Cowgirls Don't Cry

by Silver James

  “That would be me. Who are you?”

  He walked up and waved an envelope under her nose. “Here.”

  She refused to take it. “What’s that?”

  He stuffed it down the front of her shirt. “You’ve been served.”

  “What?” Cass dug the envelope out of her shirt and tore it open. She read the heading, “In the District Court of the County of Oklahoma, State of Oklahoma.” Her eyes skipped down, caught her name and the name of the bank, followed by the words “wholly owned subsidiary of Barron Enterprises” before focusing on the first paragraph. “What the hell?”

  “That, Miss Morgan, is a foreclosure notice. Everything on this ranch now belongs to Barron Enterprises by way of Stockmen’s Bank and Trust.”

  She stared at him, her mouth gaping. She shook her head and bit back the curses she wanted to spew in his direction. Instead, she read the notice. “This is bull. It says there’s a hearing set for next Monday. I have until then to present collateral assets or to pay off the loan.” She thought. The legal terms were jumbled in her head and then she remembered. Chance! He was an attorney.

  Before she could call him over, the process server called out. “Mr. Barron! I didn’t see you, sir.”

  Mr. Barron? There was a Barron on her property? She whipped her head around to see who the man was talking to.

  One look at Chance’s face and she knew.

  Oh, God. His last name—the one she’d assumed was Chancellor—was Barron. Her heart shriveled in her chest, and she couldn’t breathe. Only sheer stubbornness kept her standing.

  “Chance?” His name tumbled out before she could stop herself. “Please...tell me this isn’t happening.” But she knew. Her head knew even as her heart tried to hide from the pain. His expression said it all. Her stomach knotted, and she swallowed hard to keep the bile rising in her throat at bay.

  “Cassidy.” Her name, a whisper from his lying lips, sighed on the morning breeze.

  God, but she was stupid. Chance. Chancellor Barron. Even in Chicago she’d heard the names of all the Barron brothers. How had she not recognized him? Would it have mattered? She’d wanted him that night in his condo, and again in the barn and every other time they’d been together. She’d wanted him, and she’d allowed herself to fall in love with him.

  “Please, Cassie...” Her name dripped off his tongue like honey, and he tried to look sincere and repentant but she didn’t buy his act for a minute.

  “Please Cassie what? Please Cassie let me steal your home? Or please Cassie let me screw you one more time?” She wadded up the paper in her hand and threw it at his face. She scored a direct hit, but he didn’t even flinch. “Get the hell off my land.”

  He grabbed her forearm and squeezed just hard enough she couldn’t jerk away. Cass stared down at his hand—tanned, strong and belonging to a liar. She was such a fool. One night of mind-blowing sex with him and he’d gotten under her skin—and into her heart. And that one night had turned into so much more. She’d started dreaming—of him, of life with him here on the ranch. She loved him. Or did. Before he betrayed her. Her face flushed with anger as she raised her gaze to collide with his.

  “Please, Cassie. Let me explain.”

  “Move it or lose it, Mr. Barron.”

  If anything, his grip tightened, and for a moment, she got lost in his amber eyes. Then she remembered he was nothing more than a predator. A snake. A...she didn’t want to malign innocent members of the animal kingdom so she called a spade a spade. “Let me go, you bastard. You lied to me. And you cheated me. I...I thought you cared. About me. About the ranch. God, how could I have been so damned wrong about you? About...us.”

  Her voice cracked, and his grip loosened slightly. She jerked her arm out of his grasp, no longer caring that her voice quivered. “Get away from me, Chance. I hate you. I hate everything you stand for. I’ll put a certified check for the full amount of the loan on your desk by five o’clock Friday afternoon. I have a herd of cattle to get to market so get the hell out of my way.”

  She turned on her heel and marched over to Boots where he stood holding the reins of her horse. She snatched them and stood glaring at him.

  “You knew.” Oh yeah, he knew all right. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I was waitin’ for him t’do the right thing.”

