Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (28 page)

“But…”

“No, it’s over. That’s
all there is to it. I don’t need a replacement man. And I don’t want to talk
about it anymore, especially here.” She picked up her fork in an attempt to
eat.

“When do you think
you’ll move back to your North Side apartment?” Traci asked, twirling linguini
around her fork.

Cassie went blank. She
hadn’t given that any thought. Why not? “I haven’t planned that far ahead. There
are several weeks left on my leave of absence. We have to get past the Land of
Lincoln Stakes before I can think much about any kind of future.”

“You better start
thinking and taking control of your own life pretty soon,” Susan chided. “Life
is too short to let others run it for you.”

Cassie focused on
the ice cubes floating in her water glass. “Doesn’t anyone else have a life to
talk about? Why is it always me we’re picking on?”

“Now girl, don’t go
getting defensive,” Ashton said, resting a hand on Cassie’s arm. “We’re just
concerned for you. But what about Cassie’s Hope? Will she win on Labor Day
Weekend? That’s what I want to know. I plan on being there, and I’ve saved up a
little stash to use as my betting poke.”

At last Cassie had
something to smile about, and she did so brilliantly. “There are no guarantees
in horse racing, but I think Hope has a great chance to win. And you should get
some fairly good odds on her. Just don’t blame me if she loses,” she added with
a twinkle in her eye.

Luxurious. Heavenly.
Romantic. Cassie lifted large globs of bath suds with her palm and blew them
into the air. She had been in the tub for nearly an hour, letting cool water
drain while adding hot. This was a superb idea. Pampering needed to be done
with no sense of time.

She would not rush.
In fact, for the first night in recent memory, she wouldn’t even set an alarm. An
assistant would take care of the animals at the track, and she’d placed extra
hay out for those at the farm. If she didn’t awaken until mid-morning, that
would be all right. What a concept.

Later, as she
patted herself dry with a huge terry cloth towel, a wave of loneliness nearly
brought Cassie to her knees. Tears spontaneously threatened to overwhelm her
mellow mood. Looking in the mirror, she stood stock still, chagrined by the
sunken eyes looking back at her. Was she really that bad off? Letting the towel
drop to the floor, she realized she’d lost some weight over the last two weeks.
Her dad had been harping at her about eating like a bird. But she didn’t have
much of an appetite. And what woman couldn’t stand to lose a few pounds?

Her lips turned
downward as she brushed her fingers against her heaving breasts. It was the
wrong thing do. Immediately, sensations of other fingers, of his fingers
caressing those nipples flashed through her muscle memory.

“Damn,” she
grumbled, “can’t I even touch myself without thinking of him? He’s gone. Get
out of my loft. Get out my life,” she shouted to memories. Kneading her
forehead, she tried to prevent a headache from developing into a full-fledged
head splitter.

Cassie flipped off the
light switch, crawled under the covers without even taking the time to put on
her Bears night shirt, and hugged herself into a tight ball. She couldn’t stop
the sobbing. She couldn’t stop the flood of memories—of his touch, his words of
hope, his kids’ innocent love, of a future she’d finally been prepared to embrace.

They’d nearly made
it happen. She had finally convinced herself that she could be the mother her
mother wasn’t. She’d been willing to take the risks of looking at career and
living options. She’d been ready to declare her love just as Clint had done. And
then.

Everything had gone
up in smoke.

Would she ever be
able to pull herself together again? So much had changed. She’d opened herself
to a kind of pain that had no mercy. Never again. She’d gird herself with some
sort of emotional Teflon that would resist leaps of passion, that would protect
her from unwanted romantic intrusions, and that would guard her from men with
good looks and sweet words.

Mercifully, sleep
overtook her.

Without aid of an
alarm clock, she was up by five-thirty. It was dawn when she entered the barn. Cassie
took a deep satisfying breath. Smells of hay, straw, leather, and horse
commingled, soothing her pain from the night before.

“This is good,” she
murmured. “Horses will do the best they can whenever they have a chance. They
don’t get blown apart by emotional land mines.”

