Cowgirls Don't Cry (11 page)

“I know what you want, Miss Morgan. Your father owes this bank two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, give or take some interest. Are you prepared to pay that amount today?”

“I can’t. I need an extension.”

“The matter has been referred to legal counsel for collection and foreclosure on the assets and is no longer my responsibility.”

She’d been ready to launch into her argument when the import of his statement sank in. “Wait... What? Foreclosure? But the papers—”

“Ms. Morgan, loan payments were deferred to a balloon payment at the end of the loan period. If you are prepared to pay the full amount due and owing, the bank will halt the collection proceedings. If you aren’t, then the matter is out of my hands.”

“You can’t just do things like this.”

“I not only can, young lady, but it’s done. This bank is not in the habit of buying cattle, and that is essentially what we would have to do since your father defaulted on the loan.” He leaned back and rocked, his fingers laced across his ample belly. “I work for the bank. The loan is in default. Filing suit was the financially sound action for this institution. The matter is out of my hands.”

“But...” She sat, stunned and speechless.

“Your time is up. You need to leave, Miss Morgan, or I will call security and have you removed.”

“But...”

He leaned forward and tapped a button on his phone. “Call security to my office.”

Cass glared at the man but rose from the chair. “My daddy trusted you.”

She spun on her heel and marched out with her head held high, brushing by the startled guard. He shadowed her all the way to the parking lot and waited until she climbed into Boots’s beat-up old truck, started it and drove out of the parking lot.

“So much for the friendliness of small-town banks,” she groused.

At the next stoplight, she dug her cell phone out of her purse and dialed. The incessant ring echoed from the speaker. “C’mon, Chance. Pick up. Please...”

“You have reached my voice mail. You know what to do.”

Yeah, she knew what to do. Why the hell was she depending on the jerk anyway? He sweet-talked her, wined her, dined her and jumped her in bed and then he no longer had time for her. Well, fine. She didn’t need him. She didn’t need anybody.

A horn honked and startled her out of her thoughts. She focused on driving until she got to a little place next to the highway. It wasn’t the Four Corners but the scent of BBQ wafting through the truck’s open window made her drool and her stomach gnaw on itself.

Inside, the wooden-planked walls looked grimy and smoke-stained, but the food still smelled heavenly. Antiques and old pictures littered every surface. She ordered ribs and fries, heaped her plate with onions, dill pickle chips and jalapeños, and sat down at a little table in the corner.

She bit into the first rib and almost moaned. Plastic squeeze bottles held different sauces and ketchup. Experimenting with the various flavors, she found a mix she liked, dragged the rib through the puddle of sauce on her plate and devoured it.

As she finished off the last of the homemade apple cobbler and ice cream, Cass realized this would be the last time she splurged. She had less than a thousand dollars in her checking account. The ranch account had enough to pay the bill at the electric co-op. The propane company had told her they could wait, and she had almost a full tank at the house anyway.

No job. No income. The loan was due, and she had no clue how to pay it. A headache formed between her eyes, and she rubbed her forehead. Why did she even care? She hated the ranch. Didn’t she? Hated Oklahoma. But not a certain man who lived here.

She could just walk away. Not look back. Leave Boots and Buddy and—she nipped that thought. She did not want to think about Chance. About leaving him. Her life was in Chicago. Not here. Wasn’t it? She didn’t want to deal with the tangle of emotions Chance conjured up. Why hadn’t he returned her calls?

People gave up and walked away all the time. But she wasn’t a quitter. Her daddy would be spinning in his grave—or in that little box holding his ashes—if he could hear her thoughts.

I don’t raise quitters, honey. You wipe those tears, get back in that saddle and ride. You’re a Morgan. Show ’em what you’re made of.

“Oh, Daddy,” she murmured. “I miss you. What am I going to do?”

Something clattered back in the kitchen, and she jerked her head at the sound. Broken glass and spilled food. Yeah, that was a terrific sign from heaven. She glanced out the window but a photo beneath it caught her attention. Faded with age, it showed a group of cowboys on horseback. A herd of cattle milled behind the riders. Leaning closer, she peered at the legend on the photo.
1944—Calvin Barron and hands deliver herd to Oklahoma City National Stockyards.

“That was quite a day.”

Cass jumped and jerked her head around. An old black man in a stained apron chuckled. “The war was on and gasoline was bein’ rationed. Old Mr. Barron, he had him a herd of prime cows and no way to get ’em to market. The gov’ment wanted them heifers to feed the army, but them ol’ boys had to figure out a way to get ’em to the stockyards to put ’em on the train.”

Dizzy as ideas whirled in her head, Cass felt as if she was on the verge of discovering something important. Then the name clicked. “Wait.
Old
Mr. Barron?”

