Yes! I was free, for as long as my conscience would allow me to be. I turned the bike down Lost Hills Road heading for some dirt bike tracks nearby. I wasn’t interested in tracking I needed to burn off excess frustration and energy. I needed to free my mind. Concentrating on speed and maneuvering over the jumps and through the washes took my mind away from the tensions of small messes and paying constant attention to a small child. One trail led to another trail. I wrestled the bike, purposely pushing myself. I wanted to find out what I was capable of close to home before I tried to see how far this bike would go. A few other people were out on the trails. I didn’t know anybody so I kept to myself.
I examined the arroyo ahead. It was thin and deep. The sand was loose. Would the bike handle sand this deep? When I’d rode dirt bikes as a teen we didn’t have deep sand and jumps. There were just rolling hills dotted by oak trees near my parents’ ranch. The main dangers were unexpected low-hanging branches of the large, ancient trees. Desert biking was different and, I decided, a lot more fun. I looked at it like a motorized obstacle course instead of a ride in the hills.
I picked out the challenging spots of the arroyo, deciding ahead of time how I would handle them. I hit the gas, the front wheel lifting off the ground. I wanted to attack the sand with some speed. In my Jeep a slow, constant crawl through sand worked best. The motorcycle was a lot different. I got a run at the sand planning to skim over the top and let the momentum carry me through. I hit the soft, dry section of the wash and the sand flew out behind me. A dust cloud rose over the arroyo.
A curve came up. It was less sandy but it was too sharp for me to take fast. Maybe later, after some experience. I slowed, gauging the turn. How fast could I take it? There was a sharp noise and the front wheel of the bike slid out from under me. The rest of the bike twisted around grinding my leg into the dirt. My first reaction was, oh shit, not again.
After the crash my instincts sent me diving for the shelter of the arroyo wall. I didn’t even think about my leg. Something in my brain knew that sound. Knew it was not a normal dirt biking sound. And when my thinking got that far I remembered in an instant what it was. I’d heard it thousands of times. Thousands of rounds fired in practice. It was the sound of a rifle shot.
As I sheltered in the bend in the arroyo I analyzed what had happened, the angle the wheel twisted, the way the bike fell. The shot had to come from my left from fairly close by. Damn. I was unarmed. I didn’t have my pack. No water. No wheels. I was glad I stuck close to home but it was still a few miles and I didn’t know what my present situation was. Was I dealing with some crazy person who had a grudge against dirt bikers? Or was this targeted specifically at me? Being a trouble magnet, I had to assume the person could still be after me. Where was he? Where was the person who shot my new bike? This was aggravating.
Forget the bike, Cass, there’s more important things going on right now, like finding the danger. I flattened myself against the arroyo wall, listening. I heard the crunch of footsteps on dry ground. Tiny rocks turning underfoot. A figure loomed above me. Dirk. I hadn’t seen him for a while, not since the mine exploded. He must be royally ticked.
It was his fault that the mine had exploded but he could easily blame me for his misfortune. After the dust had settled and I got some experts on scene to find him I had gone looking for a burglary suspect that I knew was in the area. I never knew what became of Dirk. Now I did. I was relieved to know he had made it, but I was a little worried about his state of mind. Did he really blame me for what happened? He was still a lousy shot. Well, he was a lousy shot if he was trying to shoot me. If he was really shooting at the bike tire he’d improved remarkably over the past few months.
“It’s payback time,” he said. There was a glint in his eyes that I didn’t like. His words didn’t scare me as much as his look. It was feral, like he’d slipped over the edge. His body seemed bent peculiarly. What had the explosion done to him? Buried him alive, I remembered.
I determined right at the start that he was not taking me. And he wasn’t shooting me either, although I didn’t yet know how I was going to stop him.
“Payback for what?” I asked.
“For all the pain, all the humility. You cost me. You and your meddling. You cost me everything and now it’s going to cost you. What are you willing to pay? Your health? Your family? How about your little boy?”
“The boy’s not mine. I’m just babysitting.”
“Yeah, right. How about your husband?”
