Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (14 page)

“See you later
then,” Cassie said, scowling at his retreating back.

Turning to Clint,
she asked, “Where’s your trailer parked?”

 Slamming the rear
door of the trailer shut, she grunted, “That ought to do it. I’ll have Hope in
her own stall shortly. You’ve got the directions for finding the farm tomorrow.”

“Got ‘em in my
pocket.”

Cassie removed her
work gloves. She was not at all pleased with the look he was giving her. It was
a questioning look, almost accusing. “All right, Travers, what’s going on in
that deceptive mind of yours now?”

His stare softened.
“Oh, I was just thinking of the competition. I didn’t know you had a man
stashed away here in Chicago interested in your favors.”

“What? Oh. You mean
Harrington.” Men, they could make a competition over nothing. “Nope. Only in
his dreams and in my worst nightmares.”

“You,” Clint
replied coolly, “can be very decisive at times.”

Was he mocking her?
She held her tongue.

“Some decisions are
easier than others,” he added, “I suppose.”

“What are you
trying to say, Travers?” Cassie demanded. His dark eyes filled with an
intensity she didn’t want to define. Her heart stopped beating. Well-conditioned
muscles seemed incapable of holding her up. Leaning against the pickup, she
breathed rapidly.

“I want to be
honest with you, Cassidy.” Clint paused, clearly studying her panic reactions.

“Yes,” she
whispered. Her emotions were raw, susceptible to every nuance, spoken or
unspoken.

“I’m not here just
to race horses.” He pushed his Stetson up off his forehead.

“No,” she mumbled, “I
didn’t suppose you were.”

Folding his arms across
his chest, he declared, “I’ve come for something you took with you.”

“What? I don’t
understand.” Although wary, she watched him carefully.

“I’ve come for my
heart.”

His coal black eyes
filled with an indecipherable, haunting gleam. His words echoed in her brain. Cassie
closed the distance between them with three halting steps. She moved into the
warmth of his arms. He held her snug against his body. His strong arms felt
good. She tried not to cry, but failed. Damn, she couldn’t remember ever crying
so much as she had of late.

Clint said no more.
He waited.

The summer fling
was definitely over, Cassie concluded. Could she open herself to the potential
agony of another intimate relationship?

For an instant, she
held their shared future in her grasp. He’d taken a huge step by showing up on
her turf. Now it was her turn. Her mind whirled. She didn’t want to go
backward. Staying in place, in his arms, although desirable, was not an option.

She pushed herself
away from him at last. “Clint, I am glad you’re here, but let’s go slowly. I’m
not sure of myself. I need time to sort things out.” She saw him go rigid. Fear
clutched at her heart.

She ran her fingers
through her unruly hair trying to find the right words. Would he reject her
because she wasn’t as ready as he was? “Can you give me some time, Clint? I
know the road you want to walk. I’m just not sure I can go down that road. It
can be such a painful journey.”

Clint’s neck
muscles relaxed a trifle. “I understand. But it can also be the most joyful journey
any two people can share. Take however long you need—just don’t shut me out,
because I’m not leaving you alone until I know where we stand.”

“I wouldn’t want
you to,” she said. Smiling at last, surprised by her own courage, Cassie
continued, “Maybe we can take tiny baby steps. But not too many, and not too
fast. Why don’t you come by and pick up the trailer tomorrow, and then we’ll
take it from there.”

Glancing shyly away
from him, she said faintly, “I’d like you to meet my dad. I expect the two of you
will find more than a few things in common to talk about.”

- o -

Later that evening,
Clint stretched out on the hotel bed weighing next moves. He didn’t want to
rush her. If she chose to be with him, then it would be for keeps. He wouldn’t
settle for an affair. She was a woman who could challenge him, who could love
him deeply—who could be the mother of his children. He’d come to Chicago to
pursue her, but he didn’t want to scare her away. Obviously, she carried wounds
of some kind—would she ever tell him about them?

