At first I was too full of pent up emotions to be scared. I looked out the car window as Cody raced down the street. Patrick ran out, then went up to the Explorer and wrote something in the dust on the vehicle’s side. The car turned the corner and the men bound my wrists together, then tied a gag around my head.
What in the world was going on? I forced myself to think. Part of me refused to believe this was happening. It was Christmas Day. What were these kids doing out on Christmas Day? Watching the street, obviously. But why? I had thought they were looking for a house that was an easy victim for a burglary. But that was obviously not the case. Why would they be watching the Michaels’ house? Because of the connection with the police? Then why take me? Because of Shawn the Shark? Oh, shit. Maybe it was because of Shawn the Shark. It was the only connection I could come up with.
I looked at the faces of my captors and memorized their features in case I had a chance to identify them later. They appeared to be young. They were tough. They were the forgotten. That’s why they were out on Christmas Day. They didn’t have families close enough to keep them home even on Christmas. They had each other and too many ways to get into trouble.
I yanked the gag off, partly because it was bugging me and partly because I wanted to see their reaction.
“Hey, you get that thing back on,” the boy sitting on my feet said. He moved to tie it back on and I got a foot loose. I kicked him against the car door. The car rocked.
“Woohoo! We got us a live one! Can we have some fun with her? What do you think?” he said turning to me. “We gonna have some fun wit’ you?”
“Not if you value your life,” I replied.
“Ooo, I’m scared,” he said mocking me, waving around a long, black pistol.
“Dang it, Butcher, if you want them to keep that rag in you gotta tie their hands behind them.”
“Where are you taking me?” I demanded to know.
“Where the Shark should have taken you in the first place,” the driver answered. “Soon’s he found out you were a narc he should’a brought you to us. We’d’a fixed you up right then.”
“I’m not a narc. I’m a tracker visiting family in San Diego for Christmas. I don’t know anything about narcotics. I don’t know anything about your little ring. The more you do to me the more I’m learning. If I know anything about it at all it’s because of you. So don’t go blaming me or Shawn. Shawn didn’t tell me anything.”
“So you admit you’re the narc Shawn picked up?”
Dang it. “I told you I’m not a narc. You guys have it all wrong.”
“Well, it don’t matter now. We got you. We’re gonna have some fun with you, long as we got you.”
I turned my thoughts to getting out of this dilemma and what I could expect from the police. I was pretty sure Patrick had written down the license plate number on the Explorer. I wasn’t sure why he’d thought to do that, but I was very grateful. What a kid, a thinker, that’s for sure. He didn’t freak out; he thought about what to do and did it. I looked out the window. The driver turned out of the neighborhood, with a screeching of tires, and the landscape changed to a busy commercial street. The driver expected to be followed. His eyes kept flicking to his rearview mirrors.
“Tell me again, where we’re going,” I demanded. I needed some clues. Any tiny facts I could pull from my captors might help. If I got away I wanted to know where I was, and what I might be dealing with.
“To town, just like the Shark told you. You wanted a fix? We’re gonna fix you. We’re gonna fix you good.”
“That sounds like a waste of good drugs to me. Seems like you could line your pockets a little, save the drugs and just shoot me.”
“We might do that, too.”
“If I have a choice between being shot and being shot. I’d rather be shot.”
“Huh?”
“With guns.”
“I’ll keep that in mind, chicken. You taking the chicken way out.”
No, I thought, I’m keeping my mind straight right up until the end. If my mind was sharp I could watch for breaks.
“We’re going downtown?” I asked. “Aren’t there an awful lot of people downtown?”
“Not today, plus this part of downtown is used to a bit of action. A few shots won’t mean much to them. Bet we can even recruit a little help if we need it.”
“I like the lighting effects. Little fog, eerie lights, good place to die.”
“We kinda like it.”
They pulled into a back alley and the eerie light faded. I counted the backs of the buildings so I’d know how far away my freedom was. Graffiti adorned the brick walls. Some had been painted over by local merchants while other tags were more recent. I tried to memorize the letters I saw. Any clues were useful. They stopped the car and yanked me out.
