by Karis Walsh
“Alana Brendt,” he finished for her, shaking her hand. “You look much better in person than you did in our interview. Of course, then you were wavy and frozen on the screen.”
He laughed and picked up her suitcase. “We can put this on the porch while I show you around. No one’s here, so it’ll be safe.”
He didn’t sound concerned about the lack of people at the ranch, Alana thought as she followed him across the parking lot. He had already delayed the grand opening three times, due to continued construction and personnel changes, and Alana had expected the lodge to be bustling with builders and staff members. His casual manner about the postponements had been a definite red flag to her during their interview. Another one had been the money he had sent to cover her flight and first month’s salary, which had come in the form of a personal check and not off a business account. Still, he had constantly stressed the word family during their interview and in the job description. He was obviously the type who cared about the people he employed and would therefore be likely to write her a glowing recommendation when she left for another job, even if his own business venture didn’t survive the year. And she needed a lot of glow to counteract the negative rumors her old boss had been spreading…
Alana firmly shut a mental door against those thoughts. She had raged about the injustice of it all, but the damage had been done. She was here for a fresh start. She climbed the steps and took a deep breath before walking into her new home.
She slowly turned in a circle and took in her surroundings. The inside of the lodge was as perfectly designed as the outside, although it was a bit too cliché-log-cabin for her personal taste. Still, it was probably exactly what the guests who chose this kind of vacation would expect and want. A long check-in desk was topped with a thick piece of wood that looked like it had come from a single tree, complete with bark on the guest side and varnished to a high sheen. A flagstone entryway led to a comfortable common room with log furniture covered with patterned wool blankets and two ornate and old-fashioned black woodstoves in opposite corners. Flat metal sculptures of various wildlife hung on the walls.
She walked over to a bronze moose and gently ran her fingertip over the smooth edge of its hoof. “These are amazing,” she said, admiring the delicate work and continuing to plan the décor for her fantasy future office. The mental activity would help to keep her sane while she was here, since it reminded her that this wasn’t forever. “Is the artist local?”
Chip grinned and raised his hand, as if he was in class. “Yep. My grandfather did a few of them, like the wolves over there by the woodstove and the heron here at the desk, but the others are mine. He taught me how to make them.”
“Impressive,” Alana said, stepping back to get a better view of the heron. Her grandparents had taught her to balance account books and make hospital corners on beds in their family-run hotel. Those were more mundane skills, nowhere near as artistic as this legacy, but they had left her with some good memories. She was firmly planted on the event side of the hospitality industry now and not interested in the day-to-day mechanics of running a hotel, but she could step in and turn out a spotless guest room if need be.
Hopefully, there would be no need for her to flex her cleaning muscles here, although given the way Chip had gone through employees before the ranch even opened, she wouldn’t be shocked if he tried to open before he had full staffing. Alana would have to be firm about sticking to her role as Activity Coordinator, although she was desperate enough for a good reference that she knew she would do whatever it took to make a run for Employee of the Year.
She turned her attention back to Chip as he led her on the tour, pointing out the staff break room behind the front desk and the small gift shop.
“This is the dining room, where we serve breakfast every morning,” he said, showing her the utilitarian room on the other side of the foyer from the office. Apparently whatever log-cabin catalog Chip had used to furnish the main room hadn’t had a section for eating areas. The floor was speckled gray linoleum, and the tables were cafeteria-style white Formica. A stainless-steel counter for trays lined the food service area, where empty pans and caddies waited silently to be filled with scrambled eggs and tiny plastic tubs of creamer.
“It’s very clean,” Alana said, after searching in vain for a more flattering compliment. Chip seemed happy enough with her comment, even though it wasn’t as enthusiastic as her appreciation of his artwork. Still, she’d prefer clean over other qualities when it came to her food.
“And here is your office,” Chip said, opening the door next to the dining room with a flourish.
Alana hesitated in the doorway. Walking inside would cement the fact that it was her space, where she would spend the next however many weeks until she got a better offer. She exhaled and went into the little room. There wasn’t much space for more than a plain desk, a brown metal file cabinet, and a bookcase, but it would do. A map of the property was tacked onto the wall, and a stack of chocolate-colored binders sat on the desk