Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (21 page)

Cassie laughed. “How
much time do you have?”

“A lifetime.”

Cassie felt her cheeks
burn. “I wanted to be in a position to help people help themselves. I guess I especially
wanted to help kids stay out of trouble. My childhood wasn’t done by the
textbook, you know, but I was loved and supported, even if I didn’t have a mom.
It was important for me to help other kids like myself. To help them feel loved
and to know that they could be loved and loving and could study and work hard
and be whatever they wanted to be.”

“So you are a
dreamer.”

“Of course I am,”
she said, poking him in the side. “That’s not a banner headline at this point
in our relationship.”

“No, but it’s one
of the many aspects about you that I have come to love very, very much.”

Cassie fumbled with
the remote to unlock the car.

Getting into the
passenger side of the car, Clint changed the subject. “I think we should check
up on this Harold kid. I can have my private detective buddy do a run on him.”

Cassie nodded. “Okay,
if you think it’s necessary. But I can’t imagine he’d know enough to drug Hope.”

“We can’t rule him
out without checking. He only has to know someone who can do the job for him. My
friend is good. If the kid is tied into your troubles, we’ll know about it
soon.”

“Not soon enough,”
Cassie groaned, merging into traffic.

“Hope is coming
along real nice. She’ll be primed for Saturday’s race,” Silver Hawk said,
admiring the sleek filly moving fluidly about the large paddock.

“Yeah, it’s only
Tuesday, but I’m already anxious about Saturday,” Cassie replied, leaning
against the white fence boards. The horse looked like she didn’t have a care in
the world. Cassie was envious. “I’ll probably take her to the track on Friday
to reintroduce her to the racing surface. And then bring her back here so we
can keep an eye on her. Thank goodness Hope trailers easily.”

Unlike Hope, Cassie
carried a burden of worries. Her father’s health seemed to benefit from all the
extra attention, yet he had a long ways to go before being in a position to do
much but sit and watch the world go by.

She’d appreciated
Silver Hawk’s help with the horses as well as with the kids. Yet, she still
felt uncomfortable around the woman. Whenever Cassie looked her, Clint’s sister
seemed to be scrutinizing her.

Cassie heaved a
sigh. Maybe her women’s group was right. Maybe she was simply suffering from
too much intense self-analysis of late. Maybe it was best to sort of let things
happen. She shook her head. She needed to be much more in control of herself
than that.

“I don’t remember
when I’ve had more horse under me,” Silver Hawk said. “She moves like a natural
athlete. Thanks for giving me an opportunity to exercise her this morning. I
hope, for your father’s sake, we can nail the guy who’s trying to destroy his
dream.”

“Yeah, me too,”
Cassie said wistfully. Somehow it didn’t surprise her that Clint’s sister
connected so easily with her father and his dream. After all, she was a woman
who had lived and worked with horses full time probably from the time she could
ride. “This may be his last chance. I don’t see any more
Cassie’s Hopes
in the stable. Dad refuses to go out and buy a contender. And I don’t know how
many more seasons he has for this game.”

“None of us knows
that,” agreed the bronze-skinned woman, glancing thoughtfully at the early
morning sun. “The past we can’t change, and the future remains a blur. We only
have this day.”

A soft breeze tossed
strands of long ebony hair across Silver Hawk’s face, briefly obscuring her
features.

“Yeah,” Cassie
responded, “sometimes I wish I had a crystal ball to see past tomorrow. But I
don’t, and I can’t.”

“And what about
Clint?” Silver Hawk asked, dropping her voice low. “How many more seasons does
he have without the woman he loves? Without you?”

Cassie stared at
the smug questioner and then shook her head. “Damn, I thought Indian women were
supposed to be indirect.”

Silver Hawk laughed
easily. Propping a foot on the first fence rail, she replied, “Some are, some
aren’t. But then you certainly know about the dangers of stereotypes. Maybe it’s
my years at Berkeley. Maybe I don’t want to play at being extra polite.” She
paused.