“If you’ve got something against me. Take it out on me. Leave the others out of this.” I had to really think to not give Dirk any information. I tended to use names when I talked about people, and I tended to talk too much. I had to keep a careful rein on my words.
“The way to make you squirm…is to make you worry. Make you stew. Like I stewed under a ton of mud. Suffocating. Thinking I’d never get out alive.”
“I looked for you. I called in the team who found you. I didn’t have to do that. If I hadn’t called them you’d be dead and only Shay would have known where you were. Shay couldn’t get the help for you that I could.”
“Damn it!” he yelled and fired haphazardly. He was on the edge. He was slipping. “Shay left me. When the going got tough, she split. She left me for dead and never looked back!” Another shot into the bank next to my head. Dirt and rocks peppered me. “You fucked up my life!” He took two faltering steps towards the edge of the arroyo. “You fucked up my job!” Bam! “You fucked up my health!” Bam! “You ruined me!” Bam!
All the time the bullets were flying I stayed small. I let him rant. He couldn’t shoot as emotional as he was. He was just blowing off steam and though I got my share of near misses and flying rocks I finally heard the click of an empty chamber and ran hell bent for better cover. At first he just stood there, not believing I was just turning my back on him, then that angered him, too. He got on his dirt bike and charged after me. He ran me down, the hit sending me careening into the dirt bank. He sped past, a yellow blur. I climbed up out of the arroyo where I had more room to maneuver and took off running until I found a group of Joshua trees. I put a tree between him and me and stood statue still except for my heavy breathing.
Okay, Cass, you have breathing room. Think. Put yourself in stealth mode and head for home.
Cover was sparse. Hiding my footprints was tough but came naturally to me. Slowly I made my way across the desert, only moving forward when I knew Dirk was not watching. Away in the distance I could hear the buzz of his dirt bike as he rode back and forth looking for me. Then faintly, “Damn you Cassidy Michaels! This isn’t the end. You’ll be hearing from me again! You’ll pay! You’ll pay like I had to!”
Why do people always blame me?
I ran home when I was sure Dirk had given up. I ran almost blindly, just trying to get there. When I came to Lost Hills Road I stumbled out onto it, heard a screech of brakes and dove for the other side. I couldn’t believe how rattled Dirk had made me. I was ashamed of it, so ashamed I didn’t bother looking at the driver of the car. I scrambled up and kept running.
The house lights were on by the time I got home. It looked so peaceful I didn’t want to interrupt the tranquility of it. A car pulled up. Antonio. He got out and rushed over to me.
“Cassidy! Are you okay? What are you doing out here?” He looked me up and down, saw the scratches from the flying gravel, the blood stained leg of my jeans, the haggard expression. “What the hell happened to you?”
I couldn’t talk. Everything was a jumble. I was still in flight mode.
“Come on,” I finally managed to say and headed for the house. I entered the house and let Antonio in, then locked the door behind us. I went to the back door and locked it too. I checked all the windows, the door to the garage.
“Cassidy, slow down, kid,” Antonio said.
Rusty came in holding Ricky. He looked so content just having a little one in his arms. It started the old conflict in me and along with the new one they ganged up on me.
“I didn’t hear the bike,” Rusty said.
“Hang on,” Antonio interrupted. “Something happened. Cassidy, what were you running from?”
This drew a startled look from Rusty.
Looking at Rusty he said, “I nearly ran her over when she ran out of the desert. No bike. She was on foot running for her life. What was it?”
I still couldn’t bring myself to talk. I hated this. Bringing trouble down onto Rusty like this. I could deal with it on my own. But I couldn’t take the hurt it caused Rusty. The scratches, the bloodied leg. I could deal with that. Dirk I’d deal with as things came up but every encounter, every scratch, every bruise, hurt Rusty, too, and all the fear and running turned into sadness.
“Where are your first aid supplies?” Antonio asked.
“Bathroom medicine cabinet,” Rusty replied. He set Ricky down and he toddled off down the hall looking for his dada.
Rusty started with questions he knew I could deal with.
“Where’s the bike?”
“In the desert.”
“Did you crash it?”
“No.”
“Did it break down?”
