by Gerri Hill
“Wait a minute,” Chance said. “During the season, our cowboys live in the bunkhouse.”
“Yes, well, your guests will be your new cowboys,” she said.
“What the hell?”
“This will allow you to save on payroll. What they did at Dry Creek, they put up temporary housing—one of those room-like tents—for the few they hired. You won’t need to hire as many seasonal cowboys to move your herd. Your guests, who will pay you, drive the cattle for you.”
“So you expect some guy from Chicago, who has probably never seen a horse before, to just come up here and trail the cattle for us? That’s insane.”
“And that guy from Chicago will pay you close to two thousand dollars to do just that.”
“Two grand?”
“That’s the going rate for cattle drives. It’s my understanding—and correct me if I’m wrong—but you have two major drives each year. Spring, where you move the cattle and their calves from the winter pasture up to the mountains, and then again in the fall where you move them from their summer location back down to the ranch.”
“That’s correct,” Cody said.
“How long do these drives normally take?”
“Five, six days usually, depending on how many cowboys we hire,” he said. “And the weather,” he added.
She nodded. “So you hire less, allow your guests to work the cattle, and perhaps take seven days.” She held her hands out. “Let’s face it. The horses know what they’re doing. They’ve been trained. You have cattle dogs to help. Just having a couple of seasoned cowboys should be all you’ll need.”
“And Dry Creek Ranch did this?”
“Yes. And you have an advantage. You have a large lake on your property. When it’s not the season for cattle drives, your guests come to enjoy the mountain lake, to ride horses, to get a feel for a real working ranch.”
“And for two thousand dollars, what else do they get?” Chase asked.
“Lodging, meals,” she said. “Trout fishing. Horseback riding. We’d have to establish some sort of a trail ride into the mountains. We’ll have a large campfire and a cookout on the last evening. All depending on how much you want to invest,” she said. “Some ranches have turned into resorts, adding large swimming pools and recreation buildings. Others do nothing more than cattle drives. You can do a little or a lot.”
“That’s just it. We don’t have much capital to invest,” Chance said.
“Then start out small. Fifteen to twenty guests on a cattle drive will get you thirty to forty thousand dollars. Whatever upgrade you do to the bunkhouse can be paid for on your first drive. After you’ve added more recreational opportunities for your guests, you can start taking reservations all summer long.” She paused, meeting each of their eyes, holding Cody’s the longest. “If you build it, they’ll come,” she said with a smile. “Our cities are congested, our open spaces limited. You’d be surprised at how many people just want to take a break from real life and spend a week without distractions. They can do that out here.”
Chance stood up, pacing slowly across the room. “I’ll admit, it sounds good. I’m also skeptical that it’ll work. What if we do invest in renovating the bunkhouse only to have no guests?”
“Obviously that’s a risk,” she said. “But my job is to get your name out there, set you up a website and promote this by advertising in outdoor magazines and the like. I’ll go over everything you have here at the ranch and assess what changes you need to make. Whereas in the past you hired cowboys, now you’ll need to hire a cook who can accommodate a large number of guests. You’ll need to hire someone to change and launder linens and towels. Also keep in mind this is seasonal. Will you have enough locals who can work or will you have to advertise for that as well? If you do have to hire from afar, then you’ll have to have accommodations for staff too.”
“There are enough people in the area looking for work that I don’t think that would be a problem,” Cody said.
“And I think if we hired someone to cook, Martha would be highly offended,” Colt added.
“Martha?” she asked.
“Martha’s been our cook here since, well, since our mother died,” Chance explained.
“The bunkhouse could stand to be remodeled anyway,” Chase said. “It hasn’t had any improvements in twenty years.”
She watched them, suddenly seeing excitement on their faces as her words began to sink in. Amazing how the mention of money and profits changed their attitudes. She felt her confidence rise, thinking she was close to inking her first real deal.
“Just one thing,” Cody said. “What’s in this for you?”
“You get six months of my time here at the ranch, plus additional time off-site as warranted. All of which includes my expert analysis and recommendations on improvements, coordination of the renovations, a website that will take reservations and payments, and several varied guest itineraries for you to choose from to implement.” She paused. “My salary would be forty thousand.”
Silence.
“Seriously?” Chance asked.
“Which is ten thousand less than Randall Consultants was paid by Dry Creek Ranch.”
“Unbelievable.”
She took a deep breath. She’d made her pitch and they had her portfolio. Now it was up to them. She began gathering her things, a smile still playing across her face. One thing she learned at Randall, always expect to make the deal.
“Well, I’ll leave you to discuss it all. Colt has my number in case you have any questions. I can begin as soon as you’re ready.”
Colt politely guided her out with a light touch on her back. She shook his hand firmly at the door.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said. “I think this is the best way to save the ranch.”
“It certainly is the way a lot of them are going these days. But you must get in at the beginning and establish a reputation. If the market is saturated, then you’ll just be another ranch offering a cattle drive,” she said. “Our goal is to have a waiting list of guests who are anxious to come here. We just have to offer them what they want.”
