Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (16 page)

In gleeful triumph
Cassie rode on as he filled her until she was overtaken by her own pulsing
convulsions. Boneless, without muscle, with no one in control, Cassie collapsed
against his torso.

Sated, filled,
Cassie basked in the afterglow of shared heat. Their comingled juices oozed
from her while she lay cradled in his arms. Could this be love? Her eyes popped
wide open. Fortunately, his were closed and did not witness the fright that
must have been evident in hers.

She stayed the
night.

Forgoing much
sleep, they’d made love twice more during the night and wee early morning
hours. Now they tarried over a late breakfast at O’Hare Field waiting for Clint’s
flight. Cassie had lost her appetite somewhere between the bed and O’Hare. What
to do with him? He wanted more of a road map than she had available. How far
would he push her? How long would he wait?

“So where do we go
from here?” Clint asked.

Cassie averted her
eyes. “I wish I knew.”

“You got to know,
woman, my feelings run deep for you. It’s not just great sex.”

“It is pretty good,
isn’t it?”

“Pretty good? Bullshit,
you’ve never been so well loved, and neither have I. Let’s stop kidding
ourselves about that.”

Cassie felt her
face go pale. Picking up a fork, she murmured, “I know. But there’s more to a
long term relationship than even sensational sex.”

He nodded, but said
nothing, keeping his gaze on her face.

Damn, he wasn’t going
to give her any slack. “I have so many unknowns—I can’t predict how they’ll all
fit together.” She watched carefully for his reaction. “I’m not sure I’m ready
to be with just one man. I don’t know what I want to do with my career. I’ve
got my dad to worry about. There’s Hope.” Could she say what she was most
frightened of? She closed her eyes and opened them quickly. “I don’t know if I
can be an instant mother.”

Clint covered her
hand with his, a serious expression on his face. “Thanks for letting me know
all that. You’re right, there’s a lot to work through. Just so you know, I
think you’d be a great mother.”

 He paused. “It’s
like putting a puzzle together. We know how some of the pieces will fit. Others
will fall into place as we go. The question is, are we willing to take the
puzzle off the shelf and work at it?”

Cassie studied the
placemat, trying to calm her nerves. She couldn’t give him all he desired, but she
sure wasn’t ready to let him go. At least not yet.

Meeting Clint’s
gaze, she said, more calmly than she thought possible, “Okay. I’ll agree for us
to open the puzzle box together and see what we can build. To explore. But if
either of us wants to set the puzzle aside and go our separate ways, then we
need to say so up front, directly, with integrity. And no pressure. I don’t
want to get hurt again.”

Clint’s features
softened for the first time since they’d sat down. “I accept those ground rules.
I don’t want anybody in all of this to be hurt. We both know there are more
people involved in this than the two of us. I’ll be in touch with you daily,
and I’ll be back as soon as I can.

Checking his watch,
Clint frowned. “I hate to do it, but I’ve got a plane to catch. I’m going to
miss you. Hope all goes well with the filly.”

“Me, too.” Cassie
gave him a half smile. “And I’ll miss you very much, Mr. Travers. Having
decided to peek at the puzzle, I don’t want you to take the box and go home
with it.”

He chuckled,
rubbing his palms together thoughtfully. “I think we both have access to the
puzzle pieces, together or alone.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

A heavy mist hung
over the mile long oval. Cassie could see the exercise rider working Clint’s
four year old gelding when they were on the near side of the track, but when
they rounded the clubhouse turn and headed into the backstretch, horse and
rider disappeared into the thick fog. Even then she could hear the rider
clucking to his mount.

Normally such a
gray morning would have taken her on a mystical journey back to Ireland. She’d
been there only once as a small girl, with her aunt, but she would never forget
the blending of slate gray and emerald green on those thick, soggy mornings. But
not this day. Cassie sighed, seemingly weighed down by the fog and her
troubles.

When Cassie left
the farm at 4:30 a.m., Hope looked as fit as ever. Her race was only three days
off. Cassie worried whether she could really prepare her well enough at the
farm. Certainly other trainers did the same with flighty horses, but this would
be something new for Hope.

Could she protect
the horse from whoever wanted to do her harm? Could she figure out who was at
the bottom of all of this?

Cassie took a deep
breath. Hope was only part of her worry. What about
him?
Could she
really open herself up to that kind of potential pain? She felt a knot develop
in her stomach—she wasn’t ready to lose him.

But two instant
kids? How could she ever be a caring mother? She’d never had one. And what else
would he ask of her—what about her career? Could she give up her life? Cassie
shook her head. “That’s got to be too melodramatic,” she muttered. “My life
would change; it wouldn’t be over.”

Hell, he might
change his mind and not even come back. All she had to offer him was a set of
insurmountable problems.