- o -

Fifteen hundred
miles away, Clint Travers was convinced he could forget the red-haired minx, if
his family would just let him. As he carried another bale of hay from the wagon
to the pole barn that already held several hundred bales, he couldn’t keep the
faces of his family from haunting his every step. There was no escaping their
ire and disappointment.

His sister hadn’t
spoken over a dozen words to him since he’d returned to the ranch. She just
glared at him, as if trying to cast a spell.

Lester and Sammy
asked questions he ignored. They had placed a picture of Cassie on the mantle
along with souvenirs collected in Chicago. It looked like a damn shrine. But he
wasn’t going to let it bother him. He could make them take it down, but he
wouldn’t stoop that low.

When he entered his
mother’s house, she’d only pursed her lips and said, “You’re back.” That was
it, he thought grimly. Fortunately, he’d been able to avoid his grandmother so
far.

Clint stopped at
the truck to retrieve a jug of water. Taking off his hat, he rinsed his face
and neck, then took a few sips. He still fumed every time he thought of the
woman not trusting him—not trusting
them
. If she’d had more faith in
him, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Well, he wasn’t in a mess really. That was
the past. He just hadn’t found away to disconnect, to move on.

Maybe he should go
into town and party some. Even the thought tasted like stale beer. He wasn’t
ready for partying yet. He certainly wasn’t ready to get involved with another
woman. Maybe never. Horses were more reliable—and when they were startled or
angry, they’d only try to kick you. They wouldn’t destroy your dignity and your
honor.

Looking up from his
truck, Clint groaned, “Here comes trouble. Well, let’s get it over with.” His
bent-over grandmother picked her way slowly but steadily along the rutted
driveway toward her destination. There was no doubt that
he
was her
destination.

“Nice day,
Grandmother,” Clint said casually in greeting. “It’s good to see you.”

“Humph,” she
retorted. “So good I have to walk miles to see if you are still alive.”

He ignored her
sense of drama, sure that as usual she’d been able to hitch a ride to the road
a mile from his driveway. “If you’d get a phone, you could’ve called.”

“Don’t change the
subject,” the old weathered woman declared. “So, tell me about Fire Woman.”

“There’s nothing to
tell.” Clint stiffened, crawling into his defensive shell.

“Don’t try avoiding
me. You can’t do it. Never have, never will. I want to know what happened
between the two of you. Everybody else here has told me how unhappy they are. But
you have not sought me out. I want to know. You will tell me. Now.” After one
of the longest speeches in her life, Clint’s grandmother waited without
shifting a muscle.

Frowning, Clint
knew there was no way to escape. “Okay, Grandmother. Sometimes you can be quite
frustrating, you know.”

“I’m quite sure of
that,” she said without smiling.

Clint took her
through the story the best he could. He left out the lovemaking parts. Even she
didn’t need to know about that. By the time he finished, he was leaning against
the front fender of the truck, much more relaxed than he’d expected. It was his
turn to wait.

His grandmother
didn’t respond immediately. She looked steadily toward the eastern horizon
before speaking. “Do you love Fire Woman?”

Shifting his weight
uncomfortably, Clint chose his words carefully. “I did. I surely did. But not anymore.
No, I don’t love her anymore.”

“That’s too bad.” Looking
deep into his soul, the old woman spoke softly, “She loves you.”

“Come on,
Grandmother. How do you know that? She never said that. She tried to bring
dishonor to me, and through me, to the family. I’d think you’d be on my side on
this one.”

The old woman
chuckled. “If you truly thought that, I expect you would have come to see me…I
saw Fire Woman last night in a small bedroom over a stable. She was weeping big
tears. Her heart was crying for you. She loves you.” The words were spoken
matter-of-factly. There was no need to dress them up.

Clint didn’t want
to believe. He refused to believe. “That can’t be, Grandmother. You must have
been dreaming.”

“Humph. You should
hear yourself, Grandson,” the elder woman chided. “You have lost your bearings.
How do you know she doesn’t love you?”

“That’s easy. She
never once uttered those words.”

Again, his
grandmother studied the eastern sky before replying. “You did not hear those
words with your ears, but did you listen with your heart?” The woman thumped
her heart with an open palm. “When she lay upon your chest after making love,
did you not hear those words from her heart, speaking to your heart?”