He would bide his
time. Waiting had finite boundaries--he just didn’t know what they were yet.
Probably things wouldn’t be resolved before he had to return to Utah by the
middle of the next week. Serious exploration of their future might be
impossible until whoever was drugging Cassie’s Hope was caught. He vowed to get
to the bottom of that mystery as soon as possible.

CHAPTER SEVEN

While bathing a
filly beside the barn, Cassie spied the familiar blue pickup wending its way
down the long farm driveway. She inhaled the fresh morning air trying to
maintain her balance. Could she really love this near stranger? Could they have
a life together spread half way across the country? Could she be an instant
mother?

Cassie shivered.
That
was where the rubber hit the road. She wasn’t ready to think about it. Plus, there
would be cultural differences. His Ute heritage. They hadn’t talked much about
it, but she’d seen some of it firsthand. His family was in some ways foreign, a
little scary, yet very welcoming.

What about her
father? She and Clint both had family with lots of needs. Responsibilities. They
weren’t teenagers trying to escape into an adult world. Perhaps they were
adults envious of a carefree life—but that was no longer a possibility. Cassie
shook her head, bracing herself for the roller coaster of emotions she
experienced whenever Clint Travers approached.

- o -

Stepping out of his
truck, Clint swept the horizon with his gaze. He liked what he saw. The farm
exuded comfort.

The old farmhouse
could use some fresh paint on its green trim and white clapboards, but
otherwise it was nicely maintained. Red, white, and yellow roses climbed
trellises on the near side of the house. The screen porch looked well used
rather than merely being a walk through or decorative space.

The yard had been
recently mowed. He looked with appreciation at the two large chestnut trees in
the front yard. It had been a while since he’d seen trees so full of foliage. Oaks
and maples framed the far side of the yard. He wondered who handled all of the
leaves in the fall.

His eyes moved
toward the outbuildings. He chuckled. There was no question where the
priorities were on this farm. The barn was in much better repair than the
house. The barn appeared to be an old dairy barn remodeled for horses. Several
horses of varying ages grazed in paddocks.

Whoever had converted
the place into a working horse farm had done so with foresight and pride. A
small half-mile dirt oval served as an exercise track. Not bad. Not bad at all.

At last his eyes
settled on the woman with flaming hair bathing a young filly on a concrete slab
at the side of the barn. With hose in one hand and a scrub brush in the other,
Cassie looked as fetching as ever.

As he neared, he
could see the pale blue blouse had been splashed by flying water in the most
provocative places. He was immediately envious of her jeans molded against
silky feminine skin. Standing in oversized rubber boots that appeared to be
waders on her, Cassie looked like a misplaced waif. A waif he was more than
willing to rescue from whatever terrible fate threatened her.

 “Good morning,
Cassidy,” Clint said, with a hint of a smile. He chuckled nervously. “Once
again I’m not sure if I’m supposed to shake your hand, hug you, or kiss you.”

“Well, if you’ve
come a courtin’,” Cassie cooed impishly, directing the water hose away from
them and rising on her toes to brush his lips, “I guess a discrete kiss is
acceptable.”

Clint used every
muscle in his body to refrain from grabbing her and kissing her like he wanted
to, like he hoped she wanted him to. “This isn’t going to be easy,” he grunted.

“No. It won’t be
easy,” she snickered, squeezing his hand. “You caught me at an awkward moment. I’m
just about done. I have to rinse this girl off and turn her out.”

“No problem. I’d
like to wander around, if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead. We don’t
have any traps or land mines around.”

He squinted,
admiring the land mine standing before him. Without further comment he stepped
into the barn. Again he was impressed with the workmanship that had gone into converting
the building into a very functional space for horses. Stalls were solid and of
adequate size. A separate area for feed and another for tack. In the tack room,
surrounded by bridles, ropes, saddles, bits, and hackamores was a small desk
with papers layered in every which direction. He smiled. The social worker
horsewoman was not quite as organized as he’d expected.