“No,” I gulped. “The tire was shot out.”
He paused.
“Chance shot?”
“No.”
Antonio returned with a bunch of minor first aid supplies.
“Cassidy, this isn’t going to do it,” he said. “Will you go to town?”
“No, it’s just scratches.”
“The leg is not just scratches.”
“I ran a couple of miles on it. It’ll be fine.”
“If you ran a couple of miles on it you probably made it worse.”
Ricky was happy with his dad there. He ran around talking baby talk. Shadow made the rounds between me and Ricky. Ricky squealed with delight and toddled off after Shadow calling, “Goggy! Come goggy! Me wan goggy!”
“What do you mean it wasn’t a chance shot?”
“It just wasn’t.”
“How can you know?”
“I talked to the guy.”
A quick pause. “You know who it was?”
“Yeah. I know who it was enough to pull his record.”
“Who was it?”
“Dirk.”
“Who’s Dirk?”
And then I remembered. Rusty didn’t know who Dirk was. Schroeder knew. Chase knew. But Rusty didn’t. Aw hell.
“Do you remember when I called to tell you about the mine explosion? Dirk caused it. He fired at me and the shot went down the tunnel and set off some old dynamite. The hill blew. Dirk got buried in the explosion. I searched for him until Carla arrived with a dog and backup. I didn’t know what happened to Dirk after the mine explosion. You’ll have to ask Schroeder that. But I do know it was Dirk. I recognized him and talked to him. I know it was him, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”
“How dangerous is he?”
Very.
“He wants revenge.”
“How dangerous is he?”
“I’m going to change out of these clothes before they become permanently attached to me.”
“Cass, how dangerous is he?”
“He’s a lousy shot.”
“Cassidy…”
He’s like Teague Stern with a motive, I thought, fighting the fear again. Teague Stern was cruel. He’d nearly killed me.
“Very,” I finally said. “Be careful. Find out from Schroeder what he looks like so you won’t be surprised by him. Stay armed. If I need to take care of Ricky tomorrow I should do it someplace else. Dirk knows where to find me here.”
“Don’t worry about Ricky,” Antonio said. “You’ve got enough to deal with. You’re right about the jeans though. You better go change or you’ll take your skin off, too.”
The jeans were worthless by the time I cut them up enough to get them off. I had to leave little threads embedded in the scabs. My knee was ground raw from being pinned under the twisting bike. My elbow was next. I should have worn the leather jacket but I was in a hurry. I needed space and I’d needed it fast. Antonio doctored the scrapes as much as he could. He picked out little rocks and brushed away the sand that would fall off. He cleaned and disinfected and tried to bandage it but I stopped him.
“The bandages will just stick. It’ll be okay.”
Ricky stood watching. He touched a scrape. “Owie,” he said. He reached up to be held so I pulled him into my lap. “Kiss better,” Ricky said and planted a slobbery wet baby kiss on my arm.
Antonio continued to work on my knee. He didn’t find any broken bones but he wasn’t satisfied with the way things looked either. He felt around. Bent the knee. Felt some more. Pulled out a small rock.
“This is going to give you fits unless you see a doctor and get better care for it. If you let it dry out straight it will break open when you bend and if you let it dry out bent it will crack when you straighten it. The area’s too big for this home first aid kit business. Look, I keep finding more rocks. You need to go where they know how to locate them. You don’t want to heal up with rocks imbedded in your knee.” He knew me. He knew I wouldn’t go to town. He knew I wouldn’t see a doctor.
“I’ve had worse. It’ll be fine,” I assured him.
We had a short stare down.
“You’re more stubborn than you are smart, you know that.”
“Yeah, I know that.”
“Have you ever had your IQ tested?” he snapped.
“Sort of.”
“How do you ‘sort of’ have your IQ tested?”
“When I was in boot camp a group of us decided we had to be either really smart or really stupid to get ourselves into the Marines. So Denisha Williams downloaded an IQ test off the Internet and we all took it. It was awful. It took me an hour of looking cross-eyed at the screen, trying to figure out which shape was different, do mathematical problems, figure out word puzzles. Unfortunately a lot of it was pattern recognition and that’s what I’m good at so I came out looking like a genius. I was glad it wasn’t an official test.”