Hearing footsteps,
Cassie glanced over her shoulder to see Ed Harrington striding toward her. His
jaw was set firmly and determination shone in his eyes. Now what?

“Well, what a
surprise. You’re alone. Did your cowboy sleep in?”

Reining in her
temper, she responded evenly, “No, he had to return to Utah.”

“So when the going
gets tough, he runs back to the ranch.”

“Clint has other
responsibilities,” Cassie said, her back stiffening.

“I’ll just bet he
has,” Harrington said, as if he knew a secret.

She glared at the
man a long moment and then demanded, “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing.” He
shrugged innocently. She knew he mocked her.

“What Clint Travers
does or what I do is none of your business. I don’t know why you should care
one way or the other.”

“No need to get
bent out of shape,” Harrington countered softly. “I’m just not sure I trust the
guy.”

“And who asked you?”
The nerve of him. She was getting very tired of men looking out for her
welfare.

“Did you ever have
the horse checked by a vet? And I do care about what happens to you, whether
you think so or not.” Harrington leaned against the rail. Staring into the
mist, he asked quietly, “Are you certain it’s not Travers who’s drugging your
horse?”

His words hung like
heavy blankets, suffocating the air between them.

Cassie stood
flabbergasted; her mouth fell open. At last she stammered, “You’ve got to be
kidding. He’s never even been around when Hope had a bad race.”

“Doesn’t have to
be. He’s got money doesn’t he?”

She nodded.

“Anybody with money
can buy a guy to drug a horse or throw a race.”

“Clint wouldn’t do
that!” she said. “He likes the horse. He doesn’t have horses running against
her here. There would be no reason.”

She was annoyed
that her own voice had faltered when uttering that last statement.

“Listen to
yourself,” Harrington said. “No reason? Humph, he wants you. That’s reason
enough. Without a successful contender, you’d be out of the horse training
business in a minute. And our cowboy could ride in here and take away his
damsel in distress without a lot of fuss and bother.”

“Got it all figured
out, don’t you?” Cassie shoved away from the rail fence. “Well, I’m not buying
it. It’s too far fetched.”

Ed Harrington didn’t
move. He just glowered into the rising fog.

“It could just as
easily be you,” Cassie said, going on the offensive. “You at least have horses
running against me. You might think you have a better chance with me if Hope
isn’t a contender and if the blame can be cast on Clint.”

Ed turned and faced
her. “Fine,” he said in a low, thick voice, “think what you want. For me, I don’t
trust a guy who runs out on a woman when she’s in trouble.”

Cassie placed a
hand cautiously on his arm. “Ed, I am moved that you’re trying to help. But I
think you’re absolutely wrong.”

Letting out a deep
breath, the tall trainer growled, “Okay, have it your way. Just don’t forget
what I said. You may not know who you can trust. I’ll be watching, just in
case.”

Cassie heard Ed’s last
muffled words as he walked briskly away. She turned back to watch the first
rays of sunshine filter through the mist, making thousands of shiny pinwheels
out of the grayness. Try as she might, she could not prevent tears from sliding
down her cheeks. Damn, she hated crying.

It couldn’t be
possible—what Harrington had suggested. Clint wouldn’t do anything to
deliberately hurt her or her horse. No way. She respected his loyalty to Lester
and Samantha. If he had committed not to be away from them for more than a week
or two at a time, then he needed to honor that commitment.

Was she only
thinking with her heart? Cassie tried to massage the numbness from her brain. Was
it possible he’d become so obsessed with her he’d do something so deceitful as
drugging a horse?

She paused,
trembling. Was Harrington simply trying to sow seeds of doubt and direct
attention away from his own actions? Either way, she didn’t like having to be
suspicious about acquaintances, friends, and especially, her lover.

Who to trust? Even
her dad had said it was just him and her. Cassie scuffed her foot in the dirt. Playing
detective was not her idea of fun.

Damn, she wished
Clint had stayed. But she was a big girl, competent and strong. She could do
this. How could she stand up to six-foot-plus delinquents without batting an
eye, and yet have her confidence blown away in the wind when it came to Clint
Travers?

Travers. She
cringed. What was really eating at her? Was it that emotion she didn’t want to
name? There was a difference between needing some good loving and needing love.
Wasn’t there?

- o -

“Louie.”

“Yeah.”

“Slow that filly
down. Make sure she doesn’t win.”

“Again?”

“You heard me. Do
it.”

Louie glared at the
phone and its annoying dial tone.

- o -

It was race day,
again. Cassie’s stomach churned like a clothes dryer. She’d done everything
just as she and Clint and her father had agreed to do.

She’d trailered the
filly onto the track grounds two hours ahead of the race. Hope had never been
out of her sight. No one had gotten close enough to touch the horse or her
food. Of course, that had changed some in the paddock area.

