Casey's Courage (3 page)

She pulled a briefcase out of the pickup, took out a catalog and brochure, then turned around to greet the dusty, tired-looking photographer.

Tres unsaddled and loaded their horses then caught the mare Casey had ridden during the morning and put her into the last stall of the trailer.

As he fastened the tailgate, he heard Casey say, “The sale will be held at the old headquarters where the stable and training pens are located. If you want pictures of the breeding barn and the other state-of-the-art facilities, you will need to come a day or two early. Things will be rushing the day of the sale.”

Tres propped one shoulder against the side of the trailer and waited.

The photographer looked up from his notebook he’d been scribbling on. “Can we do some filming at the Mansion?” His high-pitched voice grated on Tres’ nerves.

Casey’s tone changed. “Spencer Mansion is Mr. and Mrs. Spencer’s home. You will need to talk to them about taking pictures there. Give me a call if you need more information about the sale.”

Tres heard the clipped, businesslike undercurrent of her voice and wasn’t surprised to see the photographer give his thanks and take his leave.

After Casey pulled out onto the caliche road, Tres asked, “How’s your mother?”

“She has to depend on her motorized wheelchair to get around most of the time. The Lyme Disease and arthritis have caused some deformity. Her strength isn’t what it used to be, but she manages.”

“Does she have someone to help her?”

Casey smiled. “Oh, yes, Maria came to live-in when I went to A&M. Dad declared he just couldn’t manage without me, so I drove back and forth to college in town my freshman year. He really wanted me to continue going there and be on the rodeo team so he could coach me and be a part of the excitement of competing again. The Running S horses and I had won lots of shows during my high school years. We did even better that freshman year in the hometown college, so J.D. wanted to pay my expenses to go to A&M way off down the country. He and Dad negotiated for weeks. Out of those negotiations, Mother got her new chair and Maria, who’s now her dearest friend.”

“I’m surprised Jake let you go so far away.”

“A lot of hemming and hawing took place. What it all boiled down to was Dad’s unwillingness to turn me loose. He’d controlled almost every aspect of my life as far back as I could remember. At a university several hundred miles away, I’d be out of his reach.

“It took a while, but he and J.D. finally agreed I’d live at a retired Professor’s estate, not far from the university. The professor and J.D. had been college buddies. An old cowboy named Daniel, who still manages Professor Buford’s stables, traveled with me every place I went with the horses. He’s good with horses and never reluctant to give advice. So under the watchful eyes of Professor Buford, his wife, and Daniel, the Running S horses and I made our way through college. I pretty much continued doing the same things I did when you used to show up in the summer—riding horses and going to school. I just got older, hopefully a little wiser, not too much worse for the wear.”

Tres looked over at her. “Any boyfriends along the way?”

Casey laughed at the hint of the Tres-from-their-youth. His nosy question with a note of concern in his voice took her back to those years. “I never seemed to find the time for the boy-girl thing. Besides, after all the advice you gave me the summer I was thirteen, I never found anybody to measure up. My life’s pretty much been the same old same old. But what about you? Why did you go, and why did you come back from Australia?”

After a hesitation and a sideways glance at Casey, he grinned with mischief in his eyes. “You remember Melanie? I brought her out for a short visit the summer before I went to Australia.”

“You mean the blonde in the pink shorts and halter top who hated the heat, the dirt, and just had to get back to the house to get ready for the party? I vaguely remember. What about her?”

Tres’ deep laugh echoed in the cab of the pickup. “Vaguely, my hind leg. You were jealous!”

Casey laughed along with him. “Of course, I was jealous. You’d been my companion, friend, mentor, and sidekick. Then you showed up with her in tow and didn’t have time for a gangly, freckled-faced kid anymore. You bet I was jealous. You broke my heart.”

The teasing note in her voice contradicted the school years when she had seen herself as the rejected love in every piece of literature she read. In reality, she could still feel the unhealed fissure in her heart. She guarded that secret well.

“Somehow I can’t see anything about you suggesting a broken heart. I see a beautiful woman and, from what I’m told, an accomplished one.”

She grinned at him. “I survived. I’m from Spartan stock.”

“Yeah, I remember the first time I saw you. You looked like a ghost, you hurt so bad, but you pretty much told me to mind my own business when I asked if you were sick.”