“347 dim alley,” I quipped, reading the number off the back of the building.
“Yeah, a dim alley leading to nowhere for you. What’s your name?” the driver asked.
“Cassidy,” I answered, determined to see if they’d use the information against me later. It didn’t take them long.
“Cassidy, as in Butch Cassidy?”
“You got it, exactly. My dad likes the old west.”
He busted out laughing. “Hey, Butcher, you lucked out. I think you ought to get first shot at miss narc bitch here.”
I could see why they called him Butcher. He actually looked like he’d butchered a few. A few what I didn’t want to try and guess. Butcher closed in and I backed off. Two men moved in behind me. I stopped.
I heard sirens in the background and wondered if they were off on some other case or actually looking for me. But that was dumb. They had no way of knowing where I was.
Butcher grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a building. He unlocked a deadbolt and shoved me into the rear of the building. I found myself in the back room of a business. I was surrounded by three men and another three entered the room behind us. One of the guys was Shawn the Shark, but he wasn’t looking much like a predator at the moment. He was looking apologetic.
“Okay, Shark, now I want you to see exactly what we do to narcs around here. Even little baby narcs. Narcs… don’t… live. Got it? Butcher? Choose your weapon.”
“She said she didn’t want to get shot. She don’ say nuthin’ ‘bout pills or sniffin’”
“You can’t make me!” I said, backing away. As soon as the men closed in I stopped. I didn’t want them to touch me. So far they seemed rather clueless, and I wanted them to stay that way.
“Then it’s a shot. You said you wanted to be shot if you had a choice.”
“You know what I meant!” I said, getting even more worried.
“Butcher, no!” Shawn called out. “She’s never done drugs. You’ll kill her with that. I thought you wanted to have some fun with her.”
“Then, just a little bit. That’ll make her less fun but more cooperative.”
He started filling a needle and I nearly panicked. I kicked the needle and bottle out of his hand. The sirens grew closer. Their eyes flicked back and forth like a half dozen Felix the Cat clocks.
“I don’t like this. How do the cops know? We need to do her in and get out of here.”
Flashing lights went by the front windows of the business. The men all ducked for cover even though little could be seen through the single door leading out to the main room. Butcher grabbed the needle off the floor, jabbed it into my leg and pushed the plunger on it, then he pushed me to the back alley. All the men looked uneasy as a black and white cruised by the end of the alley.
I could feel the drugs seep through my system. Focus, Cassidy, stay focused. Your life depends on it.
“I say, just do her. We gotta get out of here.”
I could feel ice creeping up my leg. I didn’t know what they shot me with, but it felt like ice and I could feel my will slipping away. Out in the alley they lined up. Four had guns. They took careful aim.
The driver of the black car looked at Shawn. “Narcs don’t live. Got it?”
“No!” Shawn yelled.
“Narcs… don’t… live!” Butcher shouted at Shawn. He swung his weapon in Shawn’s direction, but there wasn’t anything that he could do. Shawn couldn’t take on four guys and he knew it. The weapon swung in my direction again.
It was all I could do to not hit the ground. I knew to move meant death. Point blank range. Forty-fives. They couldn’t miss. I was counting on them not to miss. I needed them to hit where they were aiming.
Go for the heart.
A sharp explosion, blast that shook me to the core, then all went dark.
“Cassidy! Please, please, babe, breathe, breathe! You can’t do this to me.”
Frantic rubbing. Jostling. Rusty. I was breathing again but he was in such a panic that he didn’t see it. When I tried to move he finally stopped. A few seconds of tense waiting and then he realized that I was breathing and gathered me up in his arms. I felt his face next to my neck. The quick ragged breaths of fear.
Something was important. Something I had to tell him. What was it? The drugs.
“Rus…”
“Shh, babe, just relax. It’ll clear soon.”
“No, they shot me.”
“I know, babe, it’ll be okay soon. Four shots are going to leave quite a bruise.”
