Chapter 2
Two
Logan
The day starts out fulfilling and uncomplicated.
The family I just took on our caving adventure tour is muddy, sweaty, but exhilarated. The Clarks, a family of four, with two college-aged girls, are warmer than most, reminding me of my own family. Affectionate and welcoming, with gentle jabs and teasing mixed in. It was a great tour.
It’s hard not to feed off their energy, and I ride the quiet satisfaction that comes after a good tour as I escort them back to Compass Mountain Mining and Cave Tours Visitor Center and Gift Shop to check in their gear.
“He’s cute,” the mother whispers as I lead the way up the hill. “Don’t tell me you minded watching that butt wiggle around in front of you.”
“Mom!” the eldest girl, Zoe, cries.
“What? If I were twenty years younger and not married…”
I check the father’s reaction, but he just rolls his eyes. I quickly look away to keep a straight face.
“This was a great time,” the dad says as he fishes some cash out of his money clip for a tip.
“I appreciate the feedback,” I say. I do my best not to transfer cave mud onto the bills, but it’s a losing battle.
I see them to their car, then shed my mud-coated uniform and wash my hands and face at the back entrance sink.
Seth ambushes me before I can make it to my desk. “Bro, you have to watch this video.” He thrusts his phone into my hands.
A heavily airbrushed girl faces the camera with a silly, embarrassed expression as the words flash: “When you find yourself turned on by…”
I recognize the trend—people admitting to weird or unlikely things they find sexy.
Then “19th century mining” floats above her head.
The video cuts to me explaining how the mechanics of the mining shaft elevator work.
It must be a day I covered for Seth, who typically gives the old copper mining tours.
Seth yanks the phone back and taps on the screen. “Look at these comments. ‘I wouldn’t mind taking a closer look at his shaft,’” he reads. “Oh, my god.” He covers his eyes dramatically.
I’m flattered, intrigued, and faintly horrified. The last thing I want is my “shaft” becoming a running joke online.
“Do you remember the video girl? Did she ask you out?”
“Yeah, I remember her.” She spent the whole tour asking so many breathless questions that I tested the mine’s oxygen levels afterward to ensure they were safe. “You know I don’t date tourists.”
“Your loss.” Seth sucks in his breath sharply through his teeth. “Ooh, man. What are the chances she comes on a day I’m not working? She should’ve been on one of my tours. I’d take her out.”
“Don’t you think it’s a little presumptuous to assume she’d be into you too?”
“Are you kidding? I’m the good egg.” He smirks when I shake my head. As identical twins, this is an old, tired joke. Up until Seth grew a thick beard, people used to confuse us.
“I’m going to have Emily share this video on our socials.”
“You’re insane if you think Emily’s going to post a video of a girl talking about how hot her brother is.”
“Are you kidding? This is great for business!” He’s already walking away, his tall, broad form taking up most of the space in the narrow hallway. “Emily, check this out!”
In the meeting room, Emily crosses her arms and taps her foot. She always looks so corporate, with her long blonde hair trailing down the back of her fashionable blazer.
“How can we call ourselves a professional business when Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum always waltz into meetings five minutes late? And where the hell is Ethan?” she complains to Cole, our second-oldest brother, who leans casually against the side of our ancient conference table.
I can’t decide if he’s brave or foolhardy.
It doesn’t look strong enough to hold up Cole’s heavy form without collapsing.
“Check out this video, Em,” Seth says, holding the phone under her nose.
Emily squints at the screen as he stabs at the play button. Her eyes snap to mine with barely disguised horror when I appear in the video.
“We could make it a whole campaign,” Seth says. “The LaSalle brothers on our promo materials. Visit the sexiest mine in the Southwest!”
Emily no longer bothers to hide her look of horror. It’s too hilarious. I can’t help but chime in and needle her a bit.
“Can’t you see it now? We could really class up our brochures, posing shirtless like they do on that old Magic Mike poster. It’d be cute. What do you think?”
“Come see our shafts!” continues Seth, lost in his marketing promo dreams.
“Eww,” Emily says. She hands the phone back and carefully wipes her hands on her slacks. “Forget what we talked about, Cole. I don’t want more responsibility. I want to quit.”
“No, you don’t,” Cole says. “Guys, knock it off. Seth, remember what we talked about with your voice. It carries.”
Ethan, our eldest brother and operations and office manager, appears at the doorway. “It’s fucking loud. Customers come into the gift shop. We’re trying to run a professional business, remember?”
