Cowgirls Don't Cry

by Silver James

  Cord wouldn’t look at her, but his shoulders rose in what might be a negligent shrug. “Yesterday, I would have said yeah. The old man always gets what he wants. But today? I don’t know.” He reined his horse around and headed toward the rear of the herd before she could reply.

  She touched spurs to Red’s sides, and the big horse quickened his pace. If Cyrus Barron was waiting to stop her at the end of this, by golly she’d be front and center to confront him.

  Boots glanced at her as she joined him. “About time you got up here.”

  She laughed, but it sounded mirthless. “How did this get so out of control, Uncle Boots?”

  “People, honey. People always complicate matters. But we’re almost there.”

  Their horses’ hooves clopped on the asphalt as they stepped off the curb. Sheriff’s cruisers had the street blocked at the off ramp from I-40, and the way was clear to the south. Almost as if sensing the end was near, horses and cattle all picked up the pace. The gateway arch stretched above the street ahead of them. A cowboy on horseback and a long-horned steer bracketed the words “Stockyard City” displayed across the metal span. As she passed beneath it, Cass breathed again. This was it. They’d done it. People lined the street while cameras—digital, phone and video—all preserved the moment for posterity.

  “Cass!”

  She glanced over in the direction the voice came from. Chance! He stood on the bumper of a pickup truck waving at her. And then the sweetest sound in the world reached her ears—Buddy’s excited barks. Her chest swelled with so much happiness she might burst wide open. Her grin spread from ear to ear. She probably looked like a complete idiot but didn’t care.

  Cord trotted up from behind her and rode past, tipping the brim of his hat as he went by. He stopped in front of Chance and dismounted. The brothers exchanged places, Chance mounting the horse, and Cord taking charge of Buddy. The men shook hands. Cord said something Cass couldn’t hear, but it must have been about her because Chance turned to look at her. Then he smiled, and nothing else mattered.

  Police and the fire department had Exchange Boulevard to the east and Agnew to the south blocked off. The cattle had no place to go but turn right and head straight to the National Stockyards. Cheering people lined both sides of the street and surprisingly, the cattle didn’t seem bothered by all the hoopla. Cass tamped down her excitement. Until those steers were penned, went through the auction tomorrow morning and she had a check to give Cyrus Barron, she couldn’t celebrate.

  Chance risked a quick touch on her arm as he rode knee to knee with her. Buddy woofed and wagged his tail, his head hanging out of the pickup truck window as Cord carefully drove by them.

  “The pup had some bruised ribs, and his right hip is tender where he landed on it. The vet says as long as Buddy takes it easy, he’ll be fine.”

  She inhaled and blew out a little puff of air. “Thank you.”

  He glanced at her. “For what?”

  “For everything. For taking care of Buddy. For helping despite everything...” Her voice trailed off and left hanging just what that everything comprised. In her head, she finished the thought—despite her mistrust, her anger, her accusations.

  “You had every right, Cass. I wasn’t completely honest with you. And I’m truly sorry for that. I won’t lie to you again. Not ever.”

  She flashed him a cocky grin. “Can I have that in writing and notarized, Mr. Lawyer Guy?”

  He chuckled but choked off the sound as he stared at the knot of people waiting ahead. A beefy man in Western clothes, his sleeves rolled up to reveal brawny forearms, his hat pushed back off his forehead, argued vehemently with a tall, distinguished man wearing a tailored suit that cost more than many people made in a month.

  Damn. The old man was back from Vegas. He glanced at Cass and offered her a smile. Things were going to get ugly in a heartbeat.

  “Are you going to tell me everything will be all right?”

  “No.”

  “Good. So what are you going to tell me?”

  “That’s my father up there. I suspect the other man is the sales manager of the stockyards. If the old man stays true to form, he’s threatening all sorts of dire consequences about now.”

  “Then we’d better go face whatever those consequences are.” She clucked to her horse and trotted forward.

  Chance followed at a jog. Cord had parked nearby and Buddy was there, hackles raised, ears back. He could almost feel the growl forming in the dog’s chest as he reined to a stop next to Cassie.