“No, they shot me… with drugs. Bottle on floor inside.”
His movements stopped. His relief crumbled. “What is it?”
“Don’ know, don’ know how much. Icy, felt icy. Don’ go.”
“I have to, babe, we have to know what that stuff was.”
I didn’t know what was happening to me, but I was scared. If Rusty left, I felt like everything would fall on me. I’d die. Part of me said it was a bad reaction to the drugs. Part of me was scared to death. I tried to get up, but the alley tilted and I fell. I couldn’t stay here! Had to get out! I staggered for the end of the alley. I’d counted the buildings. How many were there? I stumbled out of the alley and into the street. I heard running feet. They were after me! I tried to run but my coordination was gone. Men surrounded me again. No!
“No, Rusty… please come back.” I couldn’t catch my breath. All I knew was that men were going to kill me. Then the drugs took me completely and I fell.
My mind wandered down dark alleys. People were after me. I ran in my dreams. I hid in alleyways. Shots. Must get away. Over and over again. Can’t let them catch me. Have to run. I relived that last shot over and over, relived the fear that I’d fall before the last shot hit.
“Rusty…”
Nothing.
Then again later. Searching. Trying to find my way back. “Rus?”
“Oh, babe, you’re back. Please tell me you’re back.”
“Rusty…”
“It’s going to take a while. Don’t push.”
I faded in and out. The dreams were the worst. I held onto the brief moments of clarity as long as I could. When, at last, I felt like I was fully conscious, I gripped the feeling like a life ring, refusing to be pulled down into the murky depths of the drugs. I opened my eyes and Rusty stood, studying my face, looking for a sign, hoping, just hoping.
“Cass?”
“Yeah.”
A huge sigh of relief. “Think you can stick around this time?”
“I’ll try. Talk to me.”
“You gave everybody a big scare this time.”
“Patrick? How’s Patrick?”
“He’s okay. He’s been good for Mom. If he weren’t there she’d be frantic, but he keeps her busy. He asks about you and trying to answer his questions makes her work it out in her own mind.”
“How did the police find me so quick?”
“They didn’t. I did.”
“How did you know?”
“Remember when we squashed the bug in the box with your bulletproof vest?”
“Yeah.”
“We forgot about the one on your purse. A guy from Cranston’s office was told to keep tabs on you and Phillip Cranston backed off. They called Phillip in when we were out doing target practice, but they figured out that those shots were okay. They called him again when you were taken and the conversation was suspicious. Phillip called me as I was trying to tail the black Honda. He passed along the information that leaked through. You gave Cranston Security just enough hints we could use to close in. Eerie lights, fog, a building number. It was just enough. We headed for the gas lamp district. I turned the corner at the end of the alley when they fired at you.” A long pause. “I forgot you were wearing the vest. I saw the shooting, saw you fall and my life ended. There was no way they could have missed. The men shot you, made sure you were laying still and took off up the fire escapes. I was stupid. I was scared and I didn’t care about myself anymore; I had to be there, I had to be with you, no matter what happened. I ran down the alley and picked you up, felt the vest.” He shook his head with a nervous, weary laugh. “Wearing that vest today was the best Christmas present you could have given me. Looking at you, I could see you took quite a blast. I wasn’t sure the vest was enough protection. I tried to remember that it’s normal to not breathe after a hit like that. I told myself that you’d breathe when the shock wore off. But I couldn’t wait. It felt too long. It felt like eons.”
“Have you ever had four guys standing ten feet away from you, knowing they were going to shoot? It was so hard, knowing I couldn’t move or else. I had to just take it. It was my only way out. I thought they were scared enough to shoot and leave me for dead, so I was counting on them not missing.”
“Why did you take off?”
“I… I just freaked out. In my imagination they were coming. When you left, I got scared and had to run. I thought I’d die. I didn’t know the footsteps I heard were the police. I was only half there and had to run.”
“Okay, that makes sense now, considering what you were on. Slick was able to get four of the guys in the alley. He knows where to pick up Shawn. There’s only one guy missing.”