“Exactly!” Emily says pointedly. “No apology for being late, Ethan?”
“No.” Ethan sits down in his chair and props his leg on the table. “Let’s get this circus over with.”
“Is this some sort of power trip?” Emily asks tartly. “The meeting doesn’t start until the almighty manager gets here?”
Ethan snorts. “Almighty manager, my ass. It’s more akin to herding cats than a power trip. It was easier dealing with the smooth-brained masses than you all.”
Until two years ago, Ethan worked as a deputy sheriff. He grumbles about his role of operations and office manager constantly, but we all know he loves being in charge and bossing his brothers and sister around.
“All right, Emily, simmer down,” Cole says.
Emily gives him the finger, but then she does simmer down.
As a former high school math teacher and basketball coach, Cole has a way of commanding obedience.
Even we can’t defy it. He refuses to teach us his tricks, saying it’s one of the few superpowers that should remain solely in the hands of teachers.
“Anyway, why is Seth yelling about shafts?” Ethan frowns. “Does ours need to be inspected again? They passed with flying colors last time.”
“We have a genius new marketing idea,” Seth says.
“Sorry, I wasn’t serious,” I jump in. “You, Seth, and you alone have a marketing idea.”
“It could be a whole thing!” Seth says, his face falling.
“Cole, you’re always talking about increasing profits for the copper mine side.
We could use this for new customers. Younger people.
We hardly get any younger customers in the mine.
You’ll see—it’s a great opportunity. I’ll send you a link to the video now. ”
“All right,” Ethan says. “Put together your plan. Written down this time, okay, Seth? Just because we’re family-owned and run doesn’t mean we’re not a professional business. Let’s start acting like it, which includes being on time to meetings. Emily, I’ll try to do better too.”
Both Seth and Emily look mollified by this. Seth pumps the air with his fist. “Yes! I’ll write it up right now.”
“Emily,” says Ethan, “since you’re the most excited about this meeting, you go first.”
Emily fills us in on her lengthy list of customer service and marketing issues. Finally, she pauses, her finger hovering over the last line on her notes. “Next item—we received another email from the town marshal’s office.”
While most Arizona towns have modernized their law enforcement branding to city police departments, Sagebrush is one of the few that still clings to the town marshal title.
Other Wild West–proud towns, like Tombstone and Cave Creek, also keep the term, though Sagebrush’s refusal to rebrand had more to do with lack of funds than any clever marketing spin, like “The Town Too Tough to Die.”
Now it’s too late to change. Our current town marshal seems to get off on comparing himself to other famous, supposedly tough, gunslinging marshals like Virgil and Wyatt Earp—which is ridiculous, since they both died in the O.K.
Corral shootout. It’s freaking weird to aspire to someone who died doing their job. Couldn’t have been that competent.
“What does our beloved marshal want now?” I ask, my voice cool.
Emily sighs. “He wants to meet with us. I suspect it’s the same thing as usual—he wants us to revise the trust designations, so his department gets a portion of the pie.”
“Not going to happen,” Ethan growls. “He can sell the damn Humvee if he needs funds.”
Years ago, the town council gave the newly appointed Rick Dawson and his department a huge budget increase.
Instead of using it for public safety improvements or even deputy salary increases, Marshal Dawson bought a military-grade vehicle and riot gear.
It still pisses Ethan off whenever he’s reminded of it.
The mere existence of Marshal Rick Dawson still pisses me off. Just hearing his name tightens something in my chest. “Dawson can fuck right off.”
“Okay,” Emily says slowly. “Dear Marshal Dawson, fuck off. Hell will freeze over before you receive any of the Blackstone money. Just like that?”
Ethan groans. “Since he didn’t outright say that’s what he wants…tell him we appreciate him reaching out, but it’s the tourist season—we’re too busy. Make it sound nicer than that. Let’s move on. How’s the event planning going, Logan?”
“I’ve got it under control. I think we’ll be ready.”
Events are a new side project I’m spearheading to attract more customers and turn them into repeat visitors.
The Candlelight Tour is our first event and attempt.
It’s what it sounds like: taking a tour of the easily accessible caverns with candles only, no other lighting.
I think it’ll be a hit—the candles illuminate the limestone, making it look warm and inviting, and adding amazing dimension to the rock formations.
I upgraded the basic premise with a locally catered dinner and live music to make it more of an experience.