A murmur moved through the audience.
Then somebody whistled.
"Good Lord, look at that thing."
The auctioneer glanced toward the animal.
He was a heavyset man with a gray mustache and a voice that could normally make even ordinary cattle sound extraordinary.
This time, his enthusiasm seemed strained.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we've got a mature Beefmaster bull here. Big frame, strong bone, plenty of size. Sold as-is, with the condition disclosed. Veterinary inspection strongly recommended."
Someone laughed.
"Veterinary inspection? That thing needs an entire hospital!"
More laughter followed.
Claire stood near the railing, studying the bull.
She wasn't laughing.
She noticed how it distributed its weight.
How its eyes followed the handlers.
How its breathing changed when it became agitated.
And how, beneath the terrible infestation, the animal still possessed the posture of a bull that had once been exceptionally strong.
The auctioneer opened bidding at five thousand dollars.
Nobody moved.
He lowered the request to three thousand.
Silence.
Two thousand.
A few men shook their heads.
One thousand.
The auctioneer waited.
Then Claire raised her card.
"One thousand dollars."
For a moment, the room went still.
Then a deep laugh erupted behind her.
A wealthy rancher in his late fifties leaned against the railing, shaking his head as though he'd just witnessed the most ridiculous thing imaginable.
His name was Wade Mercer.
He owned more than six thousand acres across South Texas, operated several commercial cattle partnerships, and enjoyed reminding people that his grandfather had been buying livestock before most of them were born.
He wore an expensive tan cowboy hat, a weathered brown leather jacket, and an oversized silver belt buckle.
He had known Claire's grandfather.
He had also spent the previous eighteen months suggesting that Claire should sell her ranch before she ruined it.
Now he stared at her in disbelief.
"Sweetheart, tell me that was an accident."
Claire kept her bidding card raised.
"No, sir."
Wade laughed harder.
"You just offered a thousand dollars for a bull covered in more ticks than a hunting dog in July."
Claire said nothing.
A rancher beside him leaned forward.
"Better buy chemicals by the barrel!"
Another called, "Or rent a backhoe!"
The men burst into laughter.
Claire remained focused on the bull.
The auctioneer looked toward the audience.
"Do I hear eleven hundred?"
Nothing.
"Anybody?"
Silence.
"Sold for one thousand dollars!"
The gavel struck.
Wade shook his head.