“Shawn didn’t shoot. Tell Slick not to pin that on Shawn. He stood up for me. They were going to shoot me full of drugs and they backed off because of Shawn and shot me instead. He didn’t know he was pulling me from the frying pan into the fire, and he didn’t know it would save my life, but he kept them from doing something worse.”
“Do you know any names?”
“Only Shawn and a guy named Butcher. Butcher was the one they put in charge of my execution because of my name. They thought it was funny that I was named after Butch Cassidy and they had a Butch handy. So they gave him the job.”
“They must have owed Butcher a favor. Who seemed to be the leader of the group?”
“The driver of the black car.”
“I’ll tell Slick.”
“You’re getting along with Slick okay?”
“No. We’re just controlling ourselves for the sake of the case. He apologized for ‘using my wife’, though. Claimed he didn’t know.”
“Well, if it helps any, I don’t feel used. I feel shot. But that’s not his fault.”
“He should have checked your file before he sent you into that school. That’s one reason we never got along. He uses people. It wouldn’t be so bad if he used experienced people, trained officers, but he uses anybody. You had the looks and the little piece of paper. He had all his boxes checked so it was a go in his eyes. The only reason I let you go through with it was because you were staying on campus. Shawn couldn’t do much on campus, but then it got out of hand when you let him leave.”
“Did Patrick really copy the plate number onto the side of the Explorer?”
“Yeah, he did. He even thought up an acronym for the letters so he wouldn’t forget them. Patrick will be okay. This has been really rough for Chase. He’s taking the blame for dragging you into this in the first place. He was right behind me when I found you. He covered me while I was in the alley and then joined a group of cops in the hunt. He was mad. He was ready to shoot somebody. When he saw what they’d done to you he was ready to see some heads roll.”
“I’m glad he hasn’t been around for some of my other disasters then. This one was mild in comparison.”
“None of them are mild in comparison. All of them scare me spitless. Maybe this one seemed milder because you thought you knew what would happen. But I certainly didn’t.”
“Okay, I know the drill. Tests run in the morning to make sure I’ll live. What was the guess on when they’d let me go?”
“Before lunch. Since you were unconscious at the time, I thought that was pushing it, but now that you’re awake and making sense and nothing is broken, it looks pretty good.”
“Good, I’ll clean up my perky blond act and I’ll be out of here by ten. Where’s my hairbrush. Do I have clothes?”
“You have jeans, a see through tank top, shoes and socks. The blouse and vest got damaged in the shooting. I had to take them off when you weren’t breathing.”
“You mean I staggered out of the alley in only jeans and a see through tank top?”
“Yeah, but all the cops in San Diego know who you are now.”
“That makes me feel so much better.”
“Why does Slick get to capture his own felons?” he asked, half kidding.
“I can only hand them over one at a time. Six is pushing it. I did round them up for him and it’s not my fault they got away.”
“Are you going to be okay if I run home and pick up some things for you?”
“Yeah, why don’t you get some sleep and fill everybody in and then bring the stuff with you in the morning?”
“You’re sure?”
“You’ve spent so many nights in hospital chairs. Nothing’s going to happen while you are gone. We’re both just going to sleep so you might as well do it in a bed. Your mom will know everything’s okay if you’re willing to stay there.”
“I’m not worried about my mom.”
“And there’s no reason to worry about me either. You know I won’t stop you from staying here. I just think you’d be more comfortable at home.”
When I woke up in the morning I wasn’t surprised to see Rusty sleeping in the chair next to my bed. Chase showed up bright and early as well.
Other than all the nurses assuming I had a drug problem, the stay was uneventful. They ran their tests and the doctors visited late in the morning to pronounce me fit. One of them even asked why I was there and had to read my chart to be convinced. I thought the bruises across my chest were a gimme on the shooting. And I guess the drug reaction was worse than the actual physical effects on my body. Maybe I stressed the perky blonde act too much if they had to ask what was wrong with me. Rusty and Chase didn’t have the luxury of wondering. They still worried. Rusty brought me home and fussed over me. Patrick sat in my lap. He didn’t seem worried, but it was unusual for him to be physically close, so I took it as a sign that he needed comfort. Rusty’s family tried to act as though nothing had happened. They didn’t pry, but I could tell they were curious. I let Rusty handle the questions unless they were directed specifically to me.