“What did you score?”
“I’m not telling.”
“Why?”
“Because being smart isn’t a good thing sometimes.”
“If there was a Mensa group for stubborn people you’d qualify.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“So what did you score?”
“Thanks for tending my knee. What are you going to do with Ricky?”
“What are you going to do about your new stalker buddy?”
“I’m going to be armed. I’m going to go track down my bike. And then I’m going to go talk to Schroeder and find out what happened.”
“I’ll take Ricky with me. Maybe they will let me take him in to see his mom.”
Rusty appeared in the doorway again. He looked grim.
As Antonio placed Ricky in his car seat and prepared to take him home, Rusty gave a sigh of resignation.
“I’m sorry, Rusty. You would have kept him as long as you could. And I would have watched him in town if Antonio needed me to. But Dirk threatened him, thinking he was mine. I wouldn’t keep Ricky here. He’d be in more danger than me.”
Ricky waved at us, palm out, fist opening and closing. A baby wave. I sighed, too. Okay, I admitted, I’d rather have a hundred baby messes a day than the mess I was in now. At least a baby only loved you more at the end of the day.
I knew Rusty was feeling stressed when he led me to the old brown couch. He pulled me into his lap and pulled me close. How could I do this to him? I’d warned him before we married, I was a trouble magnet and there was nothing I could do about it. And he assured me I wasn’t trouble to him. But we’d seen trouble and then we’d seen more trouble and in rare times we’d seen wonderful peace. Peace we could luxuriate in. But it never lasted.
We sat that way for a long time. Usually our couch time either strayed into touching or talking. Rusty was too worked up to go the touching route.
“Dirk is FTA.”
“So he’s on the run and he’s not going to be tracked down at home in his easy chair.”
“I’ll find him.”
“No! You can’t do that.”
“I can.”
“He won’t hesitate to shoot you. He wants to hurt me. He threatened you and he threatened Ricky. I told him, if he had something against me, to take it out on me, but I don’t know if he will. I’m sure not going to count on it.”
“Babe…” There was a long emotional pause. “Don’t take this guy on. Please. If he comes after you consider it a life or death matter. Shoot him. Before he can get a hand on you.”
“I saved his life and now you want me to shoot him?”
“Schroeder thinks the guy’s unbalanced. He wasn’t sure he could stand up in court. He’s twisted somehow. If he gets his hands on you…you don’t know the things he can do in the state of mind he’s in.”
“I know enough.”
“So you will defend yourself?”
I was a Marine. They taught us well how to kill a man. I’d been through sniper school. They could teach me how to kill. Efficiently. I could shoot Dirk and kill him with one shot, on the run. I had the know-how, the skill. You can teach a person to kill, but you can’t make them pull the trigger. And I always had trouble with that last little detail because I’m an optimist. I know there are other ways, nonlethal ways, to get away. They might be painful but it was usually a physical pain. I could deal with the physical pain easier than the mental pain of taking a life. I’d killed before. I still had nightmares about it. It was when instinct took over. When it was the only option. Even when it was the only option it hurt. It hurt for years. It would never go away. I didn’t know if I could do it again.
“I’ll defend myself,” I assured Rusty. But I won’t kill him, I thought.
“And I’ll find him. Before you have to.”
“Schroeder won’t give you the case.”
“Schroeder won’t know. This is personal.”
We were at an impasse. I couldn’t stop Rusty from looking and he couldn’t make me shoot Dirk.
The next morning I donned jeans feeling the material scrape against the scabs with every movement. The initial pain was over. Antonio was right. When I straightened my leg first thing in the morning a long crack formed in the scab and started the wound to bleeding again. I winced, cleaned up the blood, then went about my routine. I showered paying particular attention to the wound on the side of my knee. I dressed in jeans, bullet proof vest, camping shirt, hiking boots and 9mm.
“Where are you going?” Rusty asked.
“I’m going to retrieve my bike. I’ll have to track myself back because I don’t remember exactly where it is. I’m ashamed to admit the tracking will be easy. There was only about a half mile where I worried about my tracks.”