“Yes, ma’am. Mister Cal was the current Mr. Barron’s daddy. Mr. Cal was sure anxious t’get those cows to the railhead. Story goes they were all sittin’ around drinkin’, and those boys decided they’d have an old-fashioned trail drive. So they did. Took ’em nigh on two weeks but we pushed that herd from Mr. Barron’s ranch up on the North Canadian River and right down into the stockyards. The newspaper came out and took pictures. Some radio guy from back East came out to interview folks.”

Cass glanced at him. “Wait... You said
we
? You rode with them?” She leaned closer to the picture, studying it.

He tapped the back corner, and she squinted at the grainy photo. She could just make out a chuck wagon in the background. A man with dark skin stood beside it while a little boy waved from the wagon’s seat.

“My pop was the chuck wagon cook, and I got t’tag along. That was quite an adventure for a kid like me.”

She smiled and resisted the urge to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”

The crinkles smoothed from his face as his expression turned curious. “For what?”

“For your excellent BBQ. For coming out here to talk to me. For...for giving me the faith that maybe I can do what needs to be done. I gotta go!”

She dashed out to the old truck, climbed in and pulled out her phone. Cass stared at it, gulping in long breaths as she attempted to quell her excitement. “Daddy, we might just be able to pull this off. With a lot of help.” She’d give Chance one more...chance. She chuckled at the irony, but was barely able to breathe around the anticipation. When she got his voice mail, she didn’t care. Her enthusiasm bubbled over as she left a garbled message, not even aware when it clicked off automatically.

Eleven

C
hance’s fingers curled into fists as he stared at his phone. He’d resisted the urge to answer, but had to listen to this voice mail, had to hear her voice. The message...hurt. She burbled with excitement, the words rushing like a stream tumbling over rocks.

“Saw the banker finally. Sorry sonofagun. He said the bank’s foreclosing, Chance. But it doesn’t matter. I can get the cattle to the stockyards. I know I can. You won’t believe what happened. You know Cyrus Barron? Jeez, that man has more money than Midas. Anyway, I found out something tonight. You won’t believe this. His father did a cattle drive. In the forties. During the war. I can—” The phone cut off.

He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped around him, squeezing all the air out. For a minute, he thought she’d found out about his father. When she continued babbling and her excitement level ratcheted up a notch, he’d tried to listen but the pounding blood in his ears muted any sound. He hit the replay button and listened again, prepared this time.

Cattle drive? During the war? What the hell was she talking about? And more important, what relevance did it have now? He grabbed his phone and hit a speed dial number.

“Oh? So now you decide to talk to me?”

“Shut up, Cord. She knows the bank is foreclosing.”

“Does she know why?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t
think
so?”

“I don’t know, Cord, and I really don’t care. She called, really excited, and the way she said the old man’s name, I don’t think she knows. But I need some information.”

“About what?”

“About some cockamamie idea she got from somewhere. Do you know anything about a Barron cattle drive?”

“Dude, seriously? The old man pushing cows?”

He heard the clacking of a computer keyboard. “No, not the old man, Granddad Cal. In the forties, during the war.”

“Huh. Color me impressed. There’s a big file on it in the
Oklahoma Chronicle
’s morgue. Hang on a sec and I’ll forward it to you. To make a long story short, Granddad Cal had a crapload of cows to sell and because of gas rationing, he decided to herd them from the ranch to the stockyards. The thing got a lot of attention. According to the file, it was even featured in a newsreel at the movies. The last cowboy. That sort of thing. Bottom line, he got the herd to market and made a killing. Army paid top dollar. Drove those steers straight into box cars and shipped ’em off to Chicago for slaughter. Why? What’s this got to do with the Morgan situation?”

Chance stared out the window wondering the same thing. “I don’t know. Yet. I’ll keep you posted.”

“Nice to have you back on board, bro. Now get the paperwork finished. The old man wants the notice of foreclosure served pronto.”

His brother’s words echoed in his head.
Nice to have you back on board.
But was he? He needed to see Cassidy. Find out what harebrained stunt she was planning. And then he’d talk her out of it. He’d make a few calls. Get her another job in Chicago. His heart hammered at the thought. Was that what he wanted?

It would be the simplest solution. She’d go back to Chicago. Their relationship, if it could be called that, would be over. She would no longer be a burr under his saddle, and she’d never know that his family—that
he
—had betrayed her. There was only one problem with that plan. He didn’t want her to go. He wanted her to stay. And he wanted her to care about him. Like he cared about her. There. He admitted it. He cared about Cassidy Morgan. He shouldn’t. Didn’t want to. But he did. No matter how many calls he ignored, how far away from her he stayed, his heart betrayed him. He was a coward, despite the fact he loved her. Admitting it to himself should make him feel better. It didn’t. He felt like the biggest bastard on the planet. She deserved a better man, a man worthy of her.

