Knight in a White Stetson by Claire King Page A

banker could be, stomped up behind Ruby. His mustache twitched in irritation.
    “Mrs. Watchell, would you please use the intercom when I have visitors? I believe we’ve discussed this before.”
    “Now, why in the world should I use that intercom when you’re no more than ten feet away? You can hear me just fine.”
    Dick Dupree sighed heavily and adjusted the lapels on the coat Calla had seen him hastily slip into. A coat. Calla groaned to herself. Bad sign. She followed him into his dank little office and watched him swipe a big plastic bottle of generic antacid into the top drawer of his desk. Another bad sign. She sank into a chair facing him.
    “Well, Dupree. Let’s have it.”
    “Have what?” He paused, then shook his head. “Calla, I swear sometimes you have the tact of a billy goat. You want coffee?” He moved his hand to the button of the intercom. Calla imagined the lecture they’d have to endure if he pressed it, and she shook her head quickly.
    “No thanks, Dick. I’ve got a dinner date in an hour. I don’t have time for the niceties. What’s up? I rarely get a summons from you unless my note payment’s late. And I still have three days until that sad day.”
    Dupree cleared his throat, adjusted his tie and pulled a yellow, tooth-marked pencil from a worn felt holder on his desk and tapped it on his knee. Calla watched with mounting alarm. Usually, she couldn’t get Dick Dupree to shut up. He loved a good lecture.
    “Dick. Stop it. You’re making me nervous.” She leaned forward and crossed her arms on his dusty desk. “You can’t foreclose. I’ll sue.”
    Dupree sat upright and stopped tapping his pencil.
    “Don’t threaten me.”
    “Don’t you threaten me, Dick. You can’t foreclose.”
    “As a matter of fact, I can. I’m not saying I will, but I certainly can. I already have board approval.”
    Calla couldn’t breathe. “What?”
    “I already have board approval. You have been late one too many times, Calla. You’ve been walking the line. The jig is up. One more late payment and I’m going to shut you down.”
    “The jig is up? I can’t believe this.”
    “Believe it. And even if you manage to get your notes in on time for the next six months, your balloon is due at the end of the year. You’ll never make that.”
    “I will make it. I’ll sell some cows.”
    “And then what? You’re digging yourself a hole you can’t get out of, Calla.”
    “You’re wrong.”
    Dupree raised his hands in supplication, but his beady eyes stayed determined and hard. “Look, Calla, the business has had a huge downturn. It isn’t just you. Every cattleman in southern Idaho is sinking. I’ve heard about foreclosures on operations three times your size. You’ve done a fine job, considering your age and the fact you’re a woman. But it’s time to throw in the towel. The party’s over.”
    “Stop talking like that.” Calla rubbed her temples. “You’re giving me a headache.”
    Dupree let her stew for a minute.
    “There is an alternative to foreclosure.”
    “You won’t foreclose on me, Dick.”
    “Just listen, Calla.” He took a deep breath and licked his lips. “We’ve had an offer on your place.”
    Calla sat back, stunned.
    “What?” An offer? Her mind raced. When? Who? She grabbed at a thought as it whizzed through. “Stan?”
    Stanley Cutler was her closest neighbor and the man who owned the rights to Sulphur Lake runoff after it passed through her fields. He’d kept a close eye on Calla, waiting for her to give up and sell. But he’d never been insistent, or duplicitous. He’d told her flat-out that when she was ready to sell, he was ready to buy.
    “Stan…?” Dupree knitted his brows. “You mean Cutler? God, no. That man’s got financial troubles you wouldn’t … ah, anyhow, no. Not Cutler.”
    “Who, then?” Her head was spinning, not a good sign in a banker’s office, where a clear head often meant the difference between a future and a past for a