Patrick didn’t want to play outside. He was content building Lego buildings and little cars. We colored, but he insisted on coloring in Rusty’s reminder books. So I colored a picture for Rusty too. I signed it and dated it just like all the kids did.
“I’m going nuts sitting around the house,” I announced suddenly. “Cody, what size are your rollerblades?”
“Men’s nine.”
“Hmm, too big. And the bike is too small.”
“Too small? You’re smaller than me,” he argued.
“Still too small. Can I try your skateboard?”
“Do you know how to skateboard?”
“Yes and no. I’ve never done it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try.”
Bev said, “Cassidy, are you sure that’s wise? You just got out of the hospital.”
“I just got shot at and drugged. It’s not like I just had a body cast removed.”
Patrick asked, “What if the bad guys come back?”
“There are not enough of them left to take me, and I think they’ve learned their lesson.”
The entire family came out front to supervise my first skateboarding attempt. The guys hovered around me like news helicopters on a car chase. Rusty kept watch. Patrick rode the bike. Cody rollerbladed. Bill and Bev watched from patio chairs with Bev cringing whenever I went over a bump or had to jump off. I started out easy, just coasting down the driveway. Even that took some practice. Eventually I tried coasting down the driveway, crossing the street, and trying to go up the neighbor’s driveway. The front wheels made it up the short curb but the back wheels stuck and sent me lurching off the front of the skateboard. I got back on and tried it in the other direction. This time, with a little more speed, I made it up the driveway. Time to try turning. I coasted down the driveway, turned down the hill and everybody yelled at once, “No! Not the hill yet!”
“I’m just turning at the first driveway!” I called back. With my back to the house I pointed the skateboard down the hill, concentrating on the first driveway. Cody followed ready to give me a hand if I needed to bail out. Patrick was riding up and down the sidewalk. Rusty was in police mode. I heard a car approaching from behind so I started my turn to get out of the way. Patrick gasped, which made me think I was going to run into something.
“Uncle Rusty! Bad guy at six o’clock!” Patrick yelled.
I turned to see what Patrick was yelling about and saw the car smoothly drive down the street. The driver’s gun was leveled on me. Rusty turned, drew, fired. A tire blew on the car and it sped up. I looked for cover but couldn’t see any, so I ducked. The skateboard flew out from under me and careened down the hill. I crashed to the asphalt, startled, then rolled to my feet in time to see the car still coming, narrowing the gap.
Bev hid her eyes.
Bill jumped to his feet and grabbed Patrick.
Rusty took out another tire but he was at the wrong angle to get the driver.
I jumped onto the hood of the car, threw myself onto the windshield and grabbed the driver’s gun hand, sticking out the window. I forced it down and away from me and squeezed off shots until I heard a hollow click. I rolled off the car, twisting the gunman’s arm with my fall. I heard a crunch and he screamed. I held on for dear life and the car began drifting as the driver had less and less control. He hit the curb at the end of the street, glanced off and then hit a parked car. Rusty ran up, gun at the ready. The driver dropped his weapon when ordered to and spread eagled as best he could on the hood of the car. Rusty held him there until the officers arrived, Slick right behind them.
Mrs. Rathburn marched up, waggled her finger at me and said, “And I thought your nephew was a scallywag!”
Neighbors poured out of houses and a group gathered at the end of the street. We gave Slick the rundown and when things became boring, we went home to let him sort the rest out. If he had more questions, he knew where to look. I went into the house to check on Patrick but Rusty gathered me up into his arms and walked over to the couch to sit down. He pulled me close, not caring that his parents were watching. He buried his face in my hair and took two deep breaths to steady his nerves.