“You’re not going alone.”
“You need to get to work.”
“I’ll make you a deal. Take me with you and I’ll take the bike to town and get a new tire for it.”
“You’d do that anyway.”
“Don’t take me with you and I’ll toss you over my shoulder right here and now and take you to town with me. How are you going to get it out?”
“I was going to push it. I bought a 250 so I could handle it. Now I get to find out if I made a good choice.”
Unfortunately, I was right, the tracking was easy. I was glad Rusty couldn’t read the desperation in my tracks. Chase would have had a hard time with this trail. Not because of the difficulty but because he knew me too well. He’d know exactly what was in my head. I was tempted to erase the trail as I went just to erase the feelings it brought to mind.
The motorcycle lay where I had left it. Rusty climbed the arroyo and scoped out Dirk’s perspective. I saw him analyzing the scene as he imagined it.
“He stood right here and he still missed?” he asked.
“I told you. He’s a lousy shot. He was a lousy shot at the mine and he’s still a lousy shot. Let’s hope if he really wants to kill me he’ll try to shoot me.”
The joke was lost on Rusty. He took out a camera and began photographing the scene. He took a picture of the tire where the bullet entered cleanly and where the bullet left a gaping, ragged hole. He handed me rubber gloves.
I walked over to the bike but the ground caught my attention.
“Rusty, wait. Don’t go closer.”
I circled the bike, reading the ground. Dirk had approached the bike, knelt down. I looked closer at the motorcycle. Nothing seemed unusual to me but something didn’t quite feel right. Last I remembered Dirk he was patrolling the desert looking for me. Why would he return to the bike?
“Dirk was here. At the bike. But I don’t know why. Why would he care about the motorcycle?”
“Was it running when you left it?”
“Yeah, I didn’t have time to shut it off.”
“But it’s off now.”
“Why would Dirk care enough to turn off my motorcycle?”
I let Rusty finish taking pictures, then I turned the bike over. I took the barrel of my pistol and used it to push the ends back into the hole to make the tire roll better. Rusty cringed. This wasn’t a use for a firearm that he approved of. I pushed the bike down the arroyo towards home.
“Cass, wait,” Rusty said, hurrying after me. He lifted the motorcycle and put it up on the hard pack where it would roll easier. “Help me find the slugs.”
Mentally I put myself where I was when Dirk had shot at me, let the flashback loose, heard them hit around me and the search was on. Eventually, we found three.
It was a long, slow, quiet walk back. I pushed the bike, my knee nagging at me with every step. Rusty knew I had to feel like I did my share but after a while he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Cass, stop, please, let me help.”
“It’s my bike and my bout of trouble. I’ll do it.”
“I’m telling you to stop. Babe, you don’t have to do it all on your own.”
I sighed with resignation. I was used to getting through trouble bouts. In a way it helped me deal with them. While I had my bike and I was pushing it home I was pushing Dirk into the background. If I stopped my thoughts would have free reign and I didn’t know where they would take me. But I knew Rusty needed to help so I handed over the bike to him. I had struggled the whole way, but he pushed it easily. It irked me. I knew he was a lot bigger than me so the bike would naturally be easier for him to push, but it still irked me.
When we got home he loaded the motorcycle into the back of his Explorer and got ready for work. I stewed. I’d be stuck at home. Alone. No wheels. Nothing much to do. Just me and my thoughts. I’d go nuts.
“Can I go to town with you?” I asked when he was ready.
“Sure, what are you going to do there all day?”
“I don’t know. If you don’t need the Explorer I’ll go to the gym, practice at the firing range, talk to Schroeder.”
“I don’t recommend talking to Schroeder. I already did. You won’t like what he has to say about this Dirk character.”
“Maybe I’ll go chase down a purse snatcher at the mall.” Seems like every time I go to the mall something happens there. Banks get robbed. Purse snatchers suddenly get itchy fingers.
“Are you afraid to stay home?”
