Cassie's Hope (Riders Up) Read online

  What happens when a fiercely loyal widowed half-Ute cowboy meets a fiery redhead with an Irish temper to match? Cassidy O’Hanlon—Cassie, to her friends—has set aside her Chicago career for six months to train racehorses for her dad after his stroke.

  Furious the interloper has shipped in a ringer from the Chicago circuit to his Wyoming turf, Rancher/trainer Clint Travers sets out to put her in her place. Sparks fly immediately, but after their rocky start, the two quickly forge a passionate relationship, and he follows her to Chicago.

  When it becomes clear someone is drugging Cassie’s horse, Clint sets out to solve the mystery, but storms off in a cloud of wounded pride when suspicions turn to him.

  Can love trump pride?

  Riders Up

  Book One

  Cassie’s Hope

  by

  Adriana Kraft

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Riders Up: Book One

  Cassie’s Hope

  By

  Adriana Kraft

  ISBN: 978-0-9894693-4-0

  Copyright © 2013 by Adriana Kraft

  B&B Publishing

  1970 N. Leslie St. #560

  Pahrump, NV 89060

  Cover by

  Rebecca Poole

  Dreams2Media.com

  All Rights Are Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Riders Up

  Book One: Cassie’s Hope

  Chicago, 1996

  Available now

  Book Two: Heat Wave

  Iowa, 2000

  Release date: April, 2014

  Book Three: Willow Smoke

  Chicago, 2002

  Release date: August, 2014

  Book Four: Detour Ahead

  California, 2004

  Release Date: December, 2014

  1996

  PROLOGUE

  “You must know your heart. Trust your blood.”

  The setting sun cast a warm glow on the reddish clay hills of eastern Utah. Resting one foot on the lowest corral rail, Clint Travers paid close attention to the soft words spoken by his grandmother. She stood patiently, hands clasped at her waist, gazing at the eastern horizon.

  Clint loved the bent old woman whose dark hair hung in a single braid over a heavy shawl. He’d fight mountain lions barehanded for her. But she wanted him to see the world as she saw it, and that wasn’t entirely possible.

  “You are a good grandson. Listen carefully. A red ball will rise from a great lake in the east. Those flames will make for you much joy and much pain. Do not be afraid. They are your destiny.”

  “What do you mean, Grandmother?” Scowling, Clint pushed away from the fence. “I’ve never been good with riddles.”

  “I speak no riddle. I speak of your future.”

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Dad, I’ve got a life. I want to live it.” Arms folded and shoulders squared, Cassie glared at the tired old man slouched in the battered arm chair.

  “Now, Cass. I’m not askin’ much. Six months. You can manage that for old time’s sake, if nothin’ else.”

  Cassie dropped her gaze. Before his stroke, Tug O’Hanlon had been such a vibrant man, full of unstoppable energy and everlasting dreams. Now her father sat with blankets draped across his thin shriveled frame, his energy sapped. Yet, somehow he was still able to dream.

  She shook her head. “Old time’s sake.” Her voice strained from remembering. “Maybe we recall the past differently.”

  She paced slowly. “Broken down trucks, rusting horse trailers, rundown hotels—if we could afford them. Watching you chase rainbows from one racetrack to another. I don’t know about old times, Dad. As I recall, they weren’t so grand.”

  “They weren’t so bad, girl. You saw a lot of country most kids don’t ever see. You got to dream. Many folks don’t never dream. You know horses inside and out, better than most who make a living with ‘em.” The old man paused to catch his breath. “And we always had this place to come back to.” He squinted. He choked. “Could’ve been worse.”

  Cassie winced at the sudden ache behind her eyes. Not now. Don’t give in now. But she found herself kneeling by her father, holding his wrinkled hand. “I know. We had a lot of good times. I’m sure it could’ve been worse. And through it all, you never gave up this land.”

  Gruffness returned to his voice. “You sell your land, and you risk having nothing left.”

  How many times had she heard that aphorism in her twenty-seven years? Scenes raced through her mind’s eye, each one tumbling into the next. Spending summers on the road with him when school was out, getting caught up in his dreams, mucking the stables, exercising horses, cheering wildly when their horses ran well, and wondering where the next meal was coming from when they didn’t. And coming home to the farm and Aunt Lizzy with little to show for their efforts. He’d always said he wasn’t looking for a derby horse, just a consistent stakes contender. So many risks taken—but never the farm.

  He’d lost so much. Even her mother, who deserted both of them before Cassie was two. Abigail O’Hanlon wanted more out of life than chasing dreams from one bush track to another. Apparently, her mother also wanted more than a chubby red-headed baby girl.

  Pressing a fist to her mouth, Cassie stared hard at the man with shocking white hair and skin as fragile as paper hunched awkwardly in his chair. She’d nearly lost him—but how much did she owe him? She bristled. “And now you want me to give up my life so you can have one more shot at your dream?”

  “I didn’t say give it up. Put your career on hold for a few months. That group home you slave at will always take you back.” Again, he coughed. “You got to go look at the horse, Cass. I tell you, she’s somethin’ exceptional. You look at her and you’ll know. She’s got class and desire. Work with her. If she don’t pan out, you can go back to your social work job and I’ll grow weeds from my rockin’ chair. I just got to know how good she really is. And the clock is ticking—hers and mine.”