“Cass, never, never go into the line of fire,” he said quietly, relief mixed with worry.
“I had to make a choice. The car was on top of me. I had to go up or down, and I thought I’d have better luck going up than getting run over. Then once I was up there, I had to deal with the driver.”
“You could have been killed in half a dozen different ways. I know. While I couldn’t shoot I was counting. Are you all right?”
“Yeah… I’m fine.”
Patrick stood there, hands on hips, and asked, “Now can we stay inside and quietly play Legos?”
“Six out of six, Pat. The bad guys are all accounted for, now.”
The doorbell rang and Chase walked in. “Did you know there’s a big to-do at the end of the street?” He looked at Rusty and I sitting together on the couch. “Okay, you know. Do I get the story firsthand or do I have to pry it out of everybody at the station?”
Chase got his story from three different angles and then he got dinner.
“I knew you were leaving in the morning so I wanted to come say goodbye. Maybe things will calm down and get boring again.”
“You have to admit, things are never boring with Cassidy around,” Bev said.
“That’s true,” Chase acknowledged, “but I’d settle for mildly interesting rather than terrifyingly interesting. Patrick, you’ve got my number, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t hesitate to call if you have questions. Just ask your mom or dad first.”
“Chase, you don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“I think I do.”
“What if you’re busy policing or tracking?” Pat asked.
“Just leave a message and I’ll call you back. Remember, if I’m tracking I might be gone for a few days.”
Goodbyes in the morning were rough. Bev got attached to Patrick and knew she might never see him again. And she was beginning to think the same thing about me, for different reasons. There were hugs all around.
“You take care,” Bill admonished me.
“I always try,” I answered.
“Thanks for everything,” Cody said, “the interesting Christmas, the records, letting me see the honeymoon pictures.”
The honeymoon pictures? I glared at Rusty. I guess I should have known.
“Thank you, for letting me stay with you for Christmas and for all the cool presents,” Patrick said, well aware that his mother would ask if he had thanked the Michaels. “My mom will help me write a thank you note after I get home.”
“Not that you need help. I’m going to frame that picture you had taken at the mall and add it to the collection in the bedroom,” Bev said.
We climbed into our packed Explorer and headed for the freeway. It was going to be a long drive. Patrick was all set up with coloring books, reading books and Lego blocks. I could barely see him back there in amongst the toys.
“Are you all settled in for a long drive? It’s going to take most of the day to get to the ranch.”
“Yeah, ready.”
We stopped in Santa Monica for lunch, then in Solvang to stretch our legs in the tourist shops, finally we had a brief stop in San Luis Obispo for a snack. The drive took all day. We finally pulled into the ranch around dusk. After driving slowly past Patrick’s house we realized everyone had gathered at the ranch house. We walked in to see another Christmas waiting for us all over again. Behind the tree was a bright red bicycle. I bent down and pointed it out to Patrick.
“Do me a favor, Pat, wobble a little for your mom when she teaches you to ride it.”
He nodded, eyes big, and said, “It’s almost like Cody’s, except newer.”
“Oooooo, you’re home!” Jesse squealed as she rushed to greet us. She gathered up Patrick and started hugging and kissing him until he squirmed. “Let me look at you!” She turned Patrick this way and that. “You spent nearly two weeks with Cassidy and you’re still in one piece! It’s a miracle!”
“Yeah,” I mumbled, “a miracle.”
“Rusty, Cassidy, you’re looking good,” she added.
“Thanks.”
“Now do we get to? Now do we get to?” asked Wyatt.
“After dinner, Wyatt. Martha is putting it on the table right now.”
We all crowded around the huge table to enjoy a ranch Christmas feast.
“What did Santa Claus bring you in San Diego?” Jesse asked Patrick.
“I got rollerblades, lots of books and binoculars. They make it so you can see things far away. Aunt Cassidy showed me how to look at birds with them. And I got Legos and a remote control car. The car was from Mr. and Mrs. Michaels. I got lots of stuff!”
