Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (11 page)

What the hell was
he going to do about it? And did she have even a glimmer of an idea what was
possible for them? Probably not. She’d been so determined to define them from
the beginning as a fling.

He’d had flings
before, and this wasn’t feeling like one of those. This woman was different. He
liked the way she laughed. He liked the way she embraced new experiences. He
liked the way she felt in his arms, like liquid fire. He even liked her saucy temper.
Cassidy O’Hanlon was something else, and Clint wasn’t sure he wanted to let her
come and go as easily as she’d planned. Yet, realistically, what more could he
expect from her than a fling?

Clint drained the
bottle, stretched out on the floor, pulled up a blanket, and fell into a fitful
sleep. Beside him Cassie slept peacefully with no awareness of the shadows
chasing her lover.

CHAPTER FIVE

Should she be
annoyed? They were driving out his driveway after breakfast and Cassie was
aware she’d never made it to his bedroom. She still had no idea what kind of
bed the man slept in. Of course, more importantly, she knew how he was in bed—damn
good.

She watched the
high desert go by out the passenger window. A row of green trees marked a
meandering stream in the midst of dry grass and soil. The green string reminded
her of an elongated oasis. For a short time, this arid land had been her oasis.
But soon, too soon, she’d have to head east with Hope. She’d miss this land and
the man it had come to represent.

He, too, had been
an oasis of sorts. His softness surprised and comforted while his
mysteriousness vexed and intrigued. The understated charm of the landscape and
its occupants threatened to unravel her emotions, forcing her to look beyond
the shadows. An unseen energy pulled on her, enticing her into its vortex.

Desperately, Cassie
shook her upper body. Her life was already complicated as all hell. She’d have
to work hard to retrieve her old life. Her dad had complicated things, and if
she wasn’t extremely careful, the man next to her could complicate things a
great deal more.

They were headed
into the small town of Roosevelt; Clint had to pick up some items from the feed
store before they headed back to Evanston.

“Much of this area
is reservation land,” he commented. “The Ute people have done better than some
Indian nations, probably not as well as others. Oil and natural gas have
helped. Problem is, maybe for five years there’s a real boom around here, and
then it goes bust and people didn’t plan ahead.

“Over there is a
relic of a building. Never been used. A lot of money spent on a convention
center, but no conventions. We might have done better to rely on the land more.
There are some decent ranches in the area. Beef and horses. But there just aren’t
enough jobs to go around.”

The countryside
blipped by. Pockets of wealth alongside pockets of poverty were readily
discernible. In that way, it wasn’t too unlike sections of Chicago that she
knew so well. There were many areas in the city where the wealthy and the poor
rubbed shoulders on a daily basis. But she didn’t comment. She wanted to listen
to Clint share more about his land that seemed so desolate and yet so
bountiful. She suspected that when he spoke of the land he was also talking of
himself.

“It’s a mysterious
place in some ways. I’ve been to a lot of places, but none that quite compare. The
air is clean. There’s more space than you’d ever know what to do with. The
people are fun loving, whether it’s a boom or a bust. They may cry, but they
generally find something to laugh about. Maybe it was something that happened
generations ago, but it still tickles the funny bone.

“It’s hard to
explain. There’s a spirit here that’s hard to find everywhere. Maybe it’s perspective.
My grandmother likes to say
You must take life seriously, but not too
seriously. Great Spirit didn’t create all of this beauty just for you to ignore
it.”

Cassie twisted in
her seat and smiled. “Your grandmother sounds like a very wise woman. I expect
she and my dad would have a lot in common. One of his favorite sayings is
you
got to stop and smell the flowers and the horses. A life without either is a
life unfulfilled.
I think I’d like your grandmother.”

Clint looked
sharply at her. She wondered why her response had surprised him; his expression
remained clouded and guarded.

Turning the truck
into a parking lot, he announced, “Here we are. Why don’t you come along? You’ll
see a feed store that hasn’t changed much in fifty years or more.”

