Secret Shepherd

by James Osborne

  Paul glanced at George, who looked away embarrassed.

  “I know an investor who might be interested in what you’re doing here,” Paul said, his eyes scanning the farm.

  George looked at him skeptically. “I can’t imagine any investor being interested in my little pastime.”

  “That would be for an investor to decide, if we can find one,” Paul replied. “That will depend on the numbers, of course. Do you have some financials on your work here, and some projections?”

  “Yes, to both questions,” George replied. “I’ve done lots of research and I keep records, to keep my plan up to date. That’s half the fun.”

  “The big question,” Paul said. “I expect an investor will want to know if you have the time to manage a large-scale forestry operation.”

  “You’re kidding me, right?” George said.

  “As I said, it all depends on the numbers,” Paul replied.

  “You’re welcome to ‘em,” George said. “Those numbers are telling me it’ll work... can be commercially viable, as long as it’s on a large scale. You know we’d be looking ten to fifteen years out. Young folks like Isaac here would be running an operation like what I have in mind.”

  “We’d better get started,” Paul said.

  “Are you sure, now?” George asked. “I hope this isn’t some kind of cruel joke, is it?”

  “I’m serious,” Paul said. “I trust your numbers are too. They’ll show an investor whether this idea of yours is viable... or not.”

  “There’s one other thing,” George added. “My personal caveat: it must be done on a sustainable basis or I’ll have no part of it.”

  “My sentiments exactly,” Paul said. “Do you know of any farms nearby coming up for sale?”

  “Well yes, there are two farms close by,” George said. “With my farm, that makes three available. One farm is right across the road. It’s quite level... would be perfect for a tree nursery. An elderly woman owns it, Maxine DeRitter. Her husband died two years ago. She wants to sell. One of those corporate farming conglomerates is after it; they want my farm, too. The other farm is beside Maxine’s.”

  “Would that be enough land?” Paul asked.

  “Oh no, but it would be a start,” George said. “Combined, our three farms would be a little over three hundred acres. A viable operation would need ten or even twenty times that much land; even more would be better... plus land for a mill and lumberyard.”

  “Would you be willing to loan me a copy of your plans as well as your financial projections?” Paul said. “And could you look around quietly to see whether more farms might be available?”

  “You sure?” George said.

  “Indeed,” Paul replied. “The investor I have in mind has fairly deep pockets. Let me ask you something else, George. What would you think of setting up a company owned by the farmers themselves to buy their farms? That way, they can remain owners indirectly through their shares in the company.”

  “That’s clever!” George said. “My guess is that most of the farmers I know would be skeptical but interested once they understand. A bunch of us get together every so often over coffee. I’ll talk to them.”

  “That’s good,” Paul said. “I think the investor I have in mind could favor such an approach. One other point; if you agree to take charge of this project, I’ll run the idea past that potential investor.”

  “Of course,” George said. “What’s in it for you?”

  “Maybe I’ll ask the investor for a finder’s fee,” Paul replied. He tried to look serious. “That way all of the investment will stay with the new company.”

  “What’s in it for the investor?” George persisted. “What about interest?”

  “The investor I have in mind is more interested in helping to make good things happen than in big profits,” Paul replied. “As for interest, my guess is the investor would settle for a percentage of net profits, once they start to roll in, say around four or five percent of net profits. That work for you?”

  “Good heavens, yes,” George replied. “Perfect! Are you sure about this?”

  “Yes,” Paul replied.

  “Well then, I’ll get those plans and financials for you,” George said.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Hale Springs Inn

  “I’m going to have another look at Isaac’s motel,” Paul said. “Want to come along?”

  “It isn’t theirs anymore,” Ahmed corrected him.

  “Yeah, I know.” Paul said, smiling to himself at how much at ease Ahmed was with correcting him.

  Self-confidence, Paul thought. That’s good!

  “Where is it?

  “East end of town... Highway 11 West,” Paul said.