  And what about my clock? Cassie wanted to scream at the shell of a man. She’d turned her back on horses nearly a decade before. Instead, she’d done college with Aunt Lizzy’s help, and then graduate school. Now she held a steady job as assistant director at an inner city group home—not lots of money, but far more predictable than horses.

  Damn horses, anyway! They were as cantankerous, beguiling and seductive as men. She’d done her best to swear off both.

  Her father played on her emotions like a skilled flutist.

  “I’ll go take a look at the filly.” Her voice faltered. Her shoulders sagged. “But I’m promising nothing.”

  “That’s okay. Just look at her. Maybe I’m slippin’.”

  Cassie saw the edge of a smile creep onto his lips but chose to ignore it. “Which paddock is she in?”

  “Second one on the east end of the barn.”

  “It won’t take long. Don’t get your hopes up. I’m just gonna look at your latest rainbow.” She hesitated. “You know, you could sell off just a little land and retire like a king. You’re sitting on a gold mine, being this close to Chicago.”

  Tug blinked. “I know, but I ain’t done yet. Now go look at Cassie’s Hope—she’s a real looker, has a lot of spunk, and gleamin’ chestnut hair. No wonder I named her after you.”

  Cassie picked her way through the familiar barn, reacquainting herself with
ancient smells. Until her dad’s stroke three weeks earlier, she’d made a weekly trek out from Chicago’s Northside to see him. Yet she’d adamantly refused to have anything to do with the horses. They were part of her past.

  Her dad could spin a web of intrigue and hope that would seduce a concrete statue to blink. Most people liked Tug. He was friendly, loyal, and could be counted on for a loan, even if he had nothing to lend.

  “Well, where is this damn horse?” she groused, striding briskly through the barn.

  “Ah,” she whispered as she reached the paddock. “So you’re the cheese in the trap he’s set.” The filly nickered softly and stepped forward to sniff her visitor. Cassie scratched the animal’s neck and the horse nodded.

  “Oh, you really are a lover, aren’t you? Damn, you’re a beauty. Straight legs, tall but compact, a good chest for lungs, and that indescribable fire in the eye. Yeah, you’ve got promise.”

  Cassie waved her arms, encouraging the filly to dash to the other end of the paddock.

  “Oh, my. You’ve got poetry, too,” she groaned, assessing the chestnut’s smooth gait. Don’t get hooked on his dream. “Okay, I don’t want to do this. But if I’m to be fair to Dad and you, I’m going to have to feel you under me.”

  After Cassie returned with a bridle, saddle blanket and saddle, Cassie’s Hope stood rock solid still for tacking up. Cassie led her charge out of the paddock to the small half mile track her dad maintained for training. Then she hefted herself into the saddle for the first time in years. She sat a little timid. The filly shied and skittered.

  “Okay, gal, so you’re not the pony that little girls dream about,” Cassie muttered, regaining her seat and control of the horse. “Now we’re not gonna do anything stupid. We’ll just trot a bit and then gallop out a half mile or so.”

  “Golly, you love this, don’t you? Your trot is as smooth as glass. Okay, let’s see how you like to run.”

  With hardly any encouragement, the filly tucked her chin to her chest and easily moved into a controlled gallop. After a half mile Cassie settled the filly back into a trot. “I’m sure you could go miles, but not me.”

  Back in the paddock area, Cassie brushed the chestnut, checked her hooves and let her cool down. “Damn it, Hope, I was wishing you’d be just another nag that Dad fell in love with—beautiful, but over-rated. Girl, you’re a lot of horse. You got your grand-daddy’s genes. Seattle Slew was a runner. Could you be it? Dad would be so thrilled.” Suddenly she could hardly see through her tears. “He’s lived his whole life for you, and now he can hardly lift a pitchfork.”

  “She’s a nice filly.” Cassie cast a cautious glance at her father, who hadn’t moved from his rocking chair during her absence. “A pleasure to ride. But a race horse—who knows?”

  “I know.” He paused. “And you know, too. You never were able to outfox your old man.”

  Letting out a sigh, Cassie sat on the arm of a chair opposite her father. “Yeah, she’s got a hell of a lot of potential. But you know better than I, there’s a lot of room between potential and being a bonafide stakes contender.”

  “Of course I know. That’s why I need you, Cass.” His hands balled into fists. “It’s why the filly needs you.”

  “You’ve got her nearly race ready. Why not just send her to another trainer? There must be a dozen who owe you favors and would be more than willing, especially now, to continue her training and get her started racing.”

  “No. No.” Tug’s voice rose. “I’ve gotta be part of it. If I send her away, I’m out of it. You and I, we can work together.” His voice became crisp and clear for the first time that afternoon. “Develop strategy. Pick the right spots for her. You can train the horse, but you’ll need help at track management, pick’n the races and so on.”

  Cassie stood and absently wiped some dust off one of her old riding trophies that sat on a display shelf. “Even if I wanted to do this,” she said, “and I’m not saying I do, I can’t just walk away from a paying job.”