He was right about
that. It was clearly more than a feed store, though. Ranchers could bring their
own grains in to be blended with others in the mill behind the main building. In
the store, pre-mixed feeds and seeds were available in forty and hundred pound
bags. One entire wall was lined with bridles, bits, halters, and saddles. Pitchforks
and shovels were available, as were ropes of all sizes. Cassie paused and inhaled
deeply the smells of leather and rope. She observed a cooler with cold drinks
and shelves of snacks and many grocery items. There was even a small section
toward the back of the store devoted to movie rentals.

Could the owner
possibly know where everything was? Some aisles were neatly stacked, while
others were haphazard, resembling a large grab bag. At the far end of the
store, near the cold drink display, were a half dozen card tables with four
chairs apiece. A few table legs rested on wood wedges.

Not one table was
empty at ten in the morning. At each table sat four people, mostly men, but
there were a few women. Cards flashed down quickly, matched by cheers and
groans and occasional cussing.

Bending low to
whisper in Cassie’s ear, Clint said, “Welcome to one of our local community
centers. People have played cards here since long before I was born.” Catching
the eye of one of the players, he said, “Hi Joe, how’s it going?”

“Could be worse,”
groaned a man of indeterminable age. The man’s weathered skin must be tougher
than her favorite saddle.

Others soon took
notice of Clint. They chose to ignore her. No one asked about her, nor did he
bother to introduce her. An older man chatted briefly with Clint about the
weather and then told him of a foal out of one of his stallions that had been
born two days prior.

As Clint turned and
guided Cassie down a narrow aisle, one of the older card players shouted, “Hey
Clint, you gonna make it to Luke’s circle? Tuesday night around six. He’ll feel
a lot better if you’re there.”

Clint stopped and
then retraced his steps. He appeared disturbed by the question, but maybe she
was misreading him. He had proven to be nearly indecipherable at times.

“How’s the kid been
doing since the break-in?” he asked casually.

“Keeping his nose
clean. If it weren’t for you, he knows he’d be sittin’ in jail rather than having
a circle. He really wants to make amends and move on. Are you gonna be there?”

Clint sighed. “Guess
I can go to California the following week. Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Cassie waited until
he paid for his purchases, but as they carried them toward the truck she asked,
“What was that all about? Luke and a circle.”

“Oh, that,” Clint
said, placing the ropes and other items he’d bought into the back of the truck.
He chuckled. “I forgot you were a social worker.”

“Huh, thought you
might have forgotten I was even there.”

He ignored that
jab. Why didn’t that surprise her?

“Luke is a fourteen
year old who can’t decide how he wants to play the game. He’s bright, but sees
little future in being bright. He and a couple other guys broke into one of the
local taverns. They were caught. Bright, but dumb.”

“Yeah, I know the
type. All too well.”

“Anyway, instead of
putting him in detention or giving him over to the state, the judge remanded
him to a circle.”

“So?”

As they climbed
into the cab of the pickup, Clint continued, “It’s a group of folks from the
community along with professionals and of course Luke and the bar owner. Luke has
admitted guilt, that’s not the issue. Now he can apologize for his mistake,
make amends—whatever the circle decides—and get on with his life.”

“So where do you
fit in?”

“I’ve sort of been
a mentor to Luke and his family for the last couple years.”

She flashed her
eyebrows.

 He shrugged. “It’s
part of what’s expected in this culture. We try to help one another out, if we
can.”

Running fingers
through her hair, she quipped, “Travers, I think you are a man of many secrets.
I expect it’d take years to learn about all of them.”

“Well, I guess I’m
safe then, since you’ll be headed back to Chicago soon.”

Cassie said
nothing, shading her eyes against the sun. She couldn’t discern if his words
were in jest or if they weren’t tinged with anger. What the hell had she done
to make him angry?

After spending much
of the afternoon showing Cassie more of the area, Clint turned down a washboard
gravel road. “I’ve got to make one more stop before we head back.”

The truck
maneuvered haphazardly across and around ruts. Cassie felt like she was flying
about the cab without a tether. Clint kept his seat as if he were riding a
bronco.

