Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) (29 page)

“About who?” Cassie
answered, frowning, unsuccessful in masking her annoyance.

Ashton laughed. “About
the man who hangs over this day. About the man who said he loved you and you
were slow to believe. About the man who clutches your soul, whether you like it
or not, girl.”

“Nothing,” Cass
whispered faintly. “He doesn’t ever want to see me again.”

“Don’t you think he’ll
call and congratulate you on Hope’s victory? Certainly, he’ll learn of it.”

“He could’ve
watched it on satellite, if he wanted to. But he’ll never call. Ashton, I can’t
tell you how absolutely stone-walled he went when he thought I suspected him of
drugging Hope. He was so shut down, I don’t think he heard anything I said.”

Ashton chuckled,
pulling down the visor to keep out the glare of the late afternoon sun. “It
does sound like he lost it. But when I met him, he struck me as a basically
calm and steady kind of guy. Sounds like he was great with his kids and he was
so obviously in love with you. I don’t think that kind of love can dissolve in
one night. I suspect he’s embarrassed and as plagued about what to do next as
you are.”

Cassie shrugged. Keeping
her eyes on the traffic, she mumbled, “It’s over. That’s about all there is to
say.”

“I’ve never seen
you give up like this, Cass. You’d told me what he won’t do. What do you hope
will happen with Clint?”

“I don’t know.”
Cassie turned sharply to her friend. “I honestly don’t know. And don’t try to
be my social worker, Ashton. I don’t like it one bit.”

Shifting her
attention back to the road, Cassie felt the tension ebb from her body. “I’m
sorry. I know you care, and I appreciate you so much. I imagine I’ve put a lot
of things on hold until after the Lincoln. Dad has finally reached a longtime
dream. Though, I doubt that will be enough for him now.

“Once horses and
horseracing get in your blood, there’s always the push for more. Can you make
it to the next level? Can you improve the breed another notch? You watch the
little foals running around the paddock and you can’t help but wonder which of
them will be the next big horse.” Cassie laughed at herself. “I guess it’s true
that you’ve got to be a dreamer to work with racehorses. But what a great dream
to pursue.”

“That’s what’s
happening to you, isn’t it?” Ashton’s eyes went wide. “You want more. You want
to pursue the dream further. Cassie’s Hope is only a beginning.”

“I do,” Cassie
confessed, feeling goose bumps gather on her arms. “I’m still shocked by my own
response to being there today in that winner’s circle. I’ve stood there with my
father on many occasions, but not like today. Not having trained a horse with
some promise to a point where she could not only contend but win against stiff
competition.

“You’re right. I
don’t know how I can go back to my old world. It seems so mundane, now. I’d
love to be able to breed horses like Dad does. We’d sell some and race some,
but always attempting to improve the breed.”

“Isn’t that what
Clint Travers does?” asked Ashton innocently.

Cassie hit the
brake. The trailer swerved. She managed to straighten things out before causing
an accident. She glared through the windshield, wishing for the turn-off for
the farm to appear. She loved Ashton deeply. They’d been friends for years, but
she didn’t want to delve into her feelings about horses or about Clint Travers.

As they turned into
the driveway, Ashton stopped humming a popular tune. “I want you to know, Cass
that this has been a very special day for me too. I am so thrilled for you and
your dad.” She chuckled. “If you make this your career, I’m going to have to
get some books and read up on betting. It was fantastic standing with you in
that winner’s circle. And I can certainly understand why you’d like to
replicate that moment over and over again.”

Cassie welcomed the
lighter mood. “Maybe you might want to buy into a horse. Nothing is better than
being an owner of the horse in that circle set aside for winners.”

A slow smile crept
across Ashton’s face. “You know, I think you’re onto something there. I could
do that. And we could continue chasing some dreams together. I think I’d like
that.”

After turning off
the ignition but before getting out, Cassie clasped her friend’s hand. “And I
do appreciate your concern and your insights, Ashton. I’ll always value our
friendship.”

“You better, girl,”
Ashton teased. “Because I’ll be watching.”

The party was
already in full swing when Cassie and Ashton entered the house. Glasses of
champagne had appeared from somewhere. Her father probably shouldn’t be
drinking any, but Cassie knew it would be futile to try and stop him. Instead,
she joined in the celebration.

They took their
glasses into the living room where her dad sat in his most comfortable chair. He
didn’t look any worse off for having spent much of the day away from the house.
Actually, he had a little more color than usual.

Lifting his glass
in salute, he announced, “And here comes the best damn trainer at the track. Congratulations,
honey.”

“Thanks,” she
retorted, “but I have a long ways to go before that happens.”

“Your dad has been
glowing about your achievements ever since we left the track,” Susan bubbled. “He
has more stories about you than I bet you even know.”

Cassie winced. “I
wouldn’t doubt that one bit. But then I wouldn’t believe most of them, either. Remember,
you’re listening to an Irish horse trainer. Listen to everything with a block
of salt.”

“Now, Cass,” Tug
protested, reaching for her hand.

She allowed herself
to be pulled down so she was sitting on the floor beside him. This was good. How
long had it been since they shared such happiness?

“Tell us,” Traci
prodded with a laugh, “about the time you and your dad slept in a horse trailer
overnight to save money down in Oklahoma and the police came by.”

“He didn’t,” Cassie
scolded glaring at her father.

“Well, now we’ve
lived a rich life, girl. These young ones haven’t seen or done half of what you’ve
done. Isn’t it a shame?”

Tears rolled down
Cassie’s cheeks. She knew what he said was true. She’d been ashamed of much of
her childhood. But he was right. They’d had a rich life in spite of a reluctant
mother. And damn, she was going to celebrate. She lifted her empty glass and
didn’t notice who filled it.

“You chased the
dream and won,” she said happily. “How does it feel, Dad? How does it really
feel?”