“My brother loves
you.” Silver Hawk turned toward Cassie and folded her arms across her
mid-section. “That, I know. So do the kids. Now that I’ve seen you with him and
with Lester and Sammy, I know that you love them too. You may be hiding that
fact from yourself, I don’t know. You are good for him and I expect he is good
for you.” Silver Hawk raised an eyebrow. “So what’s the problem?”

Cassie struggled to
find her voice. Idly, she tugged on a blouse sleeve. She couldn’t find the
right words to form an answer.

“What’s the hang
up, Ms. Social Worker? With many white women, it might be the color of our
skin,” Silver Hawk said caustically. Her voice softened. “But somehow I don’t
think that’s got anything to do with it for you.”

“No, that’s not it
at all,” Cassie stammered, taking a step a back.

“I know that,”
Silver Hawk hastened to respond. “So what is it?”

“I’m not even
certain what it is,” Cassie finally confessed, fighting back tears. “I’m
scared, I know that.”

“Is it the kids? They
think you’re very spectacular.”

“That’s part of it.
They’re darlings. And I know they want a mother, but I’m not sure I’m up for
handling that kind of responsibility.”

Silver Hawk nodded,
but said nothing.

Both women watched
a mare in the neighboring paddock arch its neck and reach down to nuzzle a
spindly-legged foal.

“There’s so much at
stake,” Cassie said, wrapping her arms tightly around her torso. “It’s not just
me. It’s not just me and Clint. It’s not just the kids. There’s his family. There’s
Dad. How could we pull it all off, if we wanted to? Where would we live? What
about my career? What of the future? Will I throw everything away only to be
rejected again?”

“Ah,” Silver Hawk
said. “We never know how much to risk for the unknown.”

“I’ve gone through
a lot to get what I have. What I have may not be much in the eyes of many. But
it’s mine, and it’s safe.”

“We don’t go out of
our way to seek pain. You have much to share with my brother, with his kids,
with all of us.” Silver Hawk flashed a hopeful smile. “But it is not a one way
street. He—they, we—have much to share in return.”

Silver Hawk paused
and looked to the west. “I’d guess about now, Grandmother would remind us that
we are not alone in all of this. Great Spirit has a plan. We often cannot see
it clearly. Sometimes we can only feel our way along the path.”

Cassie closed her
eyes, remembering the bent elderly woman. “How do you explain your grandmother?”

Silver Hawk looked
sharply at Cassie and her brow crinkled. Then her eyes, her entire body
convulsed with laughter. “I don’t try to explain Grandmother. She is
inexplicable. She is simply Grandmother and I accept her and love her as such. You
can, too, if you wish. Grandmother has blessed you; you are one of us. What you
do with that, only you can decide. Only you can discern your own path.”

Cassie moved to hug
Silver Hawk. How wrong she had been about her initially. Here was a woman she
could trust, could lean on if necessary. But would she ever be able to trust
the invisible path? How could she trust something she couldn’t hold in her
hands?

“Thank you, Silver
Hawk,” Cassie whispered, clutching the woman tightly. “I’ll try to remember
your words.”

“I’ve been doing
some research,” Clint announced later that afternoon, placing his laptop
computer on the desk in Cassie’s loft apartment. “Maybe this will shed some
light on who’s behind the drugging.”

As the machine
booted up humming and flickering, Cassie stepped closer to see what Clint was
pulling up on the screen.

“As you know, the
Daily
Racing Form
maintains a record of every race a horse has run, along with
names of other horses, jockeys and trainers, in addition, of course, to the
names of winners and so on,” Clint said. “I’ve checked every race Cassie’s Hope
has run. Excluding the Wyoming races, four trainers have had horses in each
race she has entered. And in each race there were six jockeys in common. Look. Here’s
a list of trainers, and next to it is the list of jocks. Any reactions?”