  “I don’t give a damn, Mr. Barron. The last time I looked, your name wasn’t on the bottom of my paycheck. You can scream and cuss all you want but since you don’t own this place, I’m not about to turn away any cattle brought here for sale.”

  Camera crews homed in on the altercation, and Chance winced. The family would need a lot of damage control after the news tonight. The old man, red in the face and sputtering, jabbed his finger in the man’s chest.

  “I will own this miserable excuse for a sale barn, and I will fire your insolent ass. I will shut this place down and fire everyone even remotely associated with the stockyards. Do you understand me?”

  Cyrus Barron straightened to his full height and looked for all the world like some old revival preacher raining fire and brimstone on his congregation. No one had called his bluff in ages. He pulled out his phone, called his assistant and snarled terse instructions Chance didn’t hear but could imagine. With a cold, calculating smile, Cyrus faced the sales manager, ignoring Cass and Chance. The standoff lasted what felt like an hour but was ten minutes in reality. The herd bunched up in the street, and people waited breathlessly.

  The manager’s cell phone rang. He answered, his face draining of color as he listened. He stammered and hemmed but in the end, he ducked his head and mumbled something. Turning on his heel, he walked back to his wranglers and told them to shut the gates and go home. The stockyards had closed for the day.

  The old man turned his cold smile on Cass, and adrenaline surged through Chance’s body, leaving his fingers and toes tingling and burning.

  “I’m disappointed in you.”

  Chance straightened his shoulders as the old man focused on him. He was pretty sure the smirk he plastered on his face was a mirror image of the one his father wore. “Makes two of us. This has gone far enough, Cyrus.”

  “Indeed it has. I’ve already instructed my attorneys to remove you from the trust.”

  Cass gasped but he ignored her. If he broke eye contact now, the old man would think he’d won, and Chance wasn’t about to let that happen. His expression didn’t change. “It will be an interesting court battle, considering I’m the one who drew up the trust papers in the first place. Did you ever read them, Cyrus? Or did you just sign them?”

  There. There was the flicker in the old man’s eyes he’d been waiting for. He’d learned the art of confrontation from the master himself. He quirked one corner of his mouth. “Oh, I forgot rule number one. If you can’t trust family, you can’t trust family. You should have remembered that one, Cyrus.”

  “It’s too late for your little who—”

  Lightning fast, his fists wrapped in the lapels of his father’s suit. “Don’t go there, Old Man. You say what’s on the tip of your tongue, I’ll happily spend the night in jail for knocking the crap out of you.”

  Cyrus glared but didn’t finish the sentence. “It’s still too late, son. She can’t make the balloon payment on that loan unless she sells those steers by five o’clock tomorrow afternoon. And that will not happen.”

  “Yes, it will. I’ll buy the cattle from her.”

  Chance and his father whipped their heads around at the new voice. The crowd grew silent as anticipation filled the air. The newcomer ignored Cyrus and walked over to Cass, where she’d remained mounted.

 
“Miss Morgan, I’m J. Rand Davis.”

  As his gaze darted between the man and Cass, Chance had to stifle a laugh. If there was a man Cyrus Barron hated even more than Ben Morgan, it had to be Joseph Randolph Davis. They’d been rival wildcatters back in the early days of the oil boom; now both of them were among the richest men in the country.

  Cass dismounted and offered her hand. “Mr. Davis, I suspect it’s going to be my pleasure to meet you.”

  “I certainly hope so.” He glanced at his smartphone, checked a couple of screens then smiled at her. “According to the closing spot prices on the Chicago Commodities Exchange, prime grass-fed Black Angus cattle are going for a hundred and forty-seven.”

  Chance did a quick mental calculation. The price was per hundredweight and given the size and quality of Cass’s steers, she’d make over five hundred thousand dollars. Cass looked stunned as she also did the math.

  “I have trucks lined up, and we’ll get a final weight on ’em but I’m prepared to hand you a certified check for three hundred thousand dollars as a down payment. Once the weigh-in is final, I will cut another check for the remainder.”