  “Okay,” Ahmed said. “But first I have to give Naomi a call. Okay? Meet you in fifteen minutes at your room?”

  “Sure.”

  ***

  Waiting for Ahmed

  “Malcolm, we’re gonna buy a motel,” Paul said.

  He was on his cell phone from his suite in the Hale Springs Inn.

  “Did you have a particular one in mind that struck your fancy, Milord?” Malcolm said.

  Paul smiled. Malcolm was enjoying his own peculiar sense of humor again.

  “Yes,” he said. “The real estate arm of a local bank has it for sale. First National Bank of Rogersville. The property is on a highway called 11 West on the east side of town. I’d like you to check on their best asking price.”

  “My pleasure, Milord.”

  “I’m going to have a look at it in a few minutes.”

  “You mean you haven’t seen it?”

  “Not yet,” Paul replied. “I checked out the listing online and it’s given me some ideas.”

  “Anything else you’d like me to ask them?” Malcolm asked. “They’ll be curious... they’ll recognize my English accent.”

  “For now, just find out their best price,” Paul said. “I’ll call you back in a couple of hours. Will you still be up?”

  “Sure,” Malcolm said. “This is much too entertaining! Sleep is highly over-rated, Milord. I’ll await your call.”

  ***

  “What do you think, Ahmed?” Paul asked. They were standing in the parking lot of the boarded-up motel and restaurant after taking a walking tour of the property.

  “It’s a dump,” Ahmed said. “It’s in rough shape... been neglected a long time. We should ask Isaac if it’s structurally sound. I can ask him. He’ll know. If it isn’t, then it’ll have to be torn down. I expect that will make it a lot more expensive to develop... be hard to attract investors.”

  “Good idea to ask Isaac,” Paul said. He was impressed with how Ahmed was thinking and taking initiatives. “From what I’ve heard around town, the place has been through two owners since Isaac’s father had it. Obviously neither could make a go of it.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking,” Ahmed said. “What makes you think a third owner could make it viable?”

  “Focus, again,” Paul said. “But this time, business focus. It needs to become a preferred destination for local people, while also being able to attract tourists, and be promoted properly. I wonder what the bank is asking.”

  “Whatever it is,” Ahmed replied, “It’s gotta be too much. Nice big property, though, and well located. I don’t know much about these things, but there seems to be a high volume of traffic on the highway with easy access, excellent visibility, and lots of property. Frankly, I’d buy it if it turns out to be structurally sound and I had any money to invest... if I had any money at all, that is... and the price was right.”

  “Would you now?” Paul said. “What would you do with it?”

  “Like you said, Paul, it could be a good location for specialty retail shops, a restaurant, and some professional offices,” Ahmed said. “I’d build a three or four story office building. Hey, I’m just guessing but don’t you think professional offices would draw traffic to the retail outlets and vice versa? Maybe add some tourist attract
ions like shops carrying local handicrafts and stuff, and maybe make that old restaurant into an upscale dining room and bar.”

  “Well now,” Paul said. “Don’t you have an active imagination... clairvoyant even? I have an idea. Let’s make this a case study for your online business economics course. You’ve done a bunch of research already, right? When we get back this afternoon, why don’t you put your thoughts together on your computer? Email them to me and we can talk about it. Then we’ll see if we can do anything practical with your case study. What do you say?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Ahmed said.

  ***

  “They’re asking $365,000,” Malcolm said. “I looked around online, to compare it with similar properties in Rogersville and nearby towns. I’ve not physically seen the property, of course, but that price seems high given its history and similar properties in the listings.”

  “I expect you’re right, Malcolm,” Paul replied. “Especially since it needs a huge amount of work.”

  “The bank said there’s an adjoining property for sale also, Milord,” Malcolm said. “Smaller building and less property. They want $460,000 for both.”

  “Yeah, I saw that on the listing,” Paul said. “Let’s offer them $375,000 for both. Let me know.”

