Cowgirls Don't Cry (10 page)

Ten

“N
o.” Cass glared at the man sitting across from her in the booth at Nadine’s diner.

“You aren’t thinkin’ this through, sugar.”

“No, Boots. I can’t take your money.”

“Honey, your daddy was my best friend. He was more like my family than my own blood. And so are you. Family helps family.”

Cass refused to look at his earnest face. Her untouched breakfast cooled on the plate as she drew desultory designs on the table from the condensation ring left by her ice water glass. “Sandra agreed to box up the stuff I want to keep and ship it, and then have a tag sale to dump the rest. I gave notice so I should get my apartment deposit back and the utility deposits will pay off the final bills I owe up there.”

“You aren’t going back to Chicago?”

She hated the hope she heard in his voice. She’d done a lot of thinking in the few days since her firing. She loved Chicago. Loved her job and her dinky apartment and the wind whistling off the lake so cold it could cut. She hated the heat and the dust and smells of living on the ranch. The dirty, back-breaking work. Didn’t she?

“I can’t afford it right now, Uncle Boots. Not until I get things settled here.” She glanced up. “No. I’m still not going to take your money. You need it. Daddy wanted you to be comfortable. So do I.”

“Honey, I don’t need much. You’re just as stubborn as Ben. Always gotta do it your own way.”

She shrugged and dropped her gaze to the water doodles she’d made.

“What? My cookin’ not good enough for you, Miz Cassidy Anne?” Nadine had appeared, coffeepot in hand, and her voice held not a lick of chiding. “You look like you lost your best friend, hon. You wanna tell ol’ Auntie Nadine about it?”

Try as she might not to, she felt compelled to look up at the woman. Concern radiated in Nadine’s expression even as the skin around her eyes crinkled from her friendly smile.

“Everything looks better with a full stomach and a cup of hot coffee.”

“I don’t think buttermilk pancakes will solve my problems, Nadine.”

The woman shooed her over and plopped down on the booth’s bench beside her. “But sometimes, talkin’ things over with friends does. Boots told me a bit of what’s goin’ on. I’m sure sorry for your troubles. I know your daddy didn’t figure on this crap happenin’. He was a planner, Ben Morgan was. Always one step ahead of life in his thoughts. We just need to do the same.”

For a moment, anger welled up. How dare Boots discuss her business with a stranger! But then she saw the expression on his face, and things cleared up. Nadine wasn’t a stranger. Not to Boots. He was sweet on the woman. And Nadine returned those feelings.

“Honey, your daddy had a passel of friends. He had an open hand when it came to helpin’ folks. I’m sure they’d all step up to return the favor. You just need to figure out what it is you need.”

“I need to get my friggin’ herd to market.” The words erupted before she could think about them, her voice filled with all the anger and frustration she’d tamped down for a week.

A man at the counter swung around on his stool. “That’s what cattle haulers are for.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Duh. But none of them will haul for me.”

The man’s brow furrowed, and he scratched his head, which set the John Deere cap on his head to dancing. “They locked you out?”

“Evidently.”

“That don’t seem fair.”

She bit back another
duh
. “It is what it is. I still don’t have a way to get the herd to market. If I use the old stock trailer at the ranch, I can only take a few at a time. Running them through the sale that way loses me money in the long run. I need a big ol’ chunk of money to pay off everything.” She didn’t want to mention that she could barely afford gas for the truck.

Almost everyone in the diner turned to look at her, and she resisted the urge to bang her head on the table. A little boy perched on a stool at the counter continued to watch the TV above the cash register. An old black-and-white movie played across the screen. He tugged on his mother’s sleeve and pointed at the screen. “Mommy, can I have cartoons?”

The young woman chuckled. “I can’t believe you don’t want to watch a cowboy movie, C.J. With John Wayne, no less.”

The youngster offered a disgruntled expression and a deep sigh. “But...cartoons, Mom.”

The man on the stool next to the boy winked. “Your mom’s right, son. John Wayne and cattle on a trail drive is a classic Western story.”

“Huh.” The child scowled again before gazing at his mother impatiently.

Nadine slid out of the booth and headed for the remote control. “I think I can get the Cartoon Network, honey. Just give me a sec to find the right channel.”