“Grandmother,”
Clint protested.

The old woman
raised her hand to still her grandson. “Because I am old, you think I do not
know the ways of love. I never forget. Somehow you have lost your way. You are
confusing pride with honor. How honorable were your actions over the last two
weeks?”

Clint refused to
answer.

“I can see that
talking to you is a waste of my time. You don’t really know you’re lost.” Her
features relaxed. “When you do, Grandson, come and see me. It’s never too late
to do the right thing, to be truly honorable.”

Angry and confused,
Clint stood and watched the elderly woman begin to walk away. After taking several
steps she turned and asked, “When you come to my house, tell me how bears
survive in the big city. Tell me about the Chicago Bears.”

Wrinkling his brow,
Clint shook his head in disbelief. The Chicago Bears? How could his grandmother
have seen Cassie’s night shirt?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Labor Day in
Chicago ushered in a crisp cold front. Fall was definitely in the air. Race
fans came to Arlington Park in large numbers. Because of the holiday, five of
the nine races on the card would be stakes races. Some of finest horses in the
mid-west would be featured. A few had shipped in from California and New York. The
crowd was jubilant, filled with anticipation.

Cassie wished she
could be so carefree. The big day had finally arrived. There wasn’t anything
else she could think to do. Standing back in Hope’s stall to admire the filly
once again, she smiled grimly. “We’ve come a long ways girl, through thick and
thin. Now it’s all up to you.” The horse whinnied in response with a gleam in
her eye, as if she knew the importance of the day.

Time dragged by
slowly. Cassie’s Hope would race in the seventh race, a feature race for
fillies at one mile. The specter of Cassie’s mother and Louie still hung over
this race.

Pulling herself
together, Cassie reminded herself to think positively.
Don’t give off the
wrong vibes to the horse. Give her all the support she needs.
Cassie
chuckled. Some of that advice was good social work, some had come from her
father, and some came from the lips of Clint Travers. Damn, another train of
thought she wanted to abort immediately.

Mercifully, horses
for the seventh race were called to the paddock for check-in and saddling. To
Cassie’s relief, Hope pranced to the paddock, seemingly ready to carry the O’Hanlon
colors to victory. She found her own spirits picking up with those of the
horse.

The saddling went
without complication. As she helped Jessica Wilder into the saddle, Cassie
reminded her, “We don’t really know what her best running style is because of
the drugs. Just let her run her own race. If she wants to run up front, okay. Off
the pace likely would be better. Just don’t let her drop too far back. There’s
a lot of speed in this race.”

Cassie watched the
jockey guide the horse from the floral garden paddock area to the pathway
leading under the stands to the track. Trying to hold onto her scrambling
nerves, Cassie flung the lead rope over her shoulder and made her way to the
box seats where she knew she’d find her father with Ashton, Susan and Traci. She
was so thrilled his doctor had finally relented and let her dad come. He was no
doubt entertaining her female friends with the guile and wit of a true
horseman. It was race day, and Tug O’Hanlon was never better than on race day.

“Here she comes
now,” Tug said, spying his daughter threading her way through the crowd. “Hope
looks good,” he offered as she entered the box.

“She’s as ready as
she’ll ever be. Hi, guys,” Cassie sputtered anxiously, “glad you could make it.”
Gesturing toward her father, she added, “Has he given you any trouble?”

“Not at all.” Traci
smiled broadly, pushing dark hair away from her face. “He seems to enjoy having
three nurses taking care of his every need.”

“I’ll bet he does.”

Cassie settled
uneasily into a chair while focusing binoculars on the backstretch where Hope
and the other horses continued to warm up for the race. This was the horse who
ran in Wyoming. She pranced up on her toes, alert, and had that rocking gait
which was a sure sign of readiness.

Ten horses and
riders entered the starting gate right in front of the stands. Cassie’s heart
was in her throat. Her dad breathed deeply trying to relax. Her friends,
catching the tension of the moment, fell silent. Hope looked so beautiful, so
much like the race horse she was bred to be.

The start was
clean. Going around the first turn, Jessica Wilder allowed Hope to run easily
without encouragement. The filly fell in behind the leaders, running in fourth.
She maintained that position throughout much of the backstretch. As they neared
the far turn, two horses moved up on the outside of Hope.

