Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gideon
It’d be a beautiful fucking day if I weren’t so annoyed.
Only a few fluffy white clouds littered the sky.
The light wind blowing over the rolling brown hills kept me from getting too hot, but it was too cool to strip down to my recently purchased shirt.
I kept the new army-green hoodie on. I’d already gotten a hole at the bottom from some rogue wire.
I was fighting heartburn from the sloppy joes and cherry Kool-Aid Dad had packed. My taste buds had been delighted with the nostalgia, but my gut had gone into panic mode.
“It’s fence,” I said through gritted teeth. We’d been at this for hours. “The method of fixing couldn’t have changed in twenty-five years.”
Sweat trickled between my shoulder blades. My new ball cap was already dirty. So was the rest of me. We were working on a two-hundred-yard stretch of metal fence posts that hadn’t been touched since I’d probably been the last one to stretch wire. But no, Dad wanted new posts swapped out.
I shouldn’t complain. He’d at least bought more metal posts and hadn’t decided to upgrade to thick wooden posts to impress the Baileys. I still didn’t understand why the hell we were doing this anyway. Dad could sign the papers and leave everything as is.
“I’m not sayin’ the method’s changed.” To give Dad credit, he looked heartier than he had all day. The cool temperature pinkened his cheeks, his hat shaded his eyes, and the wrinkles that had formed since I’d left town gave him a rugged air instead of a tired one.
I ignored the stark relief in my chest that he was looking better each time I saw him.
He shrugged. “I’m just saying that we don’t have to rush.”
I took off my cap, pushed a hand through my hair, and stuffed the cap back on. “They could erect another casino in the time it’s gonna take us to finish this stretch.”
“I’m sure they’ll hire you to run that one too.”
I couldn’t decipher his tone. Snarky? Disappointed? Crestfallen? “It’s not like I’ll be rebooting my farm if you finish the sale.”
“You sound a lot like your grandfather right now.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
He straightened. His expression was the most serious I’d seen it since I’d gotten home. “It is if you’re spewing his poison.”
“He was dedicated to this place. And to Mom.”
“Is that how you remember it?” He peered at me, intent on my answer.
“I remember he was around when you weren’t.” He hadn’t been able to help physically, but he’d imparted his wisdom to me.
Sadness filled his gaze. “At least he tried to build you up instead of tearing you down. Not that I agree with how or why he did it.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shoved his hands into the pockets of his tan Carhartt jacket. “What is it you plan to do? Quit your big-city job and come back to farm and ranch? Autumn can get a job anywhere, but there are no casinos in Bourbon Canyon.”
Irritation heated the back of my neck. “I know that.”
“Then Autumn’s moving? Mae’s going to be sad to see her go.”
I stomped to the bed of the pickup. He had a different vehicle than when I’d moved, but this one wasn’t much newer. Which piece of farm equipment had he sold to buy it?
I grabbed a new post. Only a shitload more to put up. “We haven’t decided yet.”
“I heard it’s a mighty nice patch of land that Darin left her.”
I hadn’t seen it yet. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
“Gideon, what are you doing?”
I knew what he was asking. He was thrilled about Autumn and that I was home, but the alcohol hadn’t burned away all his brain cells. “Trying to save a family legacy.”
“But you no longer have yourself to think of. You’re partners. She has her own family. Her own hopes and dreams. You can’t railroad them because your grandfather tied your worth to some dirt.”
Some dirt? This was home. This should be my home. “The sale would’ve broken Mom’s heart.”
Those wrinkles of his carved deeper with his frown. “Giddy, I did the best I could.”
“Don’t call me Giddy, and you didn’t do a thing. Did you even care for the animals after I left?”
His brows crashed together. “Of course I did.”
“So the dog died from old age? Same with the chickens?”
“The dog got cancer and I gave the chickens away. What did you think happened?” Realization dawned on his face.
Aw, hell. I hadn’t expected to feel so fucking guilty today. I was the one missing work to fix fence for no damn reason.
“Look,” he said, deflated, “I didn’t say my best was a lot. I’m not making excuses, son. I failed you. I failed this place. But I’m trying to do right.”
“By selling?”
He let out a long sigh. “Your mom didn’t have life insurance. I couldn’t run a farm and ranch. I’ve sold things off over the years to support myself. It’s time for retirement, and I’ve got nothing.”
The chafing around my neck intensified. The empty shop and cleared-out barns weren’t all from fueling his alcoholism. But his alcoholism was why he’d had to start selling off useful items to start with. “You’ve been living off what you sold?”