  Cass glanced over at Chance, her eyes wide with surprise. It was enough to pay off the note. He nodded to her. “It’s a fair price, Cass. And I figure Mr. Davis is good for the rest.”

  She offered her hand, and Davis shook it. He handed over a check and she glanced at it, stared for a long moment, blinked and barely resisted doing a happy dance right there in the middle of the street.

  Davis spoke up immediately. “Knowing Cyrus like I do, I didn’t want to take any chances that he’d wiggle out of the deal.” He reached for the inside breast pocket of his sport coat and pulled out some folded papers. “Here’s the bill of sale with the terms and deadline for payment of the additional funds”

  Cass accepted them and with a confused expression, glanced over at Chance. “Will you look it over?”

  He took the papers and unfolded them as Davis added, “Look it over, Chancellor. If Miss Baxter agrees, she can sign it and we’ll start loading these steers.”

  Chance read through them, his practiced eye picking out the important parts. Everything was just as Mr. Davis had outlined. He handed the sheaf of papers back to Cass as Davis passed his pen to her. She took the time to read every page, and Chance couldn’t help the grin forming. She glanced at him finally and he nodded. She signed, using his back.

  Chance had almost forgotten about his father until the old man snorted. “You wait, Rand Davis. You think you’ve won this time, but I guarantee this thing isn’t over between us.” Then he turned a baleful stare on Chance. “As for you, I’ll deal with you later.”

  Davis offered a frosty smile. “Careful what you threaten, Cyrus.”

  The old man spun around and stomped off to his chauffeured Lincoln. In a matter of minutes, the stockyard wranglers reappeared, opened the gates to some loading pens, and the herd was moved off the street. A spontaneous celebration erupted behind them, but Chance and Cass remained with Mr. Davis, watching as the cattle were transferred up the chutes and loaded into the waiting trucks.

  Chance watched one of the richest oilmen in the world chat with the woman he loved. Three months ago, on that snowy Chicago night, he would never have guessed he’d be standing on a dusty street in Stockyard City watching this scene.

  But then, all of a sudden, Davis clamped his mouth shut in the middle of a sentence, and his eyes narrowed in anger. Chance turned around, thinking his father had returned.

  To his surprise, Cord stood there like a deer caught in headlights. The two men stared at each other, and Chance couldn’t help but compare the standoff to a scene from a Western movie—the gunfighters on Main Street, fingers flexing over the handles of their six-shooters, each waiting for the other to make a move. He’d never seen his brother look so unnerved.

  After a long, tense moment, Davis turned his head and focused his attention on Cassie. “I’ll have the certified check for the rest of the money delivered to you tomorrow, Miss Morgan.”

  She offered her hand again, after wiping it down her thigh. As dusty as her jeans appeared, she probably didn’t clean much dirt off, but she made the effort. “Thank you again, Mr. Davis. I...” On impulse, she raised up on her toes and planted a quick kiss on his cheek. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

  Davis shook his head and glanced toward Chance. “No, honey. I think you had all the help you needed right there at your side.” He offered his hand to Chance. “You take care of this little lady.”

  Chance shook hands with Rand. “I will, sir.” He slipped his arm around Cassie’s shoulders and hugged her closer to his side. “You did it, darlin’.”

  She smiled up at him. “No. We did it. I’m sorry I ever doubted you.”

  He shook his head. “Don’t apologize. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could stand up to the old man. But you made me want to. Your belief in me, Cass. That’s what gave me the courage.”

  He caught movement in the corner of his eye and turned just in time to see Davis stop in front of Cord. The two men exchanged what appeared to be heated words until Chance realized something was off about Cord’s posture. His shoulders drooped a little, and while he hadn’t bowed his head, he wasn’t quite looking Mr. Davis in the eye, either.

  “Now what the hell is that all about?”

  Cass leaned around him to watch. “I...wow. Cord almost looks cowed. He’s definitely on the defensive.”