  “Call you back, Milord,” Malcolm said.

  Paul’s phone rang twenty minutes later.

  “Had to twist their arms a bit, but they’ll take $405,000 for both.”

  “Done,” Paul replied. “You handle the paperwork. I saw a sign for a local lawyer, Allen Sorokin. Use him, okay? We should buy locally. Let him and the bank know that I’ll be representing the buyer. Oh, and tell the bank I’ll be in touch to get the keys.”

  “Right you are, Milord.”

  ***

  Next Morning

  McKinney’s Restaurant

  “That property’s been sold,” Paul told Ahmed over breakfast in McKinney’s.

  “Damn!” Ahmed said. His mouth pursed with disappointment. “I worked half the night on that case study/slash/business plan. Got the first draft almost done.”

  “That was fast!” Paul said.

  “Yeah, had to cut my call kinda short with Naomi. She was disappointed but understanding. She sure is nice.”

  “You miss her?” Paul asked.

  “Yeah, sure do,” Ahmed said. His eyes gazed off in the distance. “A special woman... we’re just friends, though. What about that property? Guess this was just a study exercise for me, right?”

  “Not exactly,” Paul said. “I consulted with the investor that bought the property. Doesn’t live here. Wants us to look after it. Sounds like the owner might develop the property. You’d better get on with converting that case study into a business plan. Looks like we’re going to need it.”

  “How did you find out about the sale?” Ahmed asked.

  “I made some phone calls,” Paul replied. “It’s not all that difficult to find out these things. You’ll learn.”

  “Hey there’s Isaac!” Ahmed said.

  Isaac was walking past the restaurant windows. Ahmed jumped up and ran outside after him. He returned with Isaac.

  “I invited Isaac to have breakfast with us.”

  “Excellent!” Paul said. “Morning Isaac. Good to see you. Come join us.”

  “Might as well,” Isaac said. A glum look clouded his face.

  “What’s wrong,” Paul said.

  “Got fired,” Isaac said. “Housekeeping manager at the motel saw me with you fellas. He pitched a fit over me sittin’ with guests of competitors.”

  “You’re kidding me!” Ahmed said. “It was just a coffee. Good grief, we invited you to join us. That guy’s way outta line.”

  “He does the housekeepin’ hiring and firing there,” Isaac said.

  “You can forget him,” Paul said, smiling. “We’re going to need someone like you who knows how to build things.”

  “What do you mean?” Isaac asked.

  “For one thing, your dad’s motel has been sold.”

  “Really?” Isaac asked. “Who bought it?”

  “Some outfit from out of town,” Paul replied.

  “Yeah, and they asked Paul to look after it,” Ahmed said. “Sounds like the owner wants to do some renovating right away. That right, Paul?”

  “I’m sure of it,” Paul said. “I think the owner wants the place developed appropriately... same with the property next door.”

  “Y’all mean someone bought both properties?” Isaac said, his eyes alight with interest. “My diddy said that woulda bin a perfect addition to his property... allow for more parking, and room to add more shops. He had some big ideas... did a lotta paperwork, ya know, fixin’ ta make it happen.”

  “Do you still have the paperwork?” Ahmed asked.

  “Oh yes!” Isaac said. “I kept all of his business stuff. Y’all wanna see it?”

  “I sure do!” Ahmed replied. “I sure do.”

  Paul smiled happily to himself as he watched the two young men interacting so well.

  Hmmm, he thought. I think we just might have something going here.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” said a loud voice. A large man walked up to their table. “Get the hell outta here and stop botherin’ these people! They’re guests.”

  “I don’t work for y’all anymore, Malik,” Isaac said. “I go where I please.”

  “Not here, you ain’t!” Malik said, grabbing Isaac’s arm. “These places are for paying guests. Out! Get out!”

  “Let go of him!” Paul said firmly, standing. “First of all, we invited this man to join us. He’s our guest. Second, who are you and what business is it of yours to tell him or us whom we can sit with? Do you work here?”