  “Seriously? He’s a friggin’ Barron, Uncle Boots.” She dashed at her eyes with the back of her hand. She’d be damned if she shed tears over Chance Barron. Not now. Not ever. “He wouldn’t know the right thing if it walked up and bit him on the ass.”

  Cass swung up on the big sorrel, and settled into the saddle. Boots touched her knee.

  “I’m sorry, baby girl.”

  She closed her eyes and fought for control as Boots mounted his horse. The man never did anything without a good reason. Someday, maybe she wouldn’t hurt so much, and she could talk about it. Not now. Now she had a herd to deliver.

  Buddy barked and quivered with excitement. She glanced at her handful of drovers and though she tried not to, she had to glance at Chance. He hadn’t moved and his face looked as if it had been carved from granite for all the emotion he showed. Fine. She didn’t need him. Twenty miles from the ranch to the stockyards with five hundred head of cattle. If she pulled this off, it would be a miracle. She had to be as crazy as a grasshopper sunbathing on a red ant pile.

  Fourteen

  Chance recognized the stubborn jut of her chin and had to admire her despite the fact he pretty much hated himself as much as she claimed to hate him. She’d mounted her horse with controlled elegance and didn’t take out her obvious anger on the sorrel. The grim set of her mouth didn’t diminish her beauty. She wheeled Red around to face the people who’d gathered.

  Despite angry looks from other bystanders, he stepped back to the front fender of his truck to watch. This moment belonged to Cassie. He might have destroyed any hope for a relationship but he still cared, still loved her. Cyrus Barron would never be able to take his feelings for her away. Chance had wanted her to have this moment of glory, even if it turned into a last hurrah. He would track down who tried to rob it from her.

  “This is it,” she called. “Cyrus Barron has decided I’m public enemy number one. Some of you might not want to get on his bad side. I’ll understand if you drop out. No hard feelings. But I’m mad as hell, and I’m going to prove to that old bastard that he can knock me down, but I won’t stay in the dirt.”

  She straightened her shoulders and stood in her stirrups. “My daddy didn’t know what giving up meant. I’m not about to let him down now. I have four days to get these cows to the stockyards and by God, I’m gonna get ’em there come hell, high water or the damned Barron family!”

  Cheers answered her, and he couldn’t suppress the feeling of pride welling inside him. And apprehension. If he knew his father, she would have both hell and high water to deal with.

  She laughed, but it sounded mirthless in the fading echoes of the shouts of the drovers. “I’ve always wanted to say this! Head ’em up! Move ’em out!”

  Chance waited until the last steer and the drag riders disappeared up the road. Two men patched the fence, and Nadine rolled up the awning on her RV. She walked over and leaned on the truck fender next to him.

  “You should’a told her.” The woman gazed eastward where a red haze still hung in the still air.

  “Probably.” He watched the same dust cloud.

  “You care about her.”

  “Probably.” Hell, yeah, he cared. He loved her. But he couldn’t admit it. Not out loud. He’d told Cass and look what happened. He hung his head and refused to meet Nadine’s knowing gaze.

  “So what are you going to do about it?”

  “Damned if I know, Nadine.”

  She chuckled and smacked his arm. He resisted the urge to
rub the spot. For a woman her age, she still carried quite a punch. “Then it’s high time you figured it out, Chancellor Barron. She’s worth fightin’ for.”

  Nadine walked away before he could reply. He watched her climb into the big RV then maneuver it over the rutted yard. Once she had the nose of the vehicle pointed in the right direction, she tooted the horn and waved at him as she headed off.

  His phone vibrated on his hip. Tempted to ignore it, he checked the caller ID anyway. His brother Cash.

  “What?”

  “Did I catch you in the middle of something?”

  “What do you want, Cash?”

  “If I’d known you were going to be at the Morgan place this morning, I could have saved money on the process server.”

  “You’re the one who sent him out here?”

  “Well...yeah. The old man said you were busy. Since you hadn’t done it yet, he had the papers filed yesterday and wanted them served first thing.”