Cass twisted in her seat to stare at the TV before it flickered quickly through several channels and cartoons filled the screen. She shifted to stare at Boots. “No.”

Boots looked perplexed as he returned her gaze. “No what?”

“I...nothing.” She shook her head. “Just a really crazy idea. One that is way too far-fetched to ever work.”

“I can see the wheels turnin’, honey. Why don’t you just tell me?”

She continued to shake her head, denying the wild scheme forming in her brain. “But...”

Nadine returned with a fresh pot of coffee and refilled their mugs. “Boots, you ever notice she gets that same look Ben got whenever he got a wild hair?”

“No. It’s...there’s no way. The idea is too ridiculous to even consider.”

“Well, honey, if you don’t tell us about it, there won’t be a way ’cause we won’t be able to help you figure out how to make it work.” Boots sipped from his coffee mug.

Cass stared from one to the other. “A cattle drive.” Nadine and Boots exchanged a cryptic look, and she sighed. “See? I told you it was ridiculous. There’s no way we could do a trail drive from the ranch to the stockyards.”

“Why not?”

Her jaw dropped. “Because, Uncle Boots. Half of Oklahoma City stands between the Crazy M and the stockyards. Not to mention a couple of major interstate highways.”

“You know, that just might work.” The man in the booth behind her tapped her on the shoulder. “You’d need some permits and stuff but you could move ’em along section line roads. Wouldn’t have to touch many busy streets at all.”

Were they not listening? She still wanted to bang her head on the table. This was too crazy to even contemplate.

“Anybody got a map?” Another man dragged a chair over and planted his beefy body at the end of the table. “We could draw out the route right now.”

“No. Just...stop. It’s just Boots and me. We can’t handle five hundred head. And it’s...what? At least twenty miles to the stockyards? We can’t push cattle more than five maybe ten miles a day tops. There’d be no place to stop at night. No place to water them. I...thank you. All of you. But I...it won’t work.”

Her audience grumbled but turned away, returning to their own business. The idea was simply too preposterous to even consider. She drank her coffee, completely unaware it held neither cream nor sugar. There had to be another way. She just needed to figure out what it was. Maybe she’d call Chance. He’d disappeared after her outburst, but he’d called and left voice mails on her cell phone since then, asking how she was doing. He was a cowboy. And smart. Maybe he had some ideas that would help.

Late that afternoon, she clicked off the phone rather than leave yet another voice mail message for him. Boots was down at the barn working with the colt, and Buddy lay in a puddle of sunshine streaming through a window. He woofed, and his paws twitched as he chased something in his dreams. She dropped beside him on the floor and buried her fingers in his thick fur.

“Am I crazy, Buddy? I mean like totally insane? There’s no way we can drive those cattle to the stockyards. The logistics alone are...I can’t even wrap my brain around what would be involved. No. I can’t do this. There’s got to be another way. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and park myself outside the president’s office until he meets with me.” She nodded as if to punctuate her resolve. “He’ll have to talk to me. Have to listen to me. And I’ll work something out.” Bending, she brushed her cheek across the top of the dog’s head. “I have no choice, Buddy.”

The dog whined and licked her chin. “I’m glad somebody still loves me.”

* * *

“I’m glad somebody still loves me.” Chance flashed his legal assistant a smile. “Thanks for staying late.”

“I stay late every night. Say what you mean.” She waggled her index finger at him, the other hand on her hip. “Why, thank you, Heidi, for taking all the heat from my family, for not making me talk to them.”

She was right, but he sure hated to admit it. Even so, her attitude made him grin. “You are worth your weight in gold, Heidi.”

“I’m getting that in writing so I can hold it over your head come bonus time.” She leaned on his desk and closed the folder he’d been staring at for the past hour. “Shut it down, boss. Go home. Or go out. Go do something besides sit here and brood.”

He kicked back in his desk chair and fiddled with the expensive pen in his hand. “You’re on her side.”

She laughed—long and hard. “Of course I’m on her side. Your father is an absolute alpha hotel.”

Heidi’s husband was retired military, and she tended to reduce terms used in the vernacular to their military equivalent. “Yeah. But what else is new?”