“Me? Scared? No, not exactly. I just don’t want to be left alone with my thoughts. I need something to occupy my mind. But I’m not really scared. If anything I’d be more afraid of having to hurt Dirk than scared for my safety. I could take the bike in to be fixed.”
“Not until it’s been looked over at the station. When they release it I’ll take it to be fixed. Keep your cell phone on. If I need the truck I’ll give you a call.”
“Okay,” I said with a hug and a kiss.
In town I wandered around town doing random errands. I didn’t get into town as much as I used to. I went when the cupboards were bare or when I got a search call, but in general it just seemed too far away to go for no reason. I got my hair trimmed. I went to the post office. I ate lunch. I was at the pet store buying a thirty-pound bag of dog food when my cell phone rang.
“Cass, are you okay?” Rusty said.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Hold on.” I dumped the bag of food at my feet so I wouldn’t have to talk under a thirty-pound load.
“What was that?” he asked.
“Dog food. What’s up?”
“Are you sure you’re not being followed?”
“Pretty sure, why?” I looked around for any suspicious characters. No one ducked for cover when I did my quick scan. I didn’t see Dirk.
“Can you come to the station?”
“Sure. Why?”
“I just need you to come to the station.”
I found Rusty in the one spot I didn’t want to find him. At the punching bag. Usually I was the one who took out my frustrations on the punching bag. Anywhere else I’d know things were in control and he was just doing his job. Not here. He’d learned something and it wasn’t good. When I walked in all the other guys quietly disappeared.
“I’m sorry, babe, I’m losing it. I just had to see you. I keep playing this what-if scenario in my head and…I just couldn’t take it anymore.”
“That’s okay. I don’t mind coming. What happened?”
“I know why the bike was turned off when we found it. It wasn’t because Dirk wanted to conserve your gas.”
After a bone crushing hug he led me to another part of the station. A part I had never seen before.
“Don’t touch it,” he admonished needlessly as we approached the motorcycle. “What do you see?”
It took some searching. My bike looked sad, like it was in the hospital or something, even though I couldn’t see anything wrong with it other than the blown out tire. It had to be something subtle. Something Dirk had done. Something dangerous. Very cleverly hidden. Rusty pointed it out to me, a single wire leading from the starter of the bike to a tiny hole in the gas tank. A hole just big enough to snuggly fit one wire. One twist of the key and…
“I keep picturing you picking up the bike from the Kawasaki place, hopping on happily, turning the key, pushing the button… and it could have so easily happened that way. I could have gone to work thinking it was a normal day. Not knowing in a half second it would be over. Not knowing until word came back to the station, through Schroeder…And I just needed to see you.” He ran his hands through his hair and it fell back down just like it always did. He took me by the hand and we went to the Explorer. I got in and he drove… and drove. I waited patiently. I knew when he had worked through what was in his head he’d go back to the station.
He didn’t go back to the station. He drove forever. He got on the freeway that led to the L.A. basin, then got off and drove around in the mountains, wandered down into Santa Clarita. Eventually he pulled into a parking lot all the way down in Ventura. He was nearly out of gas but he wasn’t out of worry so we walked. The beach seemed to call to Rusty just like the mountains called to me. I dragged him down to the water. He was in his suit and I was in jeans so we weren’t exactly dressed for the beach. I rolled up my jeans and waded. I knew what he needed. When he felt like this, he needed to see me be happy and healthy. I had to let him think it could stay that way. I waded. I ran down the water’s edge. I let the tracks distract me.
“Tell me about it,” he said.
“You hate when I read the sand at the beach.”
“Read it to me.”
“Okay, these footprints were made by a man, smaller than you, thin. He was carrying stuff. Maybe he was going to fish in the surf. See? The handle of the poll hit here. He’s got a long gangly gait. I kind of picture Ichabod Crane on a fishing trip.”
“Find another one.”
We shifted positions on the beach.
“Here’s a young woman she’s out for a jog. No, she’s meeting someone. See? Here’s another set of tracks. The other set is a guy. They walk down the beach bumping hips together. They know each other. They are comfortable together.”
A group of teens appeared ahead. Rock music blared from a boom box. Some of them were playing volleyball. A couple of kids were boogie boarding. The tracks joined the group.