  “Yeah, I just bet he did.”

  “Whoa, Chance. You sound pissed.”

  “I am.”

  “Hey, I was just following the old man’s orders. You want to tell me what’s going on?”

  “No. But fair warning, Cash. You ever again go behind my back to serve papers without my go-ahead, you’ll regret it.” He stabbed the end button on his phone and tossed it onto the center console of the truck. Within seconds, it danced across the leather. He ignored it. Gazing around, he realized his family might have more money than many small countries, but Cass Morgan was far richer.

  * * *

  After three days on the trail, Cass would give just about anything she owned for a hot shower lasting longer than five minutes. It was hard to do much more than sluice off the surface dust in the tepid water and confined space of the tiny shower in Nadine’s RV. Her hair hung dull and limp when she removed the ponytail holder.

  A new set of volunteers had arrived each day to help as drovers and outriders. The nightly camps had a holiday air as folks visited and relaxed once the herd was settled for the night. She wished she could unwind and enjoy their camaraderie. But she couldn’t. Not until the herd was delivered, sold, and she had the check in her hand.

  The RV was parked on the expansive lot of a suburban acreage. A catering truck from a local BBQ restaurant was on site with a smoker. The scent of roasting beef wafted in the open window. With a grimace at how nasty her hair felt as she combed it with her fingers, she smoothed it back and refastened it into a ponytail. Navigating down the narrow aisle, Cassie smiled at the cowboy chic decor and squeezed past the older woman puttering at the stove. The motorhome was pure Nadine.

  Cass pushed the screen door open, stepped out and ran smack dab into a very masculine body.

  Chance’s hands steadied her until she regained her balance. She scowled at him. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “We need to talk, Cass.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “Yes, we do. I had to take care of some things or I would have been here sooner.”

  She wanted to thump his chest with her fist. Or slap him. “Go away, Chance. I don’t need or want you.”

  “Look, you have every reason to be upset—”

  “Ya think? You lied to me.”

  “No. Not technically speaking.”

  “What? You lied about your name.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Yes, you did.”

  “No. When I first introduced myself, I said my name was Chancellor. You jumped the gun and assumed it was my last name.”

  “Well, you weren’t in any hurry to correct that assumption, were you?” He flushed at that, and she pressed home her point. “And you never made any attempt to set me straight.”

  “Technically, you never asked for clarification, Cass.”

  She blinked at him, opened her mouth and closed it, at a loss for words for a moment. “Technically? Freaking lawyer. I shouldn’t have had to. You led me on, Chance. You let me believe you were somebody else. Somebody I could—”

  She snapped her jaw shut. She would never admit to this man how much she had trusted him, how much he had hurt her. She let him hurt her by caring about him. By...no. She refused to acknowledge that she loved him.

  Chance hung his head and looked penitent. She didn’t believe the pose for a New York minute. “Cass, please? I can explain. Things are different now.”

  “Different? You mean you didn’t actually file a foreclosure action for your father? That you don’t mean to steal the ranch from me? Throw me out on my butt? Jeez, Chance. You can’t even admit that I was nothing but a piece of ass to you.” Her eyelids prickled, but she’d be damned if she’d cry.

  “Don’t be mad, Cass. Just listen to me.”

  “Mad? I don’t get mad, Chance Barron. I get even.”

  She pushed past him with a growl, ignoring his outstretched hand, and stomped over to the campfire where Boots and the volunteer wranglers sat. Only Boots had the guts to look at her. She stamped her foot, her face flaming from anger. “Ooh. That man makes me crazy, Uncle Boots.”

  He patted the folding chair next to him. “Take a load off, honey. I get the feeling that situation goes both ways. You make Chance Barron a little crazy, too.”

  Cass dropped into the chair and stretched her legs out. Inhaling slow, measured breaths, she glanced at the old man from the corner of her eye and caught a flicker of movement. Chance actually had the nerve to walk closer. She reached for the shotgun lying across the ice chest beside her chair and placed it across her thighs. Not that she’d actually use it. Chance took another step, and she checked the breach to see if the gun was loaded.