“I like your enthusiasm. I think my brothers do too. Give us a few days to talk about it. My sister is actually coming soon,” he said. “If I remember correctly, she’ll most certainly have an opinion. I’d like to get this sorted out before she gets here.”
“I didn’t know you had a sister.”
“She hasn’t been around in a number of years.”
Kerry nodded. “And with your father so ill—”
“Yeah. But we don’t want her involved in this. She has no interest in the ranch.”
“Well, I’ll wait in Billings for your call. If you decide not to do this, I’d appreciate it if you let me know as soon as possible,” she said. “I have another potential client in Idaho to visit.”
“Of course. I anticipate only a few days.”
She drove away after returning his wave, asking herself for the thousandth time if she’d made the right decision by quitting Randall. She knew in her heart that she had, but it was her bank account which stood to suffer. But really, six years was enough. She’d done the work, she’d secured the contracts, she’d babied the clients, she’d put in the long hours only to see the cash flow go to Irene and David. Yes, it was their company and they’d built it, but she got tired of seeing them jet off to the Bahamas during the winter and then settle into their mountain cabin during the summers, while she toiled away bringing in the cash.
Of course, Randall Consultants did much more than ranch conversions, but it was something she’d found she enjoyed. When she first started with Randall, she did seminars for companies wanting to boost production. The seminars themselves weren’t bad, but the research ahead of time bored her to tears. She then moved to on-site consulting, reviewing manufacturers assembly line productivity. That usually meant spending three to four weeks there, feeding data into the software programs that Randall had assembled. Randall Consultants then got involved in higher
education, sending two-member teams to observe—and then streamline—office procedures. She enjoyed the travel and found it fascinating how reducing time and energy on certain tasks shifted the workload and freed up hours for other projects. In the end, it was all about money and production. But Randall’s higher education goals shifted more toward recruitment and retention and Kerry’s enthusiasm shifted as well.
Now, setting out on her own, she wouldn’t have the resources at her fingertips like she had at Randall, but she had enough knowledge to manage, especially if she planned to only work with ranches for the time being. But like she’d told Colt, they needed to get in while there was still a market for it. Same with her. There were only so many ranches to convert before the market would become saturated. She hoped by that time she would have established herself—and saved enough money—to start doing more of the varied consulting work she’d learned at Randall.
In the meantime, she’d stay the course. She had little to no expenses, and she’d saved diligently over the years, knowing that she wanted to venture out on her own. The constant travel with Randall meant she could get by without having a permanent residence. Thankfully her parents were willing to store her few possessions and allow her to stay with them whenever she was in Denver. She was thirty-four years old and not in the least embarrassed to say she lived with her parents. They had always had a close relationship, and she never stayed there long enough to wear out her welcome. Which, if this deal didn’t work out, she would be heading back there to stay while she courted the ranch owner in Idaho who’d shown an interest in the Dry Creek Ranch conversion.
She shoved thoughts of her future aside and instead mentally listed the changes she thought needed to occur at Circle C Ranch, starting with the old, rundown bunkhouse. The quick tour she’d taken gleaned her enough knowledge of the building to see the potential of possibly fifteen rooms, albeit small. Perhaps a couple of larger rooms, for a higher price, could be worked in.
But it was the lake which held the most interest for her. Not many ranches could offer that, and this one was large enough to accommodate a couple of small piers and perhaps canoes or kayaks for the guests to paddle around in. And of course fishing. She could see that as a big draw in addition to the cattle drives and horseback riding.
Now, if only the brothers could come to an agreement. She was ready and willing to get started. She just needed the go-ahead.
And the money.
Chapter Four
Carson turned the rental car down the two-lane country road, thinking little had changed in the years she’d been gone. The old Conley ranch house still stood, even though it had been long abandoned. The Conleys had built a new one far back in the valley when she was a kid. Long before her father put a stop to it, she, Chase and Justin Conley had been pals, spending many a lazy summer day riding horses between the ranches. At one time, before she realized she was gay, she thought she and Justin would date. So did he. They were in the eighth grade when they shared their first—and only—kiss. They laughed afterward as it had been as awkward for him as it was for her. They’d grown up together and were as close as brother and sister. In fact, he was the first one she’d told when she was ready to discuss her sexuality.
Well, really, he was the second one. She told her mother first. And as is usually the case, her mother had long suspected so there wasn’t any kind of drama. No, not with her mother. Her father was a different story. It was her mother’s suggestion that they keep it from him. Of course, getting caught in the hayloft with one of Cody’s girlfriends let the cat out of the bag. That essentially ended their relationship.
It was her mother who stood by her—and stood up for her—until the end. But that last day wasn’t something she thought about much. She couldn’t. It was still too painful. Even now, just thoughts of her mother brought back the memories that were forever etched in her mind—her mother’s limp, lifeless body cradled in her arms as she carried her back to the ranch.