Her assistant
helped saddle the filly. And the paddock judge had to hold the horse’s mouth
open to read the tattoo on the inside of her lower lip, making sure it was the
horse who’d been entered to run. And now she watched the jockey guide the horse
onto the track, where he was met by an outrider.

That’s it!
Cassie gasped. It
must be the outrider. Why hadn’t they thought of that? She tried to watch
closely. Reaching for her binoculars, she quickly had the glasses focused on
her horse. But even then, to her dismay, she wasn’t always able to see the
outrider’s hands.

Had she gone to all
that work protecting Hope only to have a nameless person, who blended into the
track scenery so well that one seldom remembered they were there, bring her
filly and their dreams down?

In contrast to her
earlier walk from the barn to the paddock, Hope was not up on her toes. Her
ears did not perk forward. Cassie could almost see the energy draining out of
the horse. Something was wrong. There was no question about it. The horse had
changed dramatically in the last five or ten minutes.

Someone somehow had
gotten to her. Cassie put away the glasses. It was too late. Her balled fists
ground into her thighs. Once again she’d let everyone down: her horse, her dad,
herself, even Clint.

Why the hell wasn’t
he here?

The running of the
race held no surprises. Hope ran a dismal sixth in a field of ten. Only able to
pass a few tiring horses at the close of the race, Cassie’s Hope did not appear
to belong with these quality horses.

Dejected, Cassie
led Hope back to the barn area to rub her down with alcohol and to give her
some water before taking the defeated filly home. She desperately wanted to be
back at the farm. She didn’t want to talk to anyone at the track.

- o -

During the drive
back to the farm, while she did her evening chores, and long afterward, Cassie
railed at herself. She had failed. Maybe Harrington was right. Maybe she was in
over her head.

Clearly, she wasn’t
good enough to train a horse and keep it safe from interference. Why had she
ever left her secure social work world?

She wanted out.
Now!
To hell with six month agreements. Cassie paced wildly up and down the stable
aisle muttering softly, cursing loudly, searching for a way out. Any way out.

If Cassie’s Hope
had a future, then someone else would have to step up and work with her.

Why the hell wasn’t
he here on the day she needed him most?

That’s not fair. He
has other responsibilities.
She didn’t want him to run out on his commitment to
his kids. Her mother had done that—she didn’t wish that on anyone, especially
Lester and Sammy.

Cassie paused. Stepping
into the small office tack room, she collapsed in the old swivel chair. Life
seemed so confused. So cruel. Where did she fit?

In his arms.

No!

She laid her head
on the desk and cried. Her body heaved and sighed. She had to make some
decisions, and quickly. Things would be better if she could just be decisive.

Her father would be
disappointed. Clint might be angry. But she had to regain some control over her
life. She had to give up some of the baggage.

Mercifully, she
drifted off to sleep.

Later that evening,
Cassie slumped in the living room leather chair across from her father. He wasn’t
heaping blame on her. In some ways, that made matters worse. If he’d blame her,
it would be easier to quit. Maybe she should get in her car and drive back to
her apartment. She scowled. Even that wasn’t an option—her sublease still had
several months to go.

At least her dad
acknowledged that Hope was probably doped again, although he didn’t seem
particularly moved by the outrider theory. He seemed more upset that his doctor
forbade him from going to the track.

“Can’t give up now,
girl,” he admonished, flashing an eyebrow at her. “We still have one more race
before the Lincoln to smoke out the bastard who has it in for us.”

Sinking further
into the chair, Cassie nodded abjectly.

“Sort of wish
Travers was here,” Tug said, scratching his chin thoughtfully. “He’s got a good
head on his shoulders when it comes to deviousness. Wonder what he would make
of this mess now?”

“I don’t know.” She
hesitated. Should she share what she’d heard? “Ed Harrington thought maybe
Travers was behind this whole thing, as a way to get me to quit training and
move out west with him.”

“Humph. That’s pure
foolishness, if I’ve ever heard it.”

“But…” Cassie
struggled under a wave of mixed feelings. She had to say it. “He could
certainly buy someone to do the job. What if I’m being played for a fool? You
said yourself that it’s only you and me that we can trust.”

She hadn’t seen her
father’s eyes so sad since he was in the hospital. He shook his head. “I didn’t
mean to leave Clint out. Harrington is just trying to be a busybody and cause
trouble where there’s no reason for it.”

“So you think we
can really trust Travers?”

“Damn, love is
blind.” He laughed out loud.

She felt heat rise
to her cheeks.

“Thinking Travers
is the villain is ridiculous. You’re mixing your personal stuff up with this. You’re
acting like some young green filly. You just don’t want to trust your own gut.”