good—”
Before he realized what he was doing, Chance reached across the table and grabbed the front of Cash’s shirt, his hand fisting in the folds of expensive Egyptian cotton. “Shut. Up. Cash. I know damn good and well you’ve been tracking me. That ends now. Today. You hear me? I’ll handle this. In my own way and in my own time.”
“No.” The single word cut through the tense atmosphere. Cyrus Barron filled the doorway. “You will do this my way and in my time.”
Chance released Cash and faced his father. The old man looked right through him. His heart pounded as anger surged up from his gut. “Why is this such a big deal?”
“It’s a big deal because I say it is.” Cyrus stalked the rest of the way into the room and stopped at the head of the table. He stared at his middle son, and his face twisted as if he’d stepped in manure. “That old bastard died before I could settle the debt between us so I’ll settle it with his brat.”
Wanting to pound his fists on the desk, or on his father’s face, Chance clenched them at his sides and breathed instead. Forcing his anger down, he looked for the right argument. If the old man figured out Cass was important to him, all bets were off.
“Cassidy Morgan plans to sell the place and return to Chicago. She has a herd of cattle. Once they’re sold, she can pay off her father’s medical bills. We can buy the place from her with one offer and a certified check.” He didn’t back down from his father’s glare.
Cyrus leaned over the table and jammed his finger into Chance’s chest. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from breaking his father’s finger.
“Ben Morgan double-crossed me and stole something important. I vowed then I’d ruin him. It may have taken me almost forty years, but by God I will have my revenge. Now sit down and shut up, Chancellor. You always were the runt of the litter.” His father faced the monitor. “Clayton, you better have that damn Senate committee straightened out on the oil pipeline bill.”
Chance sank onto his chair. Old taunts still hurt, but he wasn’t that little boy anymore. He opened his mouth to continue the argument but snapped it shut as Cord delivered a shift kick to his shins under the conference table. He pressed his lips closed and glared at his father in silence.
“I’ve made a few phone calls,” the old man continued. “That should take care of it. Don’t screw it up, Clayton.”
“No, sir. I won’t.”
Cyrus cast his gaze on his other sons and missed the grimace on Clay’s face. Chance caught it, right before his father’s eyes zeroed in on him again.
“As of now, Ben Morgan’s brat will no longer have a way to get those cows to market.” The cynical smile on his face spoke volumes. Chance braced for the other shoe to drop.
“We’ll foreclose on the property, and she’ll be left with nothing but a crapload of debt. Morgan’s remaining medical bills are over fifty thousand dollars. We’ll come in, sell off everything lock, stock and barrel and throw her and that old SOB Boots Thomas out on their asses.”
Chance’s gut roiled and he fought down a wave of nausea. What the hell was the old man doing? Cass had nothing to do with this ridiculous feud. His father was out to ruin a woman Chance cared about probably more than he should, given the circumstances. He bit his tongue and remained silent. He knew the old man too well, positive there was even more to come. His father pinned him with a cold stare.
“Quit stalling, Chance. I sent you to law school and let you start a law firm for a reason. Now get those papers filed. I want the foreclosure a done deal and everything liquidated.” The old man’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “Well, everything but Legend’s Double Rainbow. That little stud colt will finally be mine, too.” His father dismissed him with a negligent wave of his hand and turned his attention to the others. “Now, what the hell else have
Before he realized what he was doing, Chance reached across the table and grabbed the front of Cash’s shirt, his hand fisting in the folds of expensive Egyptian cotton. “Shut. Up. Cash. I know damn good and well you’ve been tracking me. That ends now. Today. You hear me? I’ll handle this. In my own way and in my own time.”
“No.” The single word cut through the tense atmosphere. Cyrus Barron filled the doorway. “You will do this my way and in my time.”
Chance released Cash and faced his father. The old man looked right through him. His heart pounded as anger surged up from his gut. “Why is this such a big deal?”
“It’s a big deal because I say it is.” Cyrus stalked the rest of the way into the room and stopped at the head of the table. He stared at his middle son, and his face twisted as if he’d stepped in manure. “That old bastard died before I could settle the debt between us so I’ll settle it with his brat.”
Wanting to pound his fists on the desk, or on his father’s face, Chance clenched them at his sides and breathed instead. Forcing his anger down, he looked for the right argument. If the old man figured out Cass was important to him, all bets were off.
“Cassidy Morgan plans to sell the place and return to Chicago. She has a herd of cattle. Once they’re sold, she can pay off her father’s medical bills. We can buy the place from her with one offer and a certified check.” He didn’t back down from his father’s glare.
Cyrus leaned over the table and jammed his finger into Chance’s chest. It took every ounce of self-control to keep from breaking his father’s finger.
“Ben Morgan double-crossed me and stole something important. I vowed then I’d ruin him. It may have taken me almost forty years, but by God I will have my revenge. Now sit down and shut up, Chancellor. You always were the runt of the litter.” His father faced the monitor. “Clayton, you better have that damn Senate committee straightened out on the oil pipeline bill.”
Chance sank onto his chair. Old taunts still hurt, but he wasn’t that little boy anymore. He opened his mouth to continue the argument but snapped it shut as Cord delivered a shift kick to his shins under the conference table. He pressed his lips closed and glared at his father in silence.
“I’ve made a few phone calls,” the old man continued. “That should take care of it. Don’t screw it up, Clayton.”
“No, sir. I won’t.”
Cyrus cast his gaze on his other sons and missed the grimace on Clay’s face. Chance caught it, right before his father’s eyes zeroed in on him again.
“As of now, Ben Morgan’s brat will no longer have a way to get those cows to market.” The cynical smile on his face spoke volumes. Chance braced for the other shoe to drop.
“We’ll foreclose on the property, and she’ll be left with nothing but a crapload of debt. Morgan’s remaining medical bills are over fifty thousand dollars. We’ll come in, sell off everything lock, stock and barrel and throw her and that old SOB Boots Thomas out on their asses.”
Chance’s gut roiled and he fought down a wave of nausea. What the hell was the old man doing? Cass had nothing to do with this ridiculous feud. His father was out to ruin a woman Chance cared about probably more than he should, given the circumstances. He bit his tongue and remained silent. He knew the old man too well, positive there was even more to come. His father pinned him with a cold stare.
“Quit stalling, Chance. I sent you to law school and let you start a law firm for a reason. Now get those papers filed. I want the foreclosure a done deal and everything liquidated.” The old man’s lips twisted into a parody of a smile. “Well, everything but Legend’s Double Rainbow. That little stud colt will finally be mine, too.” His father dismissed him with a negligent wave of his hand and turned his attention to the others. “Now, what the hell else have
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