“Which ones are they?” he asked.
“They’re all about the same size. I’d have to watch them for a while. The guy has a longer stride than the girl so maybe the guy is the one in blue Hawaiian print trunks. Then the girl is probably the one he is most familiar with. The girl in the red bikini top and cutoffs has her eye on him. Maybe it’s them.”
“I wish I’d known you when you were that age.”
“No you don’t,” I answered. “I was too hard. I needed breaking. I wouldn’t have been the one playing volleyball or boogie boarding. I’d have to pick the hardest thing to do. I’d swim around the pier. I’d run the beach. I wouldn’t have sat around listening to music and chatting. That was Jesse. I was off pushing myself.”
“Why?”
“I was expected to live up to Steve’s example.”
Steve worked for my dad. He was perhaps my best friend while I was growing up but he wasn’t an easy man. He was rough, tough and hard to bluff and believe me I tried to bluff him many times. He had a heart for kids. He watched over me on the ranch, taught me to ride, and got me out of trouble more times than I could count. But he was an awfully hard man for me to emulate. He could tame a horse. He downed a buck with one shot every hunting season until my dad let me try. He could rope and tie a calf in ten seconds and I always took at least twice that time. And he could flank the big calves while I had to leg over the little ones. So I pushed and hardened myself so one day I would be ready for Steve’s job. I was expected to take over the ranch someday. I had to be tough. I got too tough for my own good.
“Your dad didn’t know what a treasure he had.”
“He didn’t want kids. He wanted me to grow up, so he wouldn’t have to raise me.”
“Is that why you don’t want kids?”
“No! Rusty no! And it’s not that I don’t want kids.”
“I’m sorry I pushed Ricky onto you.”
“I’m not.” And it was true, looking back. I was glad I had that short time with Ricky.
Rusty looked at me hopefully.
I stopped walking and turned to face him so he’d know I was serious. “It was frustrating. I still don’t think I could do that full time. Ricky showed me I’m still too hard to be a mom. But I’m getting closer. Have patience. I’m trying. I’m really trying…okay?”
Little laugh lines appeared around his eyes. I’d given him hope. I pulled him back towards the pier.
“Where are we going?”
“We’re too dressed up to have fun. Let’s go get some beachwear. The salt water will be good for my knee.”
He allowed himself to be pulled along, his mood lightening a little as we went. When we were outfitted in swimsuits we headed for the water again.
“I wish I’d brought my surfboard, but I didn’t know we’d end up here.”
“Are you still determined to learn how to surf?”
“I’m not determined. I just think it never hurts to have options wherever I go. It can’t hurt to know how to surf and it might turn out to be fun.”
“I think you’re mistaken. Look at you, you’re just like a kid. Babe, you’re not as hard as you think. You’re tougher than most but there’s a heart in there, a joy that hard people don’t have. Believe me, I see a lot of hard people. You’re not one of them.”
“The joy wasn’t there until I met you. Remember when I was supposed to meet you in town? You wanted me to meet Lou and I got stuck up in the mountains. You drove up to retrieved me. Since it was too late to make the appointment with Lou you asked me to dinner. You asked me to wear a dress. You didn’t know how much you were asking when you did that. I gave you a good scolding as I struggled with the dress, with the idea of getting all made up, and I felt so awkward.”
The little laugh lines appeared again.
“I’m sorry…”
“I’m not. I needed it. You always know what I need even when I don’t. I need you to push me in directions I’d never think to go on my own. I don’t think you stuck with me to change me, but you have. I’m not the same person you met when you were looking for Silva, and I’m glad. I don’t want to be that person anymore. And I want to keep changing. I want to be happy as a mom. Right now that wouldn’t happen. But maybe someday it will.”
“How did you have fun as a teenager?”
“Fun? I guess the closest to fun I had was the tension of competition when I was barrel racing. It was the concentration of stalking a deer, seeing how close I could get. But fun? Deep down fun? It wasn’t really part of me. I felt at peace when I was out tracking, or riding. But fun? I wouldn’t call it fun.”
“When we were on our honeymoon you said the survival part was fun.”