“What was your favorite present?”
Patrick thought a minute then said, “I got new friends and had adventures. That’s my favorite things. Can we visit San Diego some day?”
“I don’t know Pat, that’s far away. What kind of adventures did you have?”
Uh oh, I thought, here it comes.
“I got to see a mountain lion and we tracked it after it was gone. And I got to go bird watching. We found lots of birds that were in my bird book! And I helped catch a purse snatcher at the mall. And I did a show at the mall in San Diego. They thought it was cool that I could twirl a rope and they had me do it in the mall for people to stop and see. Everybody thought I was a movie star. I handed out autographed pictures and everything.”
“Yeah, if a woman calls and asks for his agent, just tell her you’re not interested.” I added.
“I tracked javelina and I got to shoot a twenty-two. Aunt Cassidy made me call and ask first. So I wasn’t breaking any rules. Uncle Rusty helped me. And I tracked Santa Claus and found out he was magic! He doesn’t leave footprints.”
“Of course Santa leaves footprints,” Jesse said.
“No, he doesn’t. We looked and there were no footprints.”
“Trust me, Jesse, we know for sure now. Patrick and Rusty both checked it out together.”
It was wonderful having Christmas dinner at the ranch with all the hands present, the house decorated, the warmth of family and friends, the excitement of the kids. Everyone ate, opened gifts and enjoyed our time together.
“Thanks for the sweaters,” I told Jesse once we were finally alone. “Rusty will really like them.” Why did everybody buy me clothes with Rusty in mind? “Jesse, I need to talk to you about Pat.”
“Why, he wasn’t any trouble was he? If he was I’ll tan his hide.”
“No! He was no trouble. He was great. But I worry about him. Does he like school?”
“Sometimes. He complains about it a lot.”
“It’s not school he’s complaining about. He isn’t challenged there. When he says they make him read baby books, it’s because he can read at a much higher level. You’ve got to find ways to challenge that kid’s brain. When he was at our place he was reading the bird book, no problem. So I got him a field guide to animal tracks, too. He read a novel at the Michaels’ house, a western like Dad reads. And he built a ball return out of an old erector set for their pool table. He’s very intelligent, but he needs your support. I’m concerned Pat may stop trying, and if that happens then he’ll stop learning.”
“He built a ball return for a pool table. And you let him?”
“Rusty’s dad let him. They just took the fancy pockets off and Patrick went to town on it.”
“Cassidy! How could you let him do that? Do you know how much a pool table costs?”
“And that’s where I’m worried. You’re more concerned about a pool table than you are about letting Patrick use his talents. Bill and Bev thought it was great. We even made up a special version of pool to match the pockets he’d made ball returns for. They were proud of his accomplishment. Why can’t you see his intelligence for what it is? He wasn’t trying to ruin a pool table. He was thinking. When we go back there, I bet the rest of the pool table has erector set ball returns on the pockets. I’m sure it will take Bill a lot longer to figure it out than it did Patrick. Pat has intelligence, talents, skills and interests that are different than yours, but they are valuable and should be encouraged.”
“He gets into trouble when we encourage him. What about the truck?”
“You see the truck incident as a dumb thing for Patrick to do. Did it occur to you that it takes some thinking for a six-year-old to drive a truck? He had to figure out how to start it, what makes it go and stop. The only reason he took out the fence was because he was too little to drive. You choose to see the bad in his actions, and I have trouble with that. You need to look behind what he does and see the brainpower that it took to do it. I agree, driving the truck was a bad thing to do and his punishment was fair. I’m just asking you to be a little more broadminded. I want you to see him in a different light. In San Diego I ran into some trouble. When everybody was freaking out, Patrick was writing the license plate number on the side of the truck. He thinks, Jess. He reasons things out in a way that a kid shouldn’t be able to do. When he does things that seem odd, ask him questions. Find out why he came to the conclusion he did. You’ll be very surprised.”
“Why are you doing this? You’ve never taken the time to talk to me about Patrick before.”