A fairly new
stairway led upstairs. He expected it was the way to the loft apartment that Cassie
had told him about. Apparently, it had been used for a hired hand in the past. Now
it served as her quarters.

When he walked back
out into the sunlight, Cassie was leading the freshly bathed filly into a
nearby paddock.

“You have a real
nice set up here,” he commented, leaning against the paddock fence. “This is
obviously a place where people care about the well being of horses.”

“Thanks.” Cassie
glanced in his direction and grinned. “It’s certainly not nearly as large as a
ranch, but it’s big enough for us to raise some decent horses.”

Clint heard the
pride in her voice and smiled. Did she have any idea how happy she looked—or how
happy she made him feel?

After giving the
filly a pat on the rump, Cassie ventured, “Okay, I’ll rinse out my bucket and
then we’ll go and see Dad. He’s sitting on the porch, probably getting a kick
out of spying on us. He always has set of binoculars close by so he can check
out the horses in the various paddocks.”

“That’s handy.”

“So…you’re the
fellow who’s taken a fancy to my daughter. You don’t look very damn Irish to
me,” chided the older man with more than a trace of humor.

“Yes and no to your
questions,” Clint said, suppressing a smile and glancing toward the kitchen
doorway, where Cassie had scooted off for coffee after making the introductions.
“I’m very taken with your daughter. And while I expect I have at least a speck
of Irish blood in me, it’s not very noticeable.”

“Well,” Tug said,
thoughtfully studying Clint, “a speck will do, if you don’t hurt her.”

Clint took his time
responding. Finally, looking directly at Cassie’s father, he said, “I will do
everything in my power not to hurt her, sir. You can count on that.”

The older man didn’t
say a word. Clint wished he could read the fellow’s mind.

“You better not,”
Tug countered at last. “I wouldn’t want to have to hurt another horseman. At
least I can see now why my daughter is in such a tizzy these days.”

Clint cleared his
throat. Was that an off-handed vote of confidence?

“Understand you
think Hope’s been drugged.”

Welcoming the change
in topic, Clint responded smoothly, “Yeah. I doubt it’s the first time, either.”

“That would explain
a lot of things that don’t add up, wouldn’t it? Cassie’s really had the horse
trained right up on her toes till the actual race, and then everything falls
apart.” The older man ran his hand up and down the worn arm of the rocker. “I’m
slippin’, I guess. Should’ve expected it myself. Not as sharp as I used to be. Sure
would like to catch the bastard who’s doing it.”

“We’ll work on it.”

“
We’ll
work
on it?” Cassie asked, carrying a tray of coffee and cookies out to the porch. “How
long do you expect to be here? Thought you had responsibilities.”

 “I do,” Clint
acknowledged, accepting a cup filled with steaming coffee and two chocolate chip
cookies. “I’ll be here a week or so to see my horses settled in at the track.” He
shrugged, knowing there was no real need for him to stay that long just due to
the horses he was leaving in her care. “Then I’ll head back and make sure the
two year olds we’re taking to the Keeneland sales are ready. And I try not to
be away from the kids for more than a week or two at a time.”

“You sure were
confident I wouldn’t say no to training your horses for you while they’re at
Arlington.”

“If you’d turned me
down, I would’ve settled on another trainer. But happily, I don’t have to do
that. And you’ll keep me informed of their progress.”

“Then,” she asked
with a catch in her throat, “you won’t be here for Hope’s next race?”

“No, afraid not.” The
disappointment on Cassie’s face tugged at Clint. He frowned, wishing he could
stay, but knowing he couldn’t. “I’ll help you work out a plan to protect Hope. But
I can’t be here to help put it in place. Is there anyone else you totally
trust?”

“Absolutely not,”
interrupted Cassie’s father bitterly. “Somebody at the track is doing this. Could
be anybody. Could be a stranger or a friend. Can’t trust no one. It’s just you
and me, girl.”