“Dammit all to hell. How did my life get so complicated?”

Staring at the open folder on his desk, he sighed. Family was everything. Blood was thicker than water. All the clichés his father hammered into his sons as they grew up in his shadow came back to haunt him. He wanted to do the right thing. But what was it?

* * *

Boots stumbled out of his room and headed straight for the coffeepot. Nosy, Cass watched him. He walked back to the table and peered curiously at the maps. “You look a little peaked this morning, Uncle Boots. Bad night?”

He muttered something under his breath and she thought she caught the words, “honky tonk,” “dancing,” and “that fool woman.”

She bit her lip to hide a smile. “Yeah...gotcha. None of my business. I suggest we institute a don’t-ask, don’t-tell policy around here when it comes to our social lives.”

He growled and sipped his coffee. Then he tapped a finger on the map. “You planning a trip?”

Cass pushed back from the table, snagged her own mug and took a sip. She grimaced but swallowed the cold coffee. She headed to the sink to dump the contents and pour a fresh cup. “Sort of.” She returned to the table, sat and gestured for Boots to join her. “We need to talk.”

“No luck with the banker, I take it?”

“None. The bank is foreclosing unless I pay off the loan on or before the due date.””

He stared at her a full minute, his expression never changing before he asked, “You gonna explain the maps?”

She inhaled and rushed on. “For the cattle drive. It’s been done before. Granted, it was almost seventy years ago but Calvin Barron...” She would have missed his expression if she hadn’t been so intent on watching him. “What?”

“Nothing. Go on.”

She knit her brows, puzzling through his reaction but continued doggedly. “I’ll need permits. I plan on going to the commissioners of Canadian and Oklahoma Counties today to find out. Unless you need the truck?” She batted her eyes at him. “You know, to go to the Four Corners or...something.”

He muttered under his breath, and she had to choke back a laugh as he blushed beneath his tan. “Take the damn truck. I have fence to ride.” He pushed back from the table, the chair legs scraping against the scarred linoleum.

Cass paused to throw her arms around the old man’s neck as he sat in his recliner. “This is going to work, Uncle Boots. I just know it!” The only damper on her enthusiasm was the fact Chance still hadn’t called her. She alternated between concern and anger. If he’d blown her off, he could have been man enough to say so instead of keeping her dangling. But she was enough of a worrywart to wonder if something bad had happened to him. “Maybe Chance will help out, too.”

“I hope so, baby girl.” He muttered something under his breath that sounded like “for your sake.”

Cassie kissed the top of his head, wondering at his words. Chance would call. She argued with herself, ending with the final insistent word as she muttered, too. “He will.”

* * *

The next afternoon, Cass rode toward the barn, Buddy trotting beside her horse. Her sleeve was torn, and a few bloodstains spotted the frayed fabric. She’d stretched a strand of barbed wire too taut, and it had wrapped around her arm when it snapped. She’d have to make a trip to a clinic to get a tetanus shot. Her last booster was long out of date. Hot, sweaty and physically worn out, she wasn’t looking forward to trekking into town.

As she neared the metal structure, something moved inside, and Buddy took off at a run. His excited barking reached her, and she nudged Red into a trot. Her heart skipped a beat when she recognized the man who stepped into the sunlight. Chance. She’d all but given up on him. He hadn’t returned any of her calls. Her traitorous heart galloped at the sight of him, a stupid grin spread across her face and she laughed like a giddy girl on her first date.

He shaded his eyes and raised his hand in a rather tentative wave. She resisted the urge to wave madly back at him as she reined Red to a walk and then stopped the big horse several yards away. After dismounting, she did her best to ignore her emotions and the man creating havoc with her pulse rate.

“Gee, fancy meeting you here.” She was so proud of herself. Just a hint of sarcasm and no breathy sigh.

He stepped closer and reached out, but she wasn’t sure whether he meant to touch her or take the reins. “Cass, we should—what the hell?” He grabbed her arm, his hand gentle despite the urgency in his grip. “What happened?”

She tugged her arm, but his fingers didn’t relinquish their hold. “I had a fight with a string of barbed wire. I won.”

“Well, it doesn’t look that way to me. You’re bleeding.”

“No, I’m not. It’s dried. Mostly.”

“We need to get you to the ER.”

“No,
we
don’t. In case you’ve forgotten in your rather noticeable absence, I was fired. That means no more insurance. That means I can’t pay an ER bill.”

“When was your last tetanus shot?”

“Long enough ago that I need one. But not at the ER. I can’t afford five hundred dollars for a stupid shot. One of the drugstores in town has a clinic. I can get a booster there.”

“Get up to the house and clean out the wounds. I’ll put Red up and then come help.”