“That’s because I’d never been around him long enough to see how complex he is. I’ve never had enough time with him to love him for who he is. But now that we’ve been together for awhile, I feel like I need to speak up for him. If you see him crawling around in the yard looking at the ends of grasses and finding hairs in the bushes and reading difficult books, don’t stop him. He’s studying the world in a way that interests him. The dirt washes off, but the knowledge doesn’t. Let him learn.”
“What about you? Did you learn anything from all this? Are you ready to be a mom or did Patrick scare motherhood right out of you?”
“I learned volumes but I’m not ready to be a mom. I’m more open to it though. I want to be a tracker and a wife before I’m a mom. What would you think if Patrick wanted to be a tracker? I know. Tracking doesn’t pay and he needs a real job. But what if he just wanted to develop that side of himself? He loves animals. He loves tracking. Patrick could become really good at it, better than me. Would you support him in that?”
“You taught him to track?”
“Only a little, enough to see he has a lot of potential. He tracked a mountain lion, a mule deer, and a person. Then Chase took him out to track javelina. He did exceptionally well for a six-year-old. I talked to Chase about how to teach Pat and he’s been giving me some guidance.”
“He can learn to track. Nobody’s stopping him.”
“Pat needs to get out more to track. When he’s limited to the yard it’s really hard on him.”
“That’s why we bought him the bike. Once he learns to ride it well I’ll have new boundaries for him. He’ll be able to explore between our house and the ranch. He can follow the road behind the ranch. There’s a gate back there he has to stay behind. I think that might help.”
“Yes, definitely! He’ll be happier with more space. He really does enjoy learning. We practiced math, reading and science while he was with us and he seemed very open to it. Just keep an open mind, look for the intelligence behind Pat’s actions and complaints, and ask him questions when you don’t understand him. Don’t automatically think he’s weird when he’s just being different. Someday when Wyatt is a little older I’ll keep him for a week too. I bet he’s an entirely different little person and even smarter than he looks as well.”
“You need your own little person to teach,” she reminded me.
“I know. Maybe someday.”
That evening I had a job to do. I wasn’t sure if anyone would cooperate, but was hoping a few would. I gathered a small group of our family and ranch hands in the living room and told them about the vest and the drug dealers. Then I explained how Phillip Cranston had kept tabs on me through the bug and how he had helped the police to find me. Finally I showed them my purse, hoping to convince everyone that it wasn’t as strange as they may have first thought to speak to an inanimate object.
“Phillip? This is Cassidy. If Phillip isn’t available then whoever is listening please take a message, or set your sneaky recording device, or whatever it is you do.” I gave them time to find a notepad and pen, or Phillip, then continued. “I don’t know if you heard the outcome of my latest little escapade. I wanted to thank you, but I don’t really know how. I tested the vest. It worked and I’m still alive because of it. Because of you, maybe I’ll see another Christmas. So, thank you. I’ll never forget you or Carl. I hope you got to play slot cars with the boys. Have a Happy New Year, this is Cassidy, signing off.”
My dad stepped forward and said, “Mr. Cranston? This Wayne Gordon of Gordon Quarter Horses. I’m Cassidy’s father and I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for giving my daughter back to me. She’s a whole heck of trouble, but we love her anyway.”
“I’m Randy, I work at the ranch and Cassidy is like my little sister. Don’t know what I’d do without her. So, thank you, sir, for being there when she needed you.”
“Mr. Cranston? I’m Jesse. I’m Cassidy’s sister and, and hell, I’m terrible at these things. I’m going to cry, I know it.”
One by one, several of them said a few words. I didn’t know if Phillip got it all. I hoped he got the gist of it. When everybody was through, I peeled off the bug and squashed it, closing that chapter of my life and ending my link to the Cranston family. The bug left a sticky square of glue on my purse. Reminders of Carl would be with me forever, I thought. Next time I’ll track faster. I’ll get there sooner. I’ll find that ten sixty-five or my name isn’t Cassidy Michaels, Dangerous Tracker Woman.