  “No,” the man said. His tone was aggressive. “My name is Jason Malik. I’m the housekeeping manager for the motel where this no-account cleans the pool... used to clean the pool. Who are you?”

  “Paul Winston,” Paul said. “I’m a guest here.”

  “So what?” Malik replied. He stepped toward Paul in a typical bullying gesture. Paul didn’t move. He gave Malik a steely gaze.

  “I want you to leave now,” Paul added calmly but firmly. “You have no business here bullying this man or interrupting us. I want you to leave right now.”

  “Fuck you!” Malik said. “No one tells me what the fuck to do. Go fuck yourself.”

  “Who’s your manager?” Paul said.

  “Why do you want to know?”

  “I’m going to have a chat with him.”

  “Her,” Malik said, turning and stomping away.

  “Guess I’ll have a chat with whoever ‘her’ is,” Paul said. “Talk to you two later.”

  ***

  Two Days Later

  “Y’all are a miserable fucking prick! I know all about ya, sucker!”

  Paul looked up from the table in O’Henry’s Restaurant, a block and a half from Hale Springs Inn. He was finishing lunch.

  Jason Malik looked down at him. Malik’s face was red and contorted with anger.

  “Y’all got me fired, you rotten son of a bitch!” Malik added. “You’re gonna be fuckin’ sorry! And I’m gonna collect big time on y’all right now, like fifty G’s worth!”

  Paul stood to his full height. “What do you mean by that?” he demanded.

  “You dumb bastard!” Malik replied. “Don’t y’all know there’s a $50,000 bounty on your head? I’m fixin’ to collect right now!”

  Where the hell did he hear about that? Paul thought.

  A hunting knife appeared in Malik’s right hand. He crouched and moved toward Paul.

  Not again! Paul thought.

  “Drop it!” an authoritative voice shouted from behind Paul’s right shoulder. “Drop the knife and step back or I’ll fire! Drop it now! Raise your hands. DO IT NOW!”

  Malik took one step back. The knife clattered onto the rust-colored tile floor.

  A man holding a Glock 17 stepped into Paul’s view.

 
; “On the floor!” the man roared at Malik. “Git down on the floor, now! Arms and legs wide! Do it, now!”

  The man with the gun turned to Paul. “Sir, I’m a police officer. I witnessed this man pull a knife on you. Is that correct?”

  “He did, officer,” Paul replied.

  The officer turned toward Malik. He holstered his weapon and removed a pair of handcuffs from his belt behind his back.

  As the officer bent down, Malik rolled over and hit the officer in the chin with his fist, knocking the cop backward.

  Malik rolled over and began scrambling to his feet.

  Before he could, Paul took a step and brought his right forearm down on the back of Malik’s neck. Malik fell to his knees, stunned momentarily, but recovered quickly and charged from a crouch, heading for Paul’s midsection.

  The police officer recovered enough to see Malik rushing at Paul. Still on the floor, the officer managed to kick Malik’s right foot out from under him. Malik dropped face down. The cop landed a hard blow to Malik’s kidney area. The big man was immobilized briefly.

  Paul and the plainclothes cop descended hard on Malik, pinning him to the floor while the cop handcuffed him.

  “Thanks,” the cop said. “I’m Jeff Mitchell, Hawkins County Sheriff’s Department.”

  “Paul Winston.”

  “This fella’s going away for a long stretch this time,” Mitchell said. “He’s overdue.”

  “You know him?” Paul asked.

  “Oh yeah,” Mitchell said. “This is a small town. Everyone knows this bully. He was released from jail a couple of months ago. A local business gave him a job... to help him rehabilitate. Some thanks. Served two years for assault. No time off for good behavior. Not surprising.”

  Ah ha, Paul thought. I’ll bet that guy heard about the bounty on me from fellow convicts in prison. But how the hell could any of them know I’m here?