” Raul shrugged. “Within two weeks he seemed to have gotten over his
anger. You were just one more adult who passed through his short life.”

Cassie squeezed her
shoulders and scowled.

“So where is Harold
now?” Clint asked. “Can we talk with him?”

Hernandez shrugged,
palms upward. “Don’t know. He left here in June. Once they’re out, we don’t
hear any more from them. He could be anywhere.”

“Great.”

“I doubt he has any
connection with the track, though. He’s an urban kid.”

Chuckling, Cassie
said, “And so are about half the people who work on shedrow.”

“You got me there. Afraid
I don’t know much about horses, or the track for that matter, but I do like to
go out and bet on the ponies now and then. But I imagine you’re right. Not all
the folks who work there are natural cowboys. So, how are you liking it, Cass? Are
those four legged beasts going to lure you away from us, or what?”

Clint tried not to
smile as Cassie took her time responding to her boss’ question.

“I can’t deny some
of it’s very satisfying. I love working with horses. But being a full-time
trainer is a tough life for anyone, especially for a woman.”

Clint knew she was
purposefully avoiding eye contact with him.

“No, this is my
career,” Cassie continued. “I do miss the kids and the crises. It’s hard to
imagine not being a social worker. It’s what I’ve trained to do.”

“My friend, you’ll
use your social work skill whatever you do and wherever you are,” Raul said. He
gave Cassie a quizzical look. “I want you back, but I trust you’ll follow your
heart, and that will be right for everyone.”

Cassie’s neck
turned crimson. Clint coughed—it hadn’t taken Raul long to pick up on Cassie’s
indecisiveness.

“Well, thanks
anyway,” Cassie mumbled. “We’d best be going. You have a mountain of work to do
and we have some horses to see to.”

“Sorry I can’t be
more helpful,” Hernandez said, rising to his feet.

“That’s okay,”
Clint interjected. “You’ve been very helpful. We can take it from here.”

“Hey,” Hernandez
shouted from his office doorway. Cassie turned at the top of the stairs to
listen. “You haven’t called with a hot tip yet. Remember, I’m a poor man who
would welcome a long shot coming in.”

Smiling, Cassie
called back, “Keep your money in your pocket. I don’t know a thing about
handicapping horses. I only train them.”

- o -

Walking down the
stoop, Cassie thought of Harold. She couldn’t prevent a nagging tingling
sensation from creeping down her legs. Could the villain at the core of the
drugging mess really be Harold? It had to be somebody at the track who was
getting to Hope. She hadn’t seen Harold since she’d gone on leave. But the
young boy was sixteen, and could have a job anywhere at the track.

“So, you miss the
place,” Clint said, making their way to the car.

Cassie knew he’d
made an assessment. It was a statement, not a question. She looked curiously at
him, wondering what he was really thinking and what he really wanted to ask. “I
miss it. At least part of it. I miss seeing light bulbs come on when a kid
finally gets it. I miss having them come back to show off their first paycheck
or some decent grades. I don’t miss seeing them move deeper into the system. Or
learning that one of my former kids endangered a life. I imagine I miss the
pace some. There’s always a crisis happening. You’re needed every moment of the
day.”

“Sounds like you’re
describing parenting.”

Faltering slightly,
Cassie whispered, “I suppose you may be right.”

“So why did you
choose to be a social worker?”