Silver James - Cowgirls Don't Cry

“I need to get outside, Uncle Boots.” She breathed the words out in a rush and added a few “I’m sorry, excuse me’s” in her wake. Stepping into the balmy temperature of the early spring morning didn’t quell the feeling of being stalked.

A man wearing a black Stetson caught her eye. He strode across the parking lot headed toward a massive Ford pickup. Broad shoulders tapered to a really fine pair of jeans—could it be the guy from Chicago? That wasn’t possible. No way, no how. The shiver dancing through her this time had nothing to do with fear.

* * *

Chance escaped before she recognized him. Traffic wasn’t heavy enough to curtail his thoughts, which left him wanting nothing more than a tall scotch and a cold shower. What in the world had possessed him to attend the memorial service? Who was he trying to kid? Cassidy Morgan. He was drawn to her like a honeybee to clover. Crossing paths with her in Chicago had been a fluke but now he knew where to find her.

Her face as she eulogized her father was far too reminiscent of her expression in the hotel lobby. He’d probably bumped into her right after she received the news about her father’s passing. Chance didn’t do vulnerable but this woman had an inner spark that drew him like a bull to a red cape. He wanted her, plain and simple—even if there was nothing simple about this situation.

His cell phone rang, and he punched the button on the steering wheel for the Bluetooth connection. He snarled into the hidden microphone, “What?”

“Dang, bro. Don’t be biting my head off.”

“What do you want, Cord?”

“Cash and I tracked down that stud colt the old man wanted. You’re not going to believe where he is.”

“Dammit. Does he want me chasing a horse or stealing a ranch out from under a woman who just buried her father?”

“Whoa, dude. Back up there a minute. That almost sounded like you’ve developed a conscience.”

Chance rubbed his temple and gave up trying to talk and drive at the same time. He pulled off and realized he’d parked a block from the Four Corners. How the hell had that happened? He jammed the transmission into Park and leaned his head back against the headrest on the driver’s seat. “Okay, Cord, so tell me where the damn horse is.”

“Right here. The plot thickens, little brother. Ben Morgan bought that colt months before you headed north to track him down. He’s been under our noses all along.”

He sat up straighter. “The ranch and everything on it is collateral. The colt, too?”

“No clue, but Cash is pulling financials. I’ll keep you posted. In the meantime, the old man wants to accelerate things. Can you call the balloon payment immediately?”

“Our father is a real SOB, Cord.”

His brother’s ringing laughter filled the cab. “So what else is new?” Cord broke the connection before Chance could retort anything.

He stared out the windshield. “So what’s that make us, big brother?”

Four

The screen door banged shut behind her. The room hadn’t changed one iota in her entire life. She stopped short as countless memories washed over her.

Don’t run in the house.

Don’t slam the door.

No, you can’t bring that baby skunk inside.

Boots sprawled in the worn wooden chair on the porch, Buddy at his feet. A small metal table separated his chair from its twin. Her father’s chair. How many evenings had she worked on her homework at the kitchen table, listening to the two men talk through the open window? She passed off an icy glass of sweet tea to Boots then grabbed a third chair, a refugee from some 1950s patio set, and settled into it.

“What are you not sayin’, Cassie?”

She’d put off this discussion for almost a week. So much for easing into the conversation. There was no way to soften her news, so she blurted it out. “I’m putting the ranch up for sale.” When Boots didn’t respond, she plunged ahead. “I don’t need the money. Not really. I want to set you up with a little place closer to town. A place where you and Buddy and a horse and some cows can live and be happy.”

She gulped down a breath and continued. “It’s for the best, you know. I have a life in Chicago. A job. Friends. I left the ranch and never intended to come back, and I wouldn’t know what to do with it and...and...” Her voice trailed off as she raised her gaze to meet his. “Say something, Uncle Boots. Don’t just sit there staring at me like I’ve grown a second head.”

“You can’t sell the ranch.”

“Yes, I can. It’s mine.” She snapped her mouth shut. Maybe it wasn’t hers. Maybe her father had left the place to Boots. “Isn’t it?”

“Sort of.”

“What’s that mean?”

“You’re Ben’s heir, but the place is in hock to the bankers.”

“What did Daddy do, Uncle Boots?”

“He took out a loan, Cassie, to pay the medical bills. The note on the land is coming due soon.”

She winced, shut her eyes and rubbed at her temples. “How much?”

“A bunch.”

“Define a bunch, Uncle Boots.” Money. This she understood.

“More than what your daddy has in the bank. More than what I have in the bank. And unless you’ve made a fortune I don’t know about, more than what you have.”

“What was he thinking?” The words burst from her mouth before she could stop them.

“He was thinking about paying his bills.”

The censure in Boots’s tone burned, but she deserved it. “I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. But if Dad took out a loan, he must have had a plan. He didn’t believe in being in debt.” She tried to feel hopeful while waiting for that proverbial other shoe to drop.

“Cattle.”

“Cattle?”

“Before he was diagnosed, he bought a herd of five hundred feeder calves cheap. Had them on grass all winter so they’re fat and almost ready for market. Give ’em another few weeks, and they’ll bring top price. Grass-fed beef is the big thing now, so those calves should make enough to pay off the balloon payment with plenty to cover the rest of his debts to the hospital and leave you a little start-up cash.”

“Start-up cash? Did he really believe I’d come back here to stay? With him gone? Why would I do that?” She gulped and quickly added, “Not that I don’t love you, Uncle Boots.”

“You need to come with me.” He heaved up out of his chair.

He limped going down the steps, Buddy close on his heels, and she remembered Boots was even older than her father. He had to be pushing seventy. Man and dog ambled toward the barn and a few moments later, Cass followed. She caught up and as they entered the dim environs of the wooden structure side by side, Buddy darted ahead. Boots paused to flip a light switch, though it didn’t add much illumination to the space. Whickers greeted them, and a few horses stuck their heads over the stall doors to watch. She recognized her father’s favorite horse, Red. A big sorrel with a white blaze, the horse neighed and stretched his neck.

“Your dad spoiled that dang pony.”

Cass laughed and stepped over to the stall. Red nickered and stretched his nose toward her. She reached up, and his velvet lips nibbled her palm. “I’ll sneak you a carrot later.” She patted the horse’s neck before glancing back at Boots. “So? You wanted me to see Red?”

He shook his head before tilting it toward the stall across the way. “Nope. I want you to look over here.” He pointed to a stall across the barn. “Ben was a horse trader and that’s what he did. Just for you.”

* * *

Chance knocked on the door, but no one answered. Lights illuminated the windows and Boots’s rusty old truck was parked nearby. He walked to the end of the porch. A glass of tea sweated on a metal table. Then he noticed the open door and lights glowing in the barn. He sauntered that way, rehearsing what to say. Whatever he said, his heart wasn’t really in what he had to do, even as it tripped a couple of beats at the thought of seeing Cassidy again.