  Boots chuckled as Chance retreated without turning his back. “Discretion is the better part of valor, I guess.”

  She watched Chance retreat. “What the hell does that mean, Uncle Boots?”

  “It means you’ve got the man tied up in knots, honey. He wants you. Wants you enough to stand up to his daddy to get you.” Boots inclined his head toward the picket line, the rope stretched between two trees where the trail horses were loosely tied for the night. He watched her face to make sure she paid attention. A television reporter and cameraman interviewed one of her volunteers, who was brushing his horse, for the evening news. “Who do you think alerted the media? Why do you think we suddenly got all this attention and more riders?”

  “Ha! I don’t believe that at all.”

  Nadine stuck her head out of the RV. “Well, you better believe it, Cassie. They got a call from Chance’s office, least ways that’s what the producer feller told me. Your story is all over the news. Here and nationally. All the networks picked it up. Considering Cyrus Barron owns the newspapers around here and a bunch of TV and radio stations, just how else do you think the national folks tumbled to this little shindig?”

  Cass leaned back in the chair and swiveled her head just far enough to keep track of Chance. He’d walked back to his pickup truck and leaned against the front fender talking to another man just as tall, dark and handsome. Had to be one of his brothers but for her life, she didn’t know which one.

  “Why would he do that?”

  “He loves you.”

  “He’s in love.”

  Boots said it first, but Nadine’s assertion echoed a half beat later. No. Nonononono no! This wasn’t happening. Chance Barron didn’t love her. He couldn’t. He just wanted the ranch so his father could erase all memory of Ben Morgan from the face of the earth.

  Cass had finally finagled the full story out of Boots—how Cyrus had pursued her mom but she’d married her dad instead. She couldn’t fathom why a man as rich and powerful as the senior Barron carried such a long-standing grudge. Three hard days in the saddle had rubbed the furious off her temper, though she remained miffed at the old man for no
t telling her Chance’s real identity.

  Boots’s revelation over Chance’s feelings left her own unsteady. When she realized her hand was still curled around the shotgun, she carefully placed it back on the ice chest.

  “No. I can’t deal with this. Not now. I have five hundred head of cattle to get to market. And one more day to get it done.”

  “We’ve made good distance, Cass. We only have about five miles to go.”

  She closed her eyes and laid her head back against the chair. “It might as well be a thousand, Uncle Boots. We hit the county line tomorrow. You know Cyrus Barron will have every deputy in Oklahoma County lined up to keep us out. Even though I managed to get the permits from Oklahoma County, I don’t believe for a second they’ll be worth the paper they’re printed on. Even if the sheriff and his deputies don’t stop us, there’ll be the whole Oklahoma City Police Department waiting at the city limits. The Barrons always get their way.”

  “You forget, hon. The media will be there, too. Sheriff Wallace is up for reelection. You’re a huge story.” Hands on her ample hips, Nadine climbed down the steps and stopped right in front of Cass. “You’re the underdog. The pretty little girl takin’ on the big bads with a ragtag group of volunteers. From the information the national outlets are reporting? You can bet someone on the inside spilled the beans. Mr. Chance Barron, in fact.”

  Cass shook her head, unable to believe Chance would stand up to his father. “What’s in it for him?”

  Nadine chuckled. “A pretty little blonde who hog-tied his heart.”

  “No. There’s something more. He doesn’t love me. If he loved me, he wouldn’t have lied. And he damn sure wouldn’t have betrayed me like he did.”

  The rumbling bass thrum of a diesel engine caught her attention. Chance and the man he was with had climbed into the pickup. She watched as Chance carefully backed the truck onto the road and headed east. The bright lights of Oklahoma City shone like jewels scattered on a pair of faded jeans.

  Yeah. He loved her all right. He’d tucked his tail between his legs and slunk off like the dirty dog he was.