She stared at him, both hands on her hips now. “Really? You have to ask this question?” She rolled her eyes when he remained silent. “You, boss. You’re what’s new. The way you’re looking at this situation, the way you’re reacting. This girl’s gotten to you. Why her after all the other stuff your old man has done, I don’t know. But you’ve changed.”

He shook his head. “No. No, I haven’t, Heidi. If I had, I wouldn’t be sitting here with these papers on my desk.”

Heidi snorted. “Yes, you have. The old Chance would have filed the paperwork the first day and served the girl at her daddy’s funeral. The old Chance would not sit here stewing over what an alpha hotel his father is, and the old Chance would not care one whit that he was following in his old man’s footsteps. But here you are.” She shook her head and started to wag her finger one more time but resisted. “I’m going home. Turn out the lights when you leave, boss.”

In the silence following her departure, Chance swiveled his chair to stare out the window behind his desk. The Barron Building, all forty stories of it, dominated the skyline. From his view on the thirty-sixth floor, the southwestern expanses of the metroplex unfolded before him. He picked out the historic Farmer’s Market building and beyond it, Stockyard City. The phone on his desk rang, but he ignored it. It was still ringing when his cell phone started. He didn’t have to check his caller ID. At least one brother would be calling, probably two. Or worse, Cassie’s number would stare back at him.

He’d done what they wanted—distanced himself from her. He listened to her messages—for a while at least—craving some tiny connection to her. Then he had to delete them without listening. Her voice tore his heart to shreds, and it took every ounce of self-discipline to keep from driving to the Crazy M to claim her.

Why did he have to choose between his family and the wonderful woman who’d captured his heart? But he knew the answer whenever he looked in the mirror. Take away everything else, he was a Barron. Through and through. Dammit. And when it came to women, being a Barron guaranteed the lady in question would get hurt.

* * *

Cass wore the same austere suit she’d worn to her dad’s funeral. The sleeves bunched a little, and she realized all the physical labor she’d done lately had changed her body—slimmed some of the curves and packed on muscle. That wasn’t a bad thing.

An office door opened, and she sat up straighter, but the woman who emerged ignored her, walking straight to the front of the bank.

Cass settled back against the uncomfortable chair and wondered again why she was doing this. She hated the ranch. The life didn’t suit her at all. She wanted to sleep late on the weekends. Go out to dinner. Work in an office where her friends gossiped about the latest celebrity breakups and makeups, the hot new television show, the ugly dresses on the red carpet. Except she didn’t care about those things. Not really.

Another door opened and she leaned forward, peering down the long hallway. A man stepped out and headed away from her. She glanced at the wall clock above the receptionist’s head. Eleven o’clock. Two hours she’d waited. So far. The loan officer had already passed her up the chain to the bank president—who was stalling her. Surely he would leave for lunch. If she couldn’t get in to see him before, she’d grab him on his way out.

At 12:15, a pizza delivery guy showed up with eight boxes. Pepperoni. Onions. Tomato sauce and baked cheese. The scents blended together, and her stomach growled. Offices emptied, the occupants all rushing down the hall to what she figured was a conference room. A security guard arrived and sat at the receptionist’s desk. He glowered at her from time to time.

At four, she was thirsty, hungry, in desperate need of the restroom, but unwilling to give up. The man had to go home sometime. The phone on the desk buzzed, and the girl picked it up.

“Yessir... No, sir. Hasn’t moved... Sitting here all day... Yessir.” The receptionist covered up the speaker end of the receiver. “Mr. Leonard can’t see you today. You might as well go home.”

“I’ll stay in case he has a cancellation in his schedule. And I’ll just be back tomorrow. Tell him I’m not going away.”

The girl sighed dramatically, swiveled her chair so that her back was turned and whispered into the phone. A door at the very far end of the hall opened. “Mr. Leonard can give you ten minutes. But that’s all.”

Cass jumped to her feet and all but jogged down the hall. Leonard sat behind his desk looking distinctly uncomfortable. He’d rolled his sleeves down but they looked rumpled, and he’d made no pretense at straightening his tie. His florid face glistened with a sheen of sweat despite the cold air venting from the overworked air conditioner.

“I can’t help you,” he began without preamble.

“How do you know? I haven’t asked for anything.”