Casey’s face heated just thinking about that awkward time. “I was embarrassed. You came up on me at a bad time.”

“I know. That’s why I invented the story about needing to go to the stables at your house to get another saddle at noon, and asking you to come and help me locate the gear. You came back from to the house where you said you went to check on your mother, looking a lot more comfortable with your situation.”

“I believe I still owe you a belated ‘thank you’ for that.”

Their conversation stopped cold as they rounded the curve in the road. A medical helicopter sat in front of the magnificent ranch home built by Tres’ Scottish great-great-grandfather. Casey knew in her heart what had happened. Neither she nor Tres said a word. The foreboding she’d felt all day changed to sadness, then settled like a rock in her heart.

Chapter 2

J.D. Spencer, the gruff man who had influenced Casey’s life immeasurably, had died. As per his request, she rode the black, shining Raven to the top of the knoll overlooking the ranch cemetery at the exact time for the funeral service. Her black silk pants, jacket, boots and hat matched her mount.

After speaking to the horse softly, Casey raised the silver trumpet to her lips, praying the lump in her throat would not cause her to falter. The notes of “Amazing Grace” floated out across the huge crowd then drifted over the gentle slopes covered in Grama grass.

As the music died away, Reverend Doyle’s voice rang out as he began the service. “J.D. left instructions saying I had only fifteen minutes to say what needs to be said. I don’t think he wants us cluttering up his peaceful resting place for too long, so . . .”

Casey and Raven remained still for those few minutes. At the last “amen”, she blew the first note of “Taps.” She knew J.D. had been in the military long before she was even born and had heard him speak of those years like they had been an important time in his life. As the last note died, she whispered, “Rest in peace.” Turning her horse, she rode off the knoll without looking back.

She had fulfilled her promise to the man who had given her the opportunity to earn a college education, and she felt sure he had loved her in his own stern way.

She handed Raven over to a groom but lingered at the stables for as long as she dared, before going to the house. The stately old Mansion teemed with people, who had come from far and wide to honor a man important to them in one way or the other. When she finally entered the ballroom that had been opened to accommodate the crowd, she saw Mattie Lou sitting in a satin wingback chair with Tres standing beside her as people came in a steady stream to offer their condolences. Casey saw Tres’ eyes, burning dark blue with grief, his face set like chiseled stone. She nodded to him from a distance. Her grief, too near the surface to manage words of sympathy without a flood of tears, kept her from going to them for now.

Servers moved among the crowd with trays loaded with drinks. The food on buffet tables did not entice Casey. She drank water as she passed through the crowd using social graces learned at all those functions Professor and Mrs. Buford had dragged her to during her college years.

Her mother, Dad, and Maria sat with a group of ranch people, not talking much but helping each other through mourning the loss of the dynamic ‘Big Boss’ they had all respected. She sat with them for a time, but slipped away after a while. The stream of people seeking to speak to Mattie Lou and Tres had dwindled to a trickle. Tres now sat on a sofa near his grandmother.

Casey, having dissembled her emotions enough to hold back tears, made her way to them. What could she say to comfort, much less impart, the deep, aching sympathy she felt?

As she approached, Tres stood. “Come sit for a little.” He caught her hand, directing her to the end of the sofa closest to Mattie Lou. He sat down close beside her.

Casey felt his warmth. The unique tingle of pleasure she always felt when she was near him zinged through her, kicking up her heart rate.

Before she said a word, Mattie Lou leaned over and patted Casey’s leg. “Dear, dear, Casey. J.D. would have crowed about the perfection of his plan for you and Raven to announce his departing this world with a trumpet. I cried like a big baby. I just knew in my heart that his spirit was there saying, ‘That’s my girl. She knows how to do things up right.’ As you well know, he always did like things done his way.”

Casey covered Mattie Lou’s hand with her own. “He was special. He expected a lot, but gave even more. His high expectations and unstinting support are indelible influences in my life.”

Mattie Lou smiled though her eyes shone bright with tears. “I used to scold him about calling Samuel Buford every whip stitch. He did so want to manage your life even from a distance. He and Samuel talked like co-conspirators on a secret mission, especially the first couple of years you were at A&M.” She leaned back with a sigh and rested her head on the chair back. Fatigue etched her face. “I’ll miss his huge presence. But I can’t begrudge him his release from pain and the prison of his body that refused to do what he wanted it to do.”

