Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88463 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 354(@250wpm)___ 295(@300wpm)
“I’m not trying to start something with her,” I say just as a truck rounds the bend in the driveway.
Saved by the truck.
“Thought he was coming later this morning,” Gideon says.
“Me too.”
I wasn’t expecting Dusty until a little later, but I’m glad he’s here now.
“Ryker,” Dusty says by way of greeting as he approaches the porch. “Gideon. Thought I’d see if you two were available a little early.”
“We are. Come on inside, and I’ll get you a cup of coffee.” I stand and gesture for the older man to follow me, and when we step through the door, Dusty whistles.
“Shit, did I come to the wrong house?”
I shake my head as Gideon walks in behind us. “Gideon and I have gotten a lot done since the funeral. The house needed some freshening up.”
“You two have busted your asses. Listen, I know I said so at the funeral, but I sure am sorry about your dad.”
I swallow as I catch Gid’s gaze, and I walk to the coffeepot to pour Dusty a cup, then refill my own. I don’t usually drink more than one cup a day, but I have a feeling I’m going to need this.
I know how Dusty takes his coffee. I made it for him for years. During the school year, Gid and I lived here in the house, but in the summer, Dad put us out in the bunkhouse with the other hands.
We fucking loved it.
Dusty was our boss, and he was someone who, along with Dad, taught us how to be a man. How to do what needed to be done here. Sometimes, he was a hard-ass, but he taught us a work ethic that has served us both well.
“Thanks,” Dusty says when I set his mug in front of him and then sit across from him at the table cupping my own mug in my hands. Gideon sits next to me.
“When did he let you go?” I ask, jumping right into the reason we asked him here.
He stares at the mug, taps the table with the tip of his finger. “About six months ago. The only animals that were left on the ranch were the horses. He’d let all the other guys go at the end of the summer, and then he pulled me in here, in this kitchen, and told me he didn’t need me anymore.”
“That was bullshit,” Gid says.
Dusty nods. “He was my boss.”
“He was your friend,” I counter.
“Yes, he was my friend, but he was also my boss, Ryker. If the man wanted to fire us all, that was his prerogative. He owned the land. I didn’t have a say in that. But I kept coming every day to look in on the horses because by that point, he hardly left this house.”
“Shit.” The guilt just sits heavier and heavier. “What did he do in here all day?”
“He drank,” he says. “Ate garbage. Missed Debbie. Losing her is what killed him.”
“I know.” I tug my bottom lip through my teeth, watching the older man. Gideon stands to pace. He’s not good at sitting still. “I’d like to hire you back on, with a raise. Summer’s coming up, and I’ll be hiring others to help too. I need to buy cattle and get this place up and running.”
“You’re reviving the Triple Creek?” Dusty’s face is full of surprise.
“Yes, sir.”
“What about hockey?”
I blow out a breath and shake my head. “I haven’t officially told anyone this, but I’m retired. This is my job now.”
Dusty just stares at me. “Don’t do that. Don’t give up something that great for this ranch.”
“I’m ready to retire, and I happen to like this place, you know. I knew I’d end up back here someday. Dad left everything to Gideon and me, split in half. I’ll be the one living here, taking care of things, and Gid’s a silent partner.”
When we learned how much money Dad had in the bank, we were shocked that he didn’t just hire more people to take care of things when he couldn’t, rather than let it all go to shit.
The man was rich several times over.
“I guess I could come out of retirement for you,” Dusty says slowly.
“We rehabbed the bunkhouse. It’s pretty much new inside, so you’ll be comfortable,” Gideon tells him. “It’s finished already.”
He nods. “Thank you.”
“When can you start?” I ask him.
“I’m here now,” he replies. “I’ll drive out to the bunkhouse, look around, and then stop in at the barn before I head into town to pack up my rental there.”
Relief washes over me. Thank Christ. I don’t know what I would do without Dusty.
“Thank you. But before you go pack up and move in, how do you feel about going out on horseback with us to make some plans before Gid has to head back to work this afternoon?”