“Because I was with you. Come on. I’m with you now, so I can have fun.” I stepped into the ocean. It was cold but I kept wading until the water was waist deep and the swells reached up to my shoulders. I loved the ocean as much as Rusty did. It was freeing. The mountains were good and solid but the water and ocean breezes lifted my spirits. The mountains took concentration. The ocean freed my mind. I could forget things at the ocean.
It was a rare lull. Play time. A time when we just enjoyed each other. We laughed a lot, swam a lot, walked the beach until we found an ice cream stand. We ate ice cream for dinner not caring if it was bad for us or not. I had fudge brownie and Rusty had black cherry.
“I needed this,” said Rusty. “I don’t want to go back. I want to rent a boat and go sailing off to explore the Channel Islands and visit Catalina. I want to take you far away and live every day like this afternoon.”
We were sitting on a low wall overlooking the ocean. The sun was setting over the ocean setting the sky afire. We were still barefoot, in nothing but swimsuits. He straddled the wall and I sat in front of him leaning against his chest, feet stretched out before me. He kept dripping ice cream on me. A big glob of chocolate dripped off my cone.
“Mmm, fudge brownie with cherries on top. Can I lick it off?” he asked.
“Not until we get home.”
“Can I drip in some interesting places?”
“Not until we get home.”
“Oops,” he said as a drop fell down the front of my swimsuit.
I hopped off the wall and climbed back on facing him. I wrapped my arms around his neck, and drew him down into a kiss.
“Oops,” he said again with a mischievous look. He wiped the drip off my chest with his finger and licked it off.
“Maybe we should head for home. You can drip whatever you want on me there.”
We went to the truck and I started pulling on my jeans over my swimsuit.
“Do you have to?” he asked.
“Depends on where we’re stopping.”
“Just for gas. You can wait in the truck.”
I threw the jeans back in the truck and settled into the front seat. He pulled his work shirt on, left the top three buttons undone and rolled the sleeves up.
The house was dark when we got home. Shadow thought he’d been forgotten. I quickly fed him and let him out. Necessities out of the way, Rusty scooped me up.
“You’ve been driving me crazy all afternoon.”
“So you like this swim suit?”
“You is what I like. Now where are those drips?”
“They are exactly where you wanted them to be.”
“I wish.”
He found the drips plus a whole lot more. How did I live without this man so long? How could I stand it alone when he was out there? I didn’t know but I was so grateful he’d knocked on my door that day. And I was so thankful he’d stuck with me. And for just a little while I was able to forget Dirk was out there, and Rusty could feel me be alive beneath him.
A few hours later I woke to a dim house and sleepy husband. It couldn’t get better than this afternoon. Oh god, it was good. When the minutes counted we tended to treasure them, make them rich and valuable to us. I turned to Rusty and snuggled close stretching the minutes. It brought back flashbacks of what life was like without him. The sorrow. The loneliness that drove me running for the mountains. The days of hunger doing survival trips into the mountains. The hunger battling it out with the sorrow of losing my first husband. Why did I put myself through all that when Rusty was out there? Because life was hard. I answered myself. You were hard. It was all you knew. So it’s what you did. I couldn’t believe it myself and I’d lived through it. Days of living off the land. I learned volumes. I could now survive in almost any environment. But it was so hard. I was lucky to have lived through it. I was never far from the Jeep but hunger haunted me and sorrow kept me running. Rusty rescued me from all that without really knowing it. Stop it, Cass, you’re going to start crying and then Rusty’s going to worry about you and…and it was too late. Rusty was too quiet beside me. He was awake, feeling the wheels turning in my brain. I snuggled closer.
“Thank you for today,” I said.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I was just contrasting the present to the past. Thank you… for my present. It’s so much richer than my past. I don’t know how I survived it, but I can take joy in today. As long as you are here.”
He pulled me close and I was at peace again. He was very still which meant he was checking his emotions. I felt treasured like that. Him holding me close. Guarding me. I slipped into a quiet, contented sleep, safe. For now I was safe. No sorrow. No fear. Just blissful peace and rest. We slept like that for a long time.