Cowgirls Don't Cry(82)

                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?”