The man on the other end of the phone line cleared his throat. The nervous sound made Cass wonder what was going on. “You don’t have another contract, do you?” He cleared his throat again but didn’t speak. “Why? If you thought so highly of my dad, why won’t you haul the cattle for me?”
“It’s not you, hon.”
“Then what is it?”
“Not what. Who.” She heard him take several deep breaths. “Look, I can’t say anything more. I’m sorry. Things are what they are, and sometimes a workin’ man has no choice. Please don’t call me again.”
The phone clicked and after a moment of dead air, a dial tone echoed in her ear. “Now what the heck was that all about?”
Boots looked up from his paper, the crinkles around his eyes looking sad. “I was afraid that’s what was happenin’.”
“What?” Her voice sounded sharper than she intended, but she was so frustrated she wanted to punch something. “Do you know what’s going on, Uncle Boots?”
“It’s a long story, honey, and I’m not positive, but I have a suspicion that a man by the name of Cyrus Barron has thrown a monkey wrench into things.”
Everyone knew that name but she asked to be sure. “As in Barron Oil?”
“And Barron Land and Cattle Company.”
“And Barron Entertainment?” Her voice squeaked a little.
“That would be him.”
“But...why in the hell would he care about me hauling five hundred head of cattle to market?”
“I told you it’s a long story, honey. There’s somethin’ maybe you need t’know about the Barrons...”
Before he could continue, Buddy jumped up and began barking madly. He hit the door and banged the unlatched screen open. A muffled voice greeted the dog and then boots on the wooden porch preceded a knock on the door.
* * *
“May I come in?”
Cassie’s voice sounded resigned as she answered. “C’mon in, Chance.”
He held the door and followed the dog inside. Her eyes looked bruised and something in his chest shifted. Chance glanced at the pile of papers in front of her before his gaze slid over to Boots. “Everything okay?”
“No.”
Chance wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms. She looked so fragile...so beaten. “What’s happened?”
Her frustration bubbled over. “I can’t get anyone to transport my cattle to market.”
He replied carefully. “It’s spring. Everyone’s shipping their feeder calves.”
She shook her head, adamant when she added, “No. They don’t have trucks available to me.”
Chance cleared his throat and glanced away. “That doesn’t...make sense.”
“You haven’t been talking to these people, listening to their lame excuses. I’m not paranoid.” She thumped the table. “I’ve called everyone listed in Dad’s files.”