  Davis walked away but Cord stood rooted to the spot. Chance wrapped his fingers around Cassie’s hand and tugged her with him as he approached his brother. “Cord?”

  “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? What’s going on?”

  “Nothing.”

  “That didn’t look like nothing to me.”

  “Leave it be, Chance. It’s...”

  Cass squeezed his arm before he could speak again. “Not now, Chance.”

  Cord flashed her an appreciative look then turned on a high-wattage smile. Chance knew that look. Cord had dodged some sort of bullet, but that was okay. He’d eventually pin down his brother to find out what that discussion had been about.

  The stockyards manager approached and cleared his throat. “Sorry to interrupt, folks, but the last cow has been loaded. Five hundred on the nose, Miss Morgan. Mr. Davis already paid the loading fees. If you’ll just sign this receipt, we’re all done.” He thrust a battered aluminum clipboard in her direction, and she scribbled her name across the bottom. The man made a show of tearing off the receipt and handed it to her with a flourish.

  “Congratulations, ma’am. We were all rooting for you.”

  Chance glanced at her upturned face, and his heart lurched. Damn but he loved this woman. “You did it, Cass. I am so freaking proud of you, I’m about to bust. I love you, darlin’, with everything I am.”

  Cord punched him on the arm. “Well, don’t just stand there, little brother. Kiss the girl.”

  Epilogue

  Cass adjusted the blue garter on her thigh then slipped her foot into the Justin Western boot. She flounced the full skirt of her wedding dress and turned around. Her maid of honor and two bridesmaids had crystal champagne flutes in their hands ready to toast her nuptials. She glanced at the other person in the room. Boots had a finger stuck between his buttoned-up collar and his neck, trying to stretch the shirt. With a knowing smile, she adjusted his silver-and-black bolo tie. “As soon as you walk me down the aisle, Uncle Boots, you can unbutton. Promise.”

  The old man muttered something under his breath, and she had to bite back her giggle. She felt giddy, her thoughts scattered as her nerves thrummed in anticipation.

  After selling the herd, Chance had handed over the deed to the Crazy M, admitting he’d already paid off the loan. She’d insisted on paying him back and did so
five minutes before he dropped to a knee and asked her to marry him.

  She smiled at the memory.

  She squelched the one niggling thought that she was about to make the worst mistake of her life. She must be insane to join Cyrus Barron’s family by her own free will. But if she was crazy, she didn’t care.

  “Answer me one thing, baby girl.”

  She shook the negative thoughts from her mind and focused on Boots. “Yes?”

  “Would your life be better without him?”

  A nervous laugh burbled up before she could catch it. “What? Are you reading my mind now?”

  “Be honest, Cassidy Anne. With me, but most important with yourself. If you walked away now, would you look back in relief or regret?”

  She stared out the window. Knots of people gathered on the lawn in front of the chapel. She glimpsed what looked like a rugby scrum—the Barron brothers. They’d all come to support Chance, and each one of them had privately offered her friendship and brotherhood. She couldn’t breathe for a minute, and her vision fogged. When it cleared, she saw only Chance standing there surrounded by his family. Business-wise, he’d put his foot down. His law firm was his and not part of Barron Enterprises, though he continued to represent the family’s various entities. Chance had talked things through with her before he agreed to remain as the Barron’s legal counsel. He glanced toward the window almost as if he knew she watched.

  “That answers my question.”

  Startled from her reverie she turned to stare at Boots. “What? I didn’t say anything.”

  “You didn’t have to, Cassie. The smile on your face said it all. Now let’s get this rodeo goin’ before I strangle in this monkey suit.”

  * * *

  Chance stood at the front of the church looking outwardly calm, but he felt as if he was on a sinking life raft in a raging storm. Cord stood on his left, along with his other brothers. Heidi and her husband occupied the front pew of the small chapel, along with the caretaker couple who’d practically raised the brothers, Beth and John Sanders. Cyrus Barron hadn’t bothered to attend, not that he was surprised. The rest of his family stood up for him, though, and that’s all that mattered.