  “They’ll hold it for you. You know that. And I’ve got six other horses who’ll be runnin’ and trainin’. Was trainin’ eight more, but their owners moved ‘em to other barns. Can’t say I blame ‘em much, but they coulda waited a little longer. You’d take in the trainer’s percentage on whatever we make.”

  “I don’t have a license,” she said, knowing that was no gigantic hurdle.

  “No problem, you’d be my assistant. Besides, you’ll pass the exam standin’ on your head.”

  “I’d have to live out here,” she mused. “Too far to commute daily. Maybe I could sublet my apartment for six months. That would help a lot.”

  “You’ll do it then?” His voice squeaked.

  Guilt, excitement and fear washed over her in such quick succession that Cassie couldn’t sort them out. Was she yielding? Hell, it’d been a done deal before she’d left Hope in her paddock. “Yes, I’ll try. Six months. No more. She is a very promising filly. I Still don’t know how we can afford to do this.”

  “We can afford it.” Tug’s eyes twinkled. “I got somethin’ else to tell you. Didn’t wanna till after you made up your mind. Didn’t wanna influence you too much…I’ve agreed to sell eighty acres to Mr. Dillingham, who’s been after that land for the last five years. After taxes and everybody’s fees, we should net a little over a million dollars.” Nodding softly, he said, “For once, I think we can afford to chase this dream.”

  “Holy shit!” Cassie shrieked. “You did what? Why now?”

  “There’s plenty of farm left for horses. Thought maybe I’ve been too stubborn for my own good. This may be my last chance, Cass. Holdin’ on to land is an important principle. But bein’ land poor probably don’t make much sense either. It’s yours, you know. I’m just gonna share some of it with you for awhile.”

  “Oh, Daddy.” She bent down and kissed him on the cheek. “I don’t know what to say! We could go out and buy contenders. Horses that could be competitive stakes runners right away.”

  “I know that.”

  She saw a quick flash of that familiar stubborn streak set deep in his cat-gray eyes.

  “Nope. The key is to raise a big horse—not just buy it. Any rich fool can buy into a good race horse. That’s what baseball owners do when they ignore their farm teams. It takes skill to raise a contender. Later, we might upgrade our broodmare stock.”

  “Broodmares! Now hold on.” Catching a glimpse of her father’s long range dream, Cassie stiffened. “Money or not, I’ve only signed on for six months. I’ve got a life. People depend on me.”

  - o -

  “You’re going to do what?” Dirk Johnson exclaimed, his jaw dropping.

  “Like I said, I’m taking a six month leave of absence to train some horses for my dad,” Cassie said. “I’ll be at our farm out in McHenry County.”

  Cassie doubted if the short dark-haired man had been out of the city twice in his life. Dirk worked in the financial district by day, but lived for the night: for opera, ballet, theater and fine restaurants. She’d met him when he was seeking help for a younger brother. They were friends. He might see that differently. But they were just friends. She’d been clear she wasn’t looking for an intimate relationship.

  “It’s…it’s just such a shock,” he said. “I can’t imagine you working with those huge beasts. And how can you be away from the city that long? You need to be where life pulsates, where things happen. My god…McHenry County?”

  Cassie flushed. “Not all of life takes place inside the city limits of Chicago. There’s no moat keeping me from going back and forth. You could even come out and visit.”

  “Fine for you to say, but the city is my life. I know where I’m going,” he said, peering with disdain. “I love it here.”

  “And I don’t?”

  “It doesn’t appear so. I thought you would tire of working with screwed up kids soon enough. That’s not surprising,” he hurried on. “But I hoped you would develop a nice lucrative private practice. Then
we could see what the future held for us. You’d be done playing around...but now?”

  “Playing around!” She spat the words out, then felt her cheeks burn, horrified that people at nearby tables were staring. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Has-It-All-Together,” she whispered, “I’ve not been playing around with those screwed up kids. And I have no desire for a lucrative private practice. I’m sorry I’ll never be worthy of you.”

  Briefly she hesitated. “Hell no! I’m not sorry at all.” Jumping up from her chair, she flung her napkin at him. “You can pay the bill, asshole. Goodbye and have a good life. Try not to choke on your fortune cookie.”

  Grabbing her own cookie, she stormed out of the restaurant without looking back. On the sidewalk, fighting back tears, she ground the cookie in the palm of her hand until she could read its contents: “Changes will lead to hope and romantic intrigue.” Right!

  Crumbling the paper, she flung it in the gutter. “You’re full of shit, too.”

  - o -

  Her three best friends sat in Cassie’s North Side apartment stunned, not knowing quite what to say after hearing her news.

  Traci Steele, the tall dark-haired lawyer, flashed her a smile and spoke first. “You can count on me, Cass. Let me know when you have a horse running and I’ll try to be there. Haven’t been to the track in ages. Should be lots of fun.”

  “Fun? Hanging out with gangsters? Taking money from the poor? No way I’ll go to a race track,” Susan Jackson declared adamantly. The tall blonde looked down her nose with shocked disapproval.