- o -

Cassie watched the
sparkle in her father’s eye. He was being revived by this mystery. He felt
needed. But what could he do, nearly welded to his rocker?

In spite of her
father’s bravado, his words made her feel even more alone. Steeling herself,
she resolved that Travers would not witness her fear.

She turned to the
ever observant Clint Travers and chuckled at his furrowed brow. “We can handle
it. Shouldn’t be too much to it. I don’t know how we can trap the culprit, but
we can certainly keep Hope safe until the day of the race. She trains just as
well here as there. I won’t leave her out of my sight once we get to the track.

“Yeah, that ought
to work,” Clint said. “I’d suggest you might think about hiring some security
for your shedrow barn a couple days ahead of race time. It may not be
necessary. She’s being drugged the day of the race. That seems quite certain. But
if anyone thinks we’re onto them, their strategy could change.”

Before Cassie could
object, Tug agreed. “Sounds like a good idea. I know a guy I can probably trust
to do that much. He won’t have to know about our suspicions to do his job. But
it does seem like a lot of trouble for someone to go through—drugging a horse
that has yet to prove she can really do much of anything.”

“I’ve been
wondering and worrying about that,” Clint said, nodding thoughtfully. “Seems
likely there’s more to this than the horse. Either one of you have enemies?”

Father and daughter
answered in unison, “No.”

“You don’t think it’s
personal…?” Cassie asked, not liking the slight tremble in her voice.

“Could be,” Clint
hesitated. “Don’t mean to alarm you. You do work with delinquents. How many of
them have you alienated? How far might they go to settle a grudge?”

“Damn,” she
whispered. “That never occurred to me. But they wouldn’t have access. You have
to have a license to be in the paddock area.”

Clint shook his
head. “Come on. Access can be bought. Or people with access can be bought.”

“You really have a
suspicious mind, Travers,” she said, sipping her cooling coffee. Her mind raced
through all of her acquaintances at the track and at her work. She hated to
walk through life being distrustful of everyone, but it seemed as if she had
little choice.

“Well, I come by my
wariness from experience.” He shrugged, not offering any additional details. “Most
often things aren’t as simple as they appear. How about you, Tug? You can’t
have been around horse tracks for so many years without stepping on some toes
here and there.”

Tug’s breathing was
ragged. A cough sapped an attempt at laughter. Pausing at last, he scoffed
curtly, “You’re probably right. But that list would be so long it couldn’t help
at all. Still, I can’t imagine anyone being so worked up that they would stoop
to drugging a horse. And I’m not even training the filly.”

“Just keep the
question in mind, both of you. It just doesn’t feel right that this is only about
one horse,” Clint reasoned.

Cassie nodded
warily, wondering once again how much Clint was not saying.

“I’ve been to
Chicago several times,” Clint said, squeezing Cassie’s as they walked along the
lakefront, “but don’t think I’ve ever seen Lake Michigan this calm.”

“Seldom do we see it
this peaceful,” Cassie said. “I like it when it’s like glass, and I also love
it when it pounds waves across Lake Shore Drive. She has many personalities. And
you never know which one she’ll express on any given day.”

“Sounds like a
woman,” Clint bantered lightly.

“Right,” Cassie
said, pulling them to a halt. “Any woman I know?”

“You might. I do
like to watch the sailboats. At a distance they seem like toys and then as they
approach the harbor they take on real life form and you can see the folks
trying to maneuver just so.”

“Uh huh, and I
think you just maneuvered out of a tight spot quite nicely, Mr. Travers.”

Breathing in the
moist lake air, Clint wondered if he’d ever be able to understand this woman at
his side. He liked the warmth of her fingers interlaced with his. Her strength
was evident. Yet her vulnerability was only a moment away. She seemed so sure
and confident of so many things—but not about the two of them. Clearly she
would try his patience. He had a deep reservoir of patience. He hoped it would
be enough.