She blew out a breath and her bangs, even though they were sweat-damp, danced from the force. “I’m a big girl, Chance. I can doctor myself and drive to the clinic.”

“Driving what? The tractor?”

She leaned around him and glanced through the barn. Boots’s pickup was gone. “Oh...”

“You. House. Now. I’ll be up after I take care of Red, and we’ll go to the clinic.” He held up his hand, palm facing her. “No arguments.”

Huffing and muttering under her breath about his bossiness, she relinquished the reins and marched through the barn. Buddy trotted beside her until she arrived at the far door; then the dog abandoned her to go back to Chance. “Traitor.”

Two hours later, her arm properly bandaged and sore from the injection, Cass sat in a booth across from Chance at the Four Corners. A mound of mashed potatoes smothered in cream gravy perched next to a chicken-fried steak. Fried okra and more gravy appeared in separate bowls on the girl’s next trip.

“Do I need to cut up your meat?”

She jerked her chin up and glared across the table. “I’m not helpless, Chance. I am perfectly capable of cutting up my own chicken fry.” To prove her point, she grabbed the knife and fork and proceeded to carve off a bite. She even managed to hide her grimace when her upper arm throbbed with pain from the action.

They ate in silence, though Chance watched her every move. Self-conscious, she took little bites and made sure her mouth stayed closed as she chewed. As the waitress cleared her plate, she met his gaze.

“What?”

“Hmmm?” He seemed distracted, his eyes watching her mouth.

“I guess you’ve been really busy. Or something?” Her inner skeptic was back, front and center. Then an emotion she couldn’t decipher slid across his face before he shuttered his expression. She never wanted to play poker with this man. He reached across the table and covered her hand with his. She did her best to ignore the frisson of desire ignited by his touch. As much as she wanted to stay angry with him, she melted inside whenever he looked at her.

“You can’t be serious, Cass.”

Confused, she stared at him. “Serious? About what?”

He nodded toward the cash register and the bulletin board hanging on the wall beside it. “A cattle drive. Really?”

She swiveled in the booth to see. Sure enough, her flier asking for volunteer drovers was displayed in front of them. Turning back to Chance, she readied for battle. Here she’d been all “ooey-gooey” about being with him again and now this? The dismissive tone of his voice set her off.

“How else can I get the herd to the stockyards? I can’t hire a hauler. I talked to the sale manager. He said if I don’t bring them all in at once I’ll lose major money. And frankly? At this point, I can’t afford to lose another dime.”

She combed frustrated fingers through her bangs, wincing as she flexed her biceps. So much for him understanding and wanting to help. “I’m out of time, Chance, which you’d know if you ever listened to your voice mail.” She watched as the arrogant facade he’d worn crumbled a bit. Maybe she could play poker with him after all. Score one for her.

“I’ve been busy, Cass. I’m...sorry.”

A snort erupted—half bitter laugh, half the sound of derision it was meant to be. “Busy? Well, guess what, cowboy. Me, too. I’m hanging on by my fingernails. I’m stuck with a ranch I never wanted in the first place but all my options were ripped out from under me. I have no choice. I walk away with nothing after a forced liquidation sale, declare bankruptcy and hope to hell I can live in the homeless shelter until I can find a job.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “I don’t own a car, Chance, so I can’t live in it. Nadine has been after Boots forever. If he has any sense, he’ll marry her and move in with her, and take Buddy, Red and Lucky with him. My other option is to stay and fight. I’m not paranoid, but I’m really starting to wonder. The bank decides to foreclose. There’s not a cattle hauler in three states that’ll talk to me. I lose my job.” She ticked off the points on her fingers.

“The market is prime right now, and I’ve got Grade A beef on the hoof, grass-fed and tender. Daddy gambled everything on that herd. I can’t let him down. I can’t turn tail and run, as much as I’d like to just find a hole, crawl into it and die. I wasn’t raised that way.”

She paused for a breath, struck silent for a moment by Chance’s expression. A mixture of admiration, sadness and something she didn’t want to identify but hoped like hell wasn’t guilt etched the handsome planes of his face. He met her gaze, but he blinked first.

His hand captured one of hers again while the other cupped her cheek. “Dammit, Cassie. I...care about you. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Too late for that.” He winced at her cutting tone, but she didn’t care. Much. Tired of feeling alone, she leaned into his palm. “Help me, Chance. Help me make everything right again.”

His expression softened, and his fingertips caressed her skin but he didn’t say anything as he dropped his hand.

Exasperated, she pulled away from him. “You can help me or get the hell out of my way, Chance.” When he remained silent, she shrugged. “Fine. Thanks for dinner, but I need to get home. I’ve got a lot of work to do to get ready for the trail drive.”