Tres scooted closer to Casey, putting his arm on the sofa back. She felt him brush against her. How like heaven it would be to lean into him and rest her head on his shoulder. He leaned slightly over her to talk to Mattie Lou. “If you want to go rest, it is certainly okay. We can see to things here.”

His grandmother raised her head with a little smile teasing her lips. “Tres Spencer, you know I’m made of sterner stuff than that. I’m fine. With you two here for support . . .” She hushed as the very people they’d been talking about approached.

“Professor Buford, Evelyn, how good to see you. Come sit.” Mattie Lou indicated a sofa opposite Tres and Casey.

Casey started to get up to leave but Tres pressed his hand to her shoulder. His quiet “Better stay” halted her escape.

Evelyn settled her elegant self on the sofa. The professor plopped down beside her with a grunt. “J.D. would appreciate his send-off. Looks like everybody and his dog came.” He paid no heed to his pretty wife’s gasp and her whisper, “Samuel Buford.”

Mattie Lou smiled at Evelyn. “They never change, do they? What pops into their mind just comes out in plain words. But he’s right. J.D. would be pleased, probably is pleased. It seems like his spirit has been around close all day.” Not hesitating, she said, “This is our grandson Tres and, of course, you know Casey.”

Tres stood and extended his hand to the professor and acknowledged Evelyn with a smile. “It’s good to meet you. Mattie Lou just mentioned you a few minutes ago.”

Prof. Buford grinned as he released Tres’ hand. “I bet she was holding forth on how J.D. and I tried to push Casey around. We tried, but damned if she didn’t end up with a PhD in Psychology, of all things.”

Tres settled back with his arm back around Casey’s shoulders. “I’m a little behind on Casey, but I’m guessing she still has that ‘bend but not break’ streak I saw in her when she was just a kid.”

Prof. Buford gave them his classroom look. “So you two have known each other a long time?”

Tres could almost swear he felt Casey squirm. “We have. We were horse-training buddies all one summer. Jake had us working with green-broke two-year-olds.” He hugged Casey just a faction more and smiled down at her. “We worked in a few impromptu swims on hot days, had a few horse races Jake would have skinned us for. We even discussed pretty much everything a ‘cocky’ college kid thought he knew everything about. Best summer of my life.”

The professor braced his elbows on his knees and looked at Casey. “You never mentioned that summer. Why not?”

Knowing Prof. Buford was baiting her, she ignored the ‘worm,’ so to speak, and matched his casual banter. “Good grief, I was just thirteen years old and spent a lot of energy trying not to do something dumb in front of a grown-up college guy.” She gave Tres a conspiratorial grin before adding, “That is, until I found out he could do some pretty dumb things himself. Those impromptu things he mentioned were usually done on a dare. Even back then, a challenge brought out my ‘mule-headed determination,’ as Daniel calls it.”

Mattie and Evelyn watched and listened, neither of them missing a beat or the heat vibes emitting from the two young people who sat so close together. A few people started coming to bid Mattie Lou goodbye, always with a “Let us know if we can help in any way.” The Bufords left with some acquaintance.

Casey was well aware of Jake’s disproving stare, his clenched jaw and thin lips, but sitting by Tres felt so right, so good.
One must store up treasures when one can.

Tres’ grief ebbed the minute he settled beside Casey. Her aura of serenity enveloped him. Keeping her close centered him and made him feel he could handled the coming days, weeks, and months it would take to get acclimated to all he must do as J.D. Spencer’s heir.

When he started to get up, he brushed a kiss across Casey’s cheek. “Thanks for bringing peace to two weary souls.” He reach over and helped Mattie Lou rise. Now to pick up the reins of the Running S, keep the place prosperous, and a credit to his Spencer heritage.

Later that night, Casey unrolled the plan that she and her father had mapped out for the location of everything needed in the upcoming horse sale—the sale ring, bleachers, caterer’s tent, parking, port-a-potties, emergency vehicles with clear access routes, etc. Immersing herself in work helped ease the grief, but the tears came as the night wore on. She and Jake would see that J.D.’s dream of a world-class horse sale was done up in high style at the Running S, even though he would not get to be a part of it.