She shook her head as if she could shake loose the memories—chase them away—but she never could. So she did what she normally did. She replaced them with happier ones, recalling idyllic days of a carefree childhood, the world—or at least the fifty thousand acres that the ranch had access to—at her fingertips. She rode every day, often with her mother who shared her love of horses. The lush valleys and high mountains had a peaceful, calming effect on her, chasing away whatever paltry, teenage concerns she may have had. Truth was, most of her anxiety came from worrying about what she was going to do when she grew up. She hadn’t wanted to leave the ranch. Like her brothers, she loved the place and wanted to spend her life there. But unlike her brothers, she was never allowed to take part in the workings of the ranch, never allowed on the cattle drives or sheep herding. She could only watch from afar as the boys took part in what she considered the fun part. Her father made it clear from early on that she was a girl and was expected to act as such. All of which deepened the chasm between them. The only good was that it gave her and her mother more time together, time that would end up being so short.
It was with both apprehension and anticipation that she turned in at the ranch that encompassed most of Elk Valley. Massive log beams framed the entryway and two iron cutouts of bull elk adorned each side of the road. Hanging on the cross beam was the familiar Circle C logo that she’d grown up with. The young spruce trees that were planted along the entryway were now larger, more mature. As was she.
She traveled the winding dirt road, her gaze darting from side to side, taking in the greenness of the grass, the clusters of pines and aspens, the high mountains in the distance, still snowcapped as summer was just showing itself. She frowned, though, as something was missing.
Cattle. Surely they hadn’t moved them to the summer pastures already. Judging by the snow on the mountain peaks, she wouldn’t think the native grasses would be up yet in the high country. Maybe they were rotating winter pastures and had them in another valley. Or maybe their routine had changed in the years she’d been gone, although she found that hard to believe. She remembered well all the stories, first from her grandfather, then from her father, how the cattle were trailed along the same route from mountain to valley and back again for over a hundred years.
It hit her then that she was really back at the ranch. It wasn’t an errant phone call from her twin brother. It wasn’t just an idea she was still tossing around in her head. And it wasn’t a dream. No, she was really here, driving the long road that would take her to the ranch house and her brothers.
And to her dying father.
Had she really bought into Chase’s contention that she needed to make her peace, that she needed closure? Or was it his somewhat heartfelt plea that the ranch was falling apart and he needed her to come home? Or maybe it was just time. She’d been wandering the world, searching for a home, searching for someplace where she wanted to settle. So far, that place remained elusive. But here, in the land of her childhood, she felt a little of the wanderlust lift, she felt an unfamiliar contentment take its place. And on the heels of that thought came resentment. That at least was something she was familiar with. Because she didn’t want this place to have that effect on her. This place brought her so much joy—and ultimately so much pain. She didn’t want to reconcile with her father, she didn’t want to be reunited with her brothers.
“Then what the hell am I doing here?”
She slowed the car as a surge of defiance came over her. She didn’t have to go on. They were expecting her, yes, but that didn’t mean she had to go through with it. She could turn around and head right back to Billings and catch the next flight out.
But out to where? Back to San Francisco to resume her getaway with Rebecca? Or back to New York and her Manhattan apartment? An apartment that was as sterile and impersonal as a hotel room. She could always hop a flight to Europe, maybe down to the Mediterranean, maybe stay in a villa in Spain.
She sighed, glancing out at the lush springtime meadow, the deep blue sky,
the snowcapped mountains, then back to the road she’d been following. None of the options appealed to her at the moment, not as much as the urge she had to take her shoes off and run wild through the grass. Of course, she wasn’t a kid anymore and she controlled that urge. But she drove on, following the road, knowing in her heart that there was no place else she wanted to be than right here at the ranch.
She felt a tinge of excitement as the two-story ranch house came into view. It was larger than it had been, and she assumed her father’s plan to add on separate wings for the boys had come to fruition. And despite Chase’s declaration, the house at least looked well kept. There was no sign that it was falling apart. She noticed the cluster of blue spruce and aspens her mother had planted in the front had doubled their size since she left. There were no colorful spring annuals, however, and she supposed that tradition had died with her mother.
No less than six trucks were parked haphazardly around the house. Work trucks, all of them, as a coating of dirt and grime hid their true colors. She got out, taking in a deep breath of the freshest air she’d smelled in years. A smile came to her face as she looked skyward, beyond the blue. Home.
And while she had been intentionally evasive on the time of her arrival, she was still surprised to find no welcoming committee. She followed the sidewalk to the wraparound porch, glancing in the windows as she went. She thought it would be appropriate to use the front door. She was a guest after all. However, movement through the windows by the kitchen caught her eye. Chase, his body as long and lanky as she remembered, was leaning casually against the counter watching her. She paused, meeting his eyes through the glass. She matched his smile, then waited, her heart beating wildly as he pushed off the counter and opened the side door.
“Damn, sis, you’re even prettier than I remembered.”
She felt a blush color her face at his words. “Hey, little brother.”
“By two minutes. That hardly counts.”