After what seemed
miles, Clint stopped the truck before a small old house. Its gray weathered
clapboards hadn’t seen paint in years. Its roof slouched a bit. Yet the
building appeared quite sturdy. A variety of well kept roses, columbine, and
honeysuckle provided color. Those and a large green garden on the south side of
the house bespoke someone who enjoyed digging in the soil and watching things
grow.

Before Cassie could
complete her appraisal of the house and its surroundings, a middle aged woman
came to the doorway. Coal black hair hung loose about her shoulders. Her dark
bronze skin and oval face reflected her Ute heritage. The woman waited, not
meeting Cassie’s gaze as she and Clint got out of the truck.

“Cassie, I want you
to meet my mother,” Clint said, escorting her by the arm. “Mom, this is Cassie
O’Hanlon. She’s come from Chicago to race a horse at the Downs. I needed to
stop and check on a couple things.”

Trying not to act
shocked, Cassie said, “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

The older woman
nodded, briefly glancing at Cassie, and murmured, “Me too.”

Before Clint’s
mother could look away, Cassie saw mirth in the woman’s eyes.

“Come in,” Mrs.
Travers said warmly. “Welcome to my home.”

Clint had already
disappeared inside. As she walked through the doorway, Cassie was struck by
both the hominess and the neatness of the house.

“Can I get you some
coffee?” the woman asked. “I always have a pot brewing.”

“Sure,” Cassie
responded easily. “I’m not certain how long Clint plans on staying.”

“There’s always
time for a cup of coffee. And I have some soup simmering.” The woman smiled. “You
may think it’s too hot for soup, but the nights are sometimes nippy, and I like
soup.”

“I do, too.” Cassie
beamed with a sense of being in the right place. She liked the woman with
twinkling eyes.

Noises of children
running outside interrupted her reverie. She turned just in time to see a girl
and boy knock each other about trying to wedge through the doorway at the same
time.

Both righted
themselves quickly and brushed reddish dirt from their clothes before being
introduced. Clint’s mother waited, giving the children time to straighten
themselves out. Each child stepped softly into the kitchen, as if not to
disturb. Each child smiled ear to ear, displaying pearly white teeth.

Cassie’s heart did
a somersault. What lovely children. So respectful, and yet full of energy and
life.

“Ms. O’Hanlon,
these are my grandchildren. Lester, eight. And Samantha is six. Say hi to Ms. O’Hanlon.”

“Hi, Ms. O’Hanlon,”
the two children chirped in unison, eyes bulging with curiosity.

“Oh, please call me
Cassie,” Cassie replied with a wide grin. Who did these impish children belong
to?

Clint hurried back
into the kitchen carrying several manila folders. When he saw the children, his
face went blank and then lit up like a morning sunrise,

Samantha ran to him
with open arms. “Daddy, you’re back. I’ve missed you so,” cried the little girl
with two pigtails swinging about her face.

“How long are you
back for?” asked Lester, stuffing his small hands into his pockets.

Clint ruffled the
boy’s hair. “I can’t stay now, but I’ll be back in few days. Then I’m home for
a while. I promise.”

Grabbing a hand of
each of his children, he walked them over to Cassie. “Have you had a chance to
meet this delightful woman? She lives in a very big city far from here. Don’t
think you’ve ever met anyone from Chicago before.”

Both children
beamed smiles that would warm the most frozen heart. Cassie struggled to
breathe and maintain her composure. Responsibilities! He had implied that
responsibilities kept him closer to home than he might wish. These were some
responsibilities!

Before long
Samantha was on Cassie’s lap introducing her to two cute dolls. Lester asked
several questions a minute. What kind of horses did she own? Was she married? Did
she have kids? Did she like his dad’s place? Cassie kept her responses light
and friendly, but she was beginning to wonder if the boy was his father’s
agent.

She overheard Clint
speaking to his mother in low tones. “I thought they were supposed to be with Grandmother
today. Is anything wrong?”

“Not to worry.” His
mother shook her head. “She woke up with a bad cold, so I said the kids have
more than enough to play with here. I can go to town some other day.”