Cass blew out a huff of air that ruffled her bangs and slumped back the wooden chair. “I don’t understand why. I mean...Dad had a great reputation. He always paid his bills. I can’t even get the bank to call me back about the loan I told you about.”
She snatched a handful of bills and waved them. “The hospital. His doctors. Even the funeral home. I can’t pay anything until those cows sell. And if I can’t get them to market, how the hell can I sell them?” Cassie looked so small and vulnerable Chance wanted to gather her into his arms. A tear spilled from her eye, and she scrubbed at her face, smearing it away. “And that’s not the worst of it.”
He gave up. Striding across the room, he pulled her into his arms and held her. “What else is going on?”
“I...” She shivered and he kissed her temple.
“It’s okay, baby. I have you.”
“My boss called. If I’m not back at my desk tomorrow morning, I’m fired. I have rent due on my place in Chicago, and bills, and I’ve spent almost everything in my checking account keeping things going here until I can get Daddy’s estate settled.”
Chance ground his back teeth together, anchoring his anger to keep it from spilling out. He wanted to hurt someone. His father. Her boss. Himself. He was every bit as guilty as anyone. When she pushed away, he dropped his arms.
“I’ll be fine.” Cass turned on her boot heel and marched to the door. “I need to get away for a while. I’m going for a ride.” She held up her hand, palm facing them like a stop sign. “I’m going alone.”
The screen door banged behind her, and Buddy nosed it. He looked back at the two men and whined. Chance walked over, opened the door far enough for the dog to slip through then let it close with a gentle bump. He watched the angry but broken woman stomp toward the barn and fought the urge to follow her, to take her into his arms and promise her that everything would be fine. As long as his father persisted in this vendetta, nothing would ever be fine for Cassidy Morgan. And now the other shoe had dropped.
“You know who’s behind all this trouble with the cattle?”
Chance continued to stare out the door, refusing to look at Boots. “I have my suspicions.”
“You gonna do anything about it, son? That little gal thinks the world of you, you know.”
Would he? Could he? He’d spent his whole life in his father’s shadow. As the family’s attorney, he’d filed lawsuits and defended them, always putting Cyrus Barron and whatever Barron enterprise first. The old man was always right, and the whole world was wrong if they didn’t agree.
Chance patted his pocket absently, hoping he’d slipped in the bottle of antacids. He hadn’t.
Was Cord right? Was he finally developing a conscience? If so, it was a helluva time. He needed to be detached. Uninvolved. Cold. He’d meant to sleep with Cass, get her out of his system and walk away. But here he stood at the door of her house, watching her run away so she could cry alone. His father would crush her. And he could do nothing but stand by and watch.
“I have to go.” He pushed open the door and stepped onto the porch.
“And here I thought maybe you’d grown a pair.”
He couldn’t even work up a smidge of righteous anger. The man was right. Cassidy Morgan had far more courage than he ever would.
“I’m sorry, Boots.” He mumbled the words as he trudged down the steps. He didn’t know if the other man heard him and didn’t care either way. As he opened the door of his truck, he paused to watch Cass, riding the big sorrel bareback, charge out of the barn and race across the field toward a line of trees. What felt like a steel band constricted his chest, and his pulse hammered in his ears. Maybe he was having a heart attack. That would solve everything, so he almost hoped he was.