Shame filled his eyes, and he nodded.
“You can sell to me.”
His jaw went tight. “I don’t go back on my word.”
“Hank, I’m family. You can change your mind for family.”
He peered at me. “Can you?”
What’d he mean? “Grandpa instilled a strong sense of honor in me.”
Dad’s parents had been more interested in going south for the winter than visiting their only grandchild. Mom’s parents had been all about passing on lessons of family and fortune.
“I was afraid of that.” Before I could ask what he meant, he checked his beat-up black watch. “I’ve gotta head into town.”
Dad and my grandfather had never gotten along. There was no point in bickering about a dead man.
I looked down the long stretch we had yet to get to. This fence was another kick of irony. My grandfather would approve of how much nicer it looked. Why was Dad leaving before we were done? What had happened to working until the sunlight was gone?
“Can you come back out tomorrow?” Hope filled his eyes.
The burn of guilt was back. He wanted to spend time with me. “I don’t know. I’m a little behind at my own job after today.” The words tasted sour as I said them.
“Well, I guess I’ll be out here no matter what.” He stooped to pick up the wire spreader.
I sighed. “What time?” I put the posthole digger in the bed of the pickup.
“Eh, midmorning?”
“What happened to ‘when the sun’s up, we’re up’?”
“I can be out here at dawn, but I doubt either of us want that.”
I thought of how the grass would glisten with dew.
This time of year, frost would make the strands sparkle.
A quiet I hadn’t heard the entire time I’d lived in Las Vegas would drape over the countryside, and it’d be peaceful.
Just like now. Only the breeze and the birds filled in the silence when we weren’t talking.
I missed that. “Midmorning, then,” I said gruffly.
The smile that graced his face was like a hot pack on my conscience. He liked being with me.
Yet he wouldn’t sell Percival Farms to me.
Autumn
I tapped through spreadsheets, compiling data for the last month and the previous quarter.
The bar in Copper Summit only had three customers, and they were having a drink by the windows that made up one wall.
Wednesdays were typically quiet nights, which was why I preferred to work them. I could get some extra tasks done.
Summer and I hadn’t talked much beyond idle pleasantries on the drive here. She had gone up to the office Teller had readied for her. She was still the manager of the Bozeman site, but she worked remotely. When she had to travel for work, Jonah and their dog went with her.
A large shadow loomed over me. As big and quiet as it was, it had to be Tenor. I saved the cash flow report. “What’s up?”
“Got a minute?”
“I was just getting ready to send you last quarter’s reports.”
He had a tablet under his arm. He pushed his glasses up. “About those, I was talking to Tate about how to boost bar sales during our slow months—”
“Why Tate?”
He cocked his head. “Why not Tate?” he asked carefully.
“I run the bar, Tenor.”
He nodded, but the corners of his jaw flexed. Tenor was mellow, but he hated explaining himself. “I don’t see you as often as him. We like to talk about the ranch and distillery.”
And make decisions about them between themselves.
“We don’t want to bother you when you’re working,” he added.
“It’s literally my job.”
“You have a forty-plus-hour-a-week job that takes precedence over this place.”
“I’ve juggled both for years.”
He lifted a heavy shoulder. “Exactly. Anyway, when you and Wynter come up with holiday specials, we think you should aim for three to four new cocktails, with a few that can make an annual return.”
It wasn’t a terrible idea, but with Wynter being a new mom, her time would be more limited. “I’ll talk it over with her.”
“Teller thought December would be a good time to start.”
Which meant that was what Wynter and I would do. “Three to four Christmas specials, coming right up.”
He narrowed his eyes at the bite in my tone. “Okay. I’ll, uh, let you be.” He started to circle around the bar and head for the entry into the main part of the distillery.
“Sure. Just let me know what else you and Tate decide about the bar.”
He paused and glanced over his shoulder. I got a small nod from him and then he was gone.
I’d been a little catty, but seriously. Tenor never stopped in to chat about his ideas. Just to order me to complete them.
I punched through the rest of the reports. Summer breezed in, rubbing her hands together and adjusting the neckline of her cowl-neck cream sweater. The offices upstairs could get cold with the old windows.
“So. You ready to talk about what happened the other night?” she asked.
I’d almost forgotten about the way we’d left the party and how unwilling Gideon was to talk about it. Last night had kept my thoughts occupied since I’d woken this morning. Teaching multiplication tables when I’d rather dwell on the possessive sounds he’d made was hell on my concentration.