“Yes, ma’am. Mister Cal was the current Mr. Barron’s daddy. Mr. Cal was sure anxious t’get those cows to the railhead. Story goes they were all sittin’ around drinkin’, and those boys decided they’d have an old-fashioned trail drive. So they did. Took ’em nigh on two weeks but we pushed that herd from Mr. Barron’s ranch up on the North Canadian River and right down into the stockyards. The newspaper came out and took pictures. Some radio guy from back East came out to interview folks.”
Cass glanced at him. “Wait... You said we? You rode with them?” She leaned closer to the picture, studying it.
He tapped the back corner, and she squinted at the grainy photo. She could just make out a chuck wagon in the background. A man with dark skin stood beside it while a little boy waved from the wagon’s seat.
“My pop was the chuck wagon cook, and I got t’tag along. That was quite an adventure for a kid like me.”
She smiled and resisted the urge to kiss his cheek. “Thank you.”
The crinkles smoothed from his face as his expression turned curious. “For what?”
“For your excellent BBQ. For coming out here to talk to me. For...for giving me the faith that maybe I can do what needs to be done. I gotta go!”
She dashed out to the old truck, climbed in and pulled out her phone. Cass stared at it, gulping in long breaths as she attempted to quell her excitement. “Daddy, we might just be able to pull this off. With a lot of help.” She’d give Chance one more...chance. She chuckled at the irony, but was barely able to breathe around the anticipation. When she got his voice mail, she didn’t care. Her enthusiasm bubbled over as she left a garbled message, not even aware when it clicked off automatically.
Eleven
Chance’s fingers curled into fists as he stared at his phone. He’d resisted the urge to answer, but had to listen to this voice mail, had to hear her voice. The message...hurt. She burbled with excitement, the words rushing like a stream tumbling over rocks.
“Saw the banker finally. Sorry sonofagun. He said the bank’s foreclosing, Chance. But it doesn’t matter. I can get the cattle to the stockyards. I know I can. You won’t believe what happened. You know Cyrus Barron? Jeez, that man has more money than Midas. Anyway, I found out something tonight. You won’t believe this. His father did a cattle drive. In the forties. During the war. I can—” The phone cut off.
He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like a boa constrictor had wrapped around him, squeezing all the air out. For a minute, he thought she’d found out about his father. When she continued babbling and her excitement level ratcheted up a notch, he’d tried to listen but the pounding blood in his ears muted any sound. He hit the replay button and listened again, prepared this time.
Cattle drive? During the war? What the hell was she talking about? And more important, what relevance did it have now? He grabbed his phone and hit a speed dial number.
“Oh? So now you decide to talk to me?”
“Shut up, Cord. She knows the bank is foreclosing.”
“Does she know why?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t think so?”
“I don’t know, Cord, and I really don’t care. She called, really excited, and the way she said the old man’s name, I don’t think she knows. But I need some information.”