She watched him
turn serious. The jokes and storytelling were over, at least for the moment. He
was reaching for something special and she wanted to hear it.

“It’s hard to find
the right words,” he began. “Maybe I don’t know what they are.”

Four women waited
for him. No one tried to rush him.

“We’ve been through
so much. The good and the bad. I guess the dream probably cost us your mother. No,
don’t try to tell me otherwise, girl,” he said before his daughter could speak.
“We’ve been in and out of a lot of towns and tracks looking for just the right
horse. I’m just so pleased that we raised Hope from a foal. And that you could
take the time to train her. You don’t know how special that has been for me. It’s
like the two of you have been learning and growing together. I expect she’s
taught you a thing or two.”

Cassie nodded in
agreement. Her tears matched his.

“That’s the way it
ought to be between a horse and trainer.” Tug reached for his large bandanna
and blew his nose. “Well, this is good. No denying that. But now,” he winked at
his listeners, “we’ve gotta conjure up another dream. How about the Kentucky
Derby?”

The women were
stunned.

“Well, you gotta
have dreams to live, don’t you?” Looking around he sputtered, “My glass is
empty. Is anybody gonna do anything about it?”

Chuckling, Ashton
did the honors and whispered to Cassie, “Where did he get
his
social
work degree?”

- o -

With satisfaction
and relief, Clint Travers watched the replay of the Land of Lincoln Stakes on
his TV fed by a satellite dish. He’d known all along the horse was damn good. The
way she raced so patiently only underscored her ability to pace herself. She
could have a very good four-year-old campaign if anybody cared enough to race
her. He sure hoped Harrington didn’t have that opportunity.

“There she is,”
Sammy shrieked, running to the large screen TV to point out Cassie shaking the
jockey’s hand. The camera followed Cassie leading her horse in circles waiting
for the final results to be posted. Then they all watched as she led Hope into
the winner’s circle. It was hard to tell who was smiling most, Cassie or her
father. Clint was pleased to see that the old codger had made it to the race. He
appeared healthier than he’d ever seen him.

His heart lurched
when he saw her lean over to kiss her father. “Damn,” he mumbled.

“When are we going
to see her again?” Lester demanded. “We never had a chance to say goodbye.”

Clint shook his
head at his son’s sense of unfairness. He’d have to learn things didn’t always
work out the way one hoped.

Sammy crawled up
into her father’s lap. “I want to graduate Cassie. Can’t we call her up?”

“No, I don’t think
that would be very good idea,” Clint said, wishing his daughter would forget
about the woman.

“Well, I’m going to
graduate her.” Sammy stubbornly dropped to the floor. “Aunt Silver Hawk, you’ll
help me write a letter, won’t you?”

“Sure, I will,” she
sighed, scowling defiantly at her brother. “I’m sure Cassie will be pleased to
know that you’re happy for her.”

Blurred by a
mixture of emotions he could not define, Clint lurched to his feet and fled the
house, rushing to the stable, where he usually could regain his balance.

Shortly he was
working a young filly through her paces. Even in the round pen, he couldn’t
escape the nagging feeling that he was not entirely finished with the woman on
the TV screen. His grandmother’s words continued to haunt him, for he knew he
could not easily dismiss the old woman. And the kids certainly had not accepted
his claim that he was through with Cassie. Sometimes he’d like to wring his
sister’s neck, but he supposed it wasn’t a terrible thing for Sammy to write
her congratulations to Cassie. He had to admit that he was proud of what she’d
accomplished with Hope. But damn if he would tell her that.

Later, as he was
putting away tack, he was none too pleased to see Silver Hawk entering the
stable.

“The horse ran a
good race today,” his sister volunteered, plopping herself down on a bale of
hay.

“She ran the kind
of race I thought she could. It was a good win.”

“Cassie looked
happy.”

“Most winners do.”

Silver Hawk nodded,
looked away and then back to give her brother a withering glare as only she
could.

Watching her
emotions ebb and flow, Clint thought, and not for the first time, that his
sister had received a stronger gene pool from his grandmother than he had, and
that it wasn’t fair. Both of them could be mysterious, undaunting, and
incredibly damning.

“So,” Silver Hawk
began, tossing her braids over her shoulders as if she were preparing for war, “when
are you going deal with the mess you’ve made?”

“What mess?” he
growled.

“You know what I
mean. Cassie. The kids. Yourself. Our family. Pick anyone,” she said, “they all
seem to be intertwined, like a wet lariat.”

“Time will take
care of things,” Clint said, none too gently. “It doesn’t require meddling from
anyone else.”

“Okay. I give up. You
win,” the young woman said sadly. “I’m not blaming you completely. I’m sure
Cassie has to own her share of the burden here. But the kids shouldn’t.” Silver
Hawk’s voice rose uncharacteristically. “They’re hurt because they gave of
themselves freely with no strings attached.”

Clint continued to
glare, but knew it was useless to interrupt.

“Somehow you have
to help them get through this,” his sister pleaded, “however you and Cassie
resolve things.”

“They’re resolved!”

“Like hell they
are,” Silver Hawk hissed, jumping up from the hay bale. “And Lester and Sammy
only feel rejected and hurt. You didn’t let them say goodbye, and you haven’t
even tried to explain anything to them so they might have a chance of
understanding and getting beyond the pain. This thing between you and Fire
Woman is bigger than either one of you. When are you going to wake up and see
that and do something about it?”

“Fire Woman.” Clint
lurched away from the stall wall. “That’s a crock.” He started to walk away
ending the conversation.

But his sister was
not yet done.

“I’m going to
saddle my horse and pack some food. I’ll be gone two, maybe as many as four
days. Deal with your kids while I’m gone.” With that injunction, she spun on
her heel and stalked off.