Cassie stared at
the familiar names. She shook her head, pursing her lips. “Louie Picard and
Earl Sheraton have been long time friends of Dad’s and mine. I hardly know Troy
Jackson, but others claim he’s honest as the day is long.”

Shrugging, she
groaned at the last name. “Harrington’s an ass, but I don’t think he would go
out of his way to hurt me. And the jocks? They’ve all ridden for me in the last
few months. Can’t say much at all about them. They ride, and I pay them.”

“Yeah, I didn’t
think it would be that simple,” Clint grunted. “Still, it may prove to be
useful information. These are the people with the most access and probably the
most to gain from throwing a race. Besides owners and bettors, of course.

“Eight owners have
run against you on at least two or more occasions. Anything surprise you on
this list?” Clint asked, pressing a button to bring up the owner list.

Again, Cassie
studied the names. “Nope. It’s a combination of folks we’ve known forever and a
few new faces. But I’ve no reason to suspect one person over the other, or any
at all.”

“I’ll try the names
out on your father tomorrow morning and see if any name jogs a memory. I’m
still guessing that this has more to do with your dad or you than with the
filly.”

“What do you mean?”

Pushing away from
the desk, Clint grimaced. “Your dad’s been in this business a long time. He’s
bound to have made some enemies here and there. Or maybe it’s somebody who
doesn’t like the idea of a woman trainer starting off with a stakes contender.”

“I’ve wondered
enough about that,” she responded cautiously. “Maybe it’s someone who doesn’t
want a woman trainer around, period.”

“Has anyone been
ragging on you, giving you a hard time for working at the track?”

“Not unless you
count Harrington.”

“Why have you ruled
him out from suspicion?” Clint’s expression blended surprise with accusation.

She blushed,
remembering that Harrington didn’t trust Clint. Would the two men be friends if
it weren’t for her? Probably. They had more in common than either cared to
admit, including an overly protective posture toward women.

“Well?”

A corner of her
mouth turned up. “It’s not what you’re thinking. I know he was interested in
me, but I set him straight about that. I guess I don’t think he’d stoop so low
as to drug a horse.”

“Don’t be so sure,”
Clint countered. “He didn’t seem very pleased to have another man nosing about
trying to find out what was going on with your Hope…” He paused. “Harrington
stays on the list.” His voice rose. “Okay?”

“Fine! Both you
guys seem to suffer from an excessive amount of male testosterone.”

“Now, what the hell
does that mean?”

“Never mind,” she
said, turning to march across the small loft room. She was both annoyed and
flattered by his display of jealousy.

“You know, what you
and I have is very rare,” Clint said, his voice rising a bit. “And it will work
if we both let it.”

Cassie tensed. She
knew he meant it would work if she let it happen. “Clint, you promised you
wouldn’t pressure me.”

“Well, it would
work,” he said, ignoring her plea. “We could use this place as our base. Your dad
is too frail for us to think about any other arrangement. The kids could go to
school here and then maybe spend their summers with their grandmother and
great-grandmother. They will want to continue teaching them the ways of our
people. But there’s nothing to stop us, if we decide it’s what we want.”

Cassie closed her
eyes. He was so determined to work out the practical difficulties—did she dare
tell him how terrified she was by the vision of being a wife and mother? She
swallowed.

“You could keep
your job, whichever one you choose—social worker or horse trainer. I can do my
work from here with periodic commutes to the ranch. Silver Hawk could manage
things at the ranch nicely and I could continue to travel to the sales. It
would all work. Can’t you see that?”

She chewed her
trembling lower lip. “I don’t want to hurt you or anyone else—but I can’t see
it. Not yet. And I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to see it. You’re not
playing fair, Clint Travers. You’re not playing fair at all. You bring the kids
here. You have everything worked out.” She turned her back on him. “Well, I don’t.
And I’m not ready to do that kind of practical thinking.”

Cassie turned to
watch him shove his papers in his briefcase. Why had he pushed, after his
promise not to pressure?