Cassie froze. This
was the first real test. Would the filly crumple under the pressure, or would
she dig in? Without hesitation, Hope matched the pace of the horse trying to
pass her. Two of the lead horses ran out of gas and were dropping back. Expertly,
Jessica maneuvered her mount slightly to avoid being boxed in.

As they rounded the
turn at the top of the homestretch, Hope inched up alongside the leader, along
with the horse on her outside. It was clear to Cassie that unless something
went dreadfully wrong, it was now a three horse race. At the sixteenth pole,
the horse that had been leading all the way faltered, leaving Hope and the
outside horse dueling toward the finish line.

 It was the kind of
tight finish that fans adored and that gave owners and trainers acid stomachs. Stride
for stride, the two horses made their way down the home stretch. The horse on
the outside bobbled slightly, as if gasping for air. For a moment, Cassie felt
like she could see into the heart of her horse as Hope charged forward, like a
champion, with powerful, unrelenting strides. She crossed the finish line a half
length ahead of her closest competitor.

With tears flowing,
Cassie hugged her father, who also freely shed his own tears. “She did it, Dad!
You did it. The big horse.”

“You did it, child,”
sobbed her father. “You did it, with your perseverance and skill. And with a
touch of Irish Luck,” he added, grinning sheepishly.

Ignoring the photo
finish sign, everybody knew who had won. Cassie dashed toward the track to
greet her horse and lead her into the winner’s circle. The girls would bring
her father.

As she attached the
lead rope to Hope’s bridle, she ran her hand over the filly’s sweaty heated
flesh and knew in that instant that she’d never experienced a more precious
moment in her life.

Jessica Wilder
brought her back to the present. “She ran a great race, Cass. You’ve got a real
race horse here.”

“Thanks,” Cassie
replied, reaching up to grip the jock’s outstretched hand. “And thanks for
keeping her out of trouble out there.”

“Yeah.”

While Cassie held
the filly steady in the winner’s circle, track personnel presented the Land of
Lincoln Stakes trophy to her dad and placed a green and white blanket across
Hope’s withers. Pride overran Cassie’s heart as she watched her father’s broad
smile. How long had he waited for that moment?

As Cassie began to
lead Hope out of the winner’s circle, Ashton pulled on her sleeve. “Is it okay
if I tag along? I’ve got the barn pass you arranged for,” she said, showing her
the laminated badge.

Cassie smiled
ruefully. “Sure, come along. Traci and Susan can take Dad back. It’ll be awhile,
though. First we have to take Hope to the test barn, and then cool her out
before taking her home. It might be a couple hours or more.”

“That’s okay with
me. Don’t have anything better to do. Boy, what a day for you, Cass. What a
day!”

“Yeah, it’s
outstanding all right,” Cassie said, leading the horse toward the test barn. “Now
if Hope can cooperate and give them a urine specimen quickly, this won’t take
too long. Sometimes horses are so keyed up, it takes awhile. But this is part
of what keeps racing clean…testing winners for drugs. Usually, they also test
another horse or two in each race randomly. Hope was never randomly chosen
before, or maybe we would’ve known about Louie and my mother earlier.”

Shaking her head,
Cassie muttered, “But I don’t want to dwell on them now. Damn, didn’t she run a
great race!”

Ashton smiled in
response. “Yeah, she did. But truthfully, the only way I know is that she won. And
I did well at the betting window.” Rattling the several gold bracelets
decorating her left arm, the woman hooted, “I may have to go back to the
jewelry store on Monday. Boy, I’ve never seen your dad so excited. He’s sure
proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Cassie nodded,
tearing up.

Once the filly was
loaded for the trip home, Cassie took one last look around the stable area and
the track. This was a life she’d been around for so long. She’d rejected it
once—now it was coursing through her body like the lifeblood it had become. At
times like this it was difficult to recall her other life, her job, her
delinquents.

Was Raul right? Had
the four legged beasts lured her away? His words echoed in her memory:
You’ll
use your social work skills wherever you are.

Cassie stifled a
sob. Why couldn’t that obstinate cowboy be here today? How the kids would have
loved the race and standing in the winner’s circle at Arlington Park. She shook
her head sadly. That was the past. She started up the engine.

There was a loud
banging against the side of the trailer. Glancing in her mirror, Cassie
scowled. Ed Harrington was trying to get her attention before she pulled out. She
knew she should just put the pedal to the floor and go home. But she didn’t.

She looked out the
open window and there he stood with his hat off, looking uncharacteristically
contrite.

“Can I speak with
you for a minute, Cass? It’s important.” He nodded toward Ashton and said, “Sorry
to interrupt.”

Cassie hesitated
and then smiled. Nothing could ruin this glorious day. Not even Harrington. “Sure,”
she said, “what’s on your mind?”

“Can we talk in
private,” the man whispered through nearly closed lips.

“Oh, okay.” She
shut off the engine, opened the door, got out of the cab and walked to the rear
of the trailer, all the time wondering what kind of problem the blond trainer
was going to lay on her this time.

“Okay, spit it out,
Harrington. I don’t have all day.” She knew she was being rude, but she was
more than a little irritated by his melodramatic intrigue.

Harrington furrowed
his brow and sighed. “I just wanted to congratulate you on a real fine win,
Cassie. You did a great job with Hope and it paid off big time.”

“Oh, well thank
you, Ed,” she replied flustered by his praise. “I am pleased to hear you say
that. You’re right, this is certainly one of the happiest days of my life.”

“I also wanted you
to know that I’m sorry I’ve been ragging on you so much.” He winced as if in
great pain. “I can’t quite explain it. I know I’m no great shakes of a man, but
I’m usually not such an ass, either.”

Cassie felt her
cheeks redden. The man was genuinely sorry. She could tell that. But now what
was she supposed to do? She certainly didn’t not want to lead him on.

Playing it straight
was best. Crossing her arms, she said, “Your apology is accepted, Ed. I’ve
always respected you as a trainer, or I wouldn’t have worked with you as
closely as I have these last several months. You’re damn good at what you do.”

“Thanks.”

“But don’t go to
thinking that there’s anything now or ever will be anything personal between
us. It’s just not going to happen.”

Ed surprised her by
smiling easily. “Don’t worry, Cass. I’m clear on that point. But I would like
to continue our professional relationship, with fewer sparks.”

“That sounds fine
with me,” Cassie concurred. “Well, I’d best be going home.”

“There is one more
thing.”

“What’s that?”

Shifting his weight
uncomfortably, Ed stammered, “I’m sorry if I caused you trouble with your Utah
rancher.”

Cassie’s eyes
sprang wide.

“But I really was
afraid he was behind all your difficulties with the horse. It seemed quite
logical to me. I wasn’t just trying to cause problems. And I was shocked to
hear that it had been old Louie all along.”

Giving him a half
smile, Cassie said, “Yes, that was a shock for Dad too. And I’m sure it did
seem reasonable to you that Clint might be behind it all.” She wiped the back
of her hand across her brow. “Whatever happened between me and Travers isn’t
your fault. It was bound to happen. It’s just the kind of people we are. Now, I
really must be going. There’s going to be some serious celebrating tonight. I
probably won’t see you for a day or two.”

“Thanks for
listening. Thanks for understanding,” Harrington mumbled. He turned to head
back toward shedrow. “Congratulations again, and good luck.”

“Yeah.”

Stepping back into
the cab, Cassie was pleased he’d stopped her. They did need to clear the air,
and now that was done. Another event to celebrate on this day of celebrations.

“You hear any of
that?” she asked.

“If the man wants
to have a quiet conversation with a lady, he ought to get a softer voice,”
Ashton chuckled. “Seems like he had his tail between his legs.”

“Harrington is an
odd sort of man. Basically, I think he’s a decent fellow with an oversized ego.
But he is a damn good trainer.”

“I bet that gravelly
voice attracts women, too.”

“So I’ve heard,”
Cassie said, pulling the trailer out into traffic.

As Cassie
maneuvered through streets making her way toward the interstate, the chatter
between the two of them stopped. Once they pulled on the main highway, Ashton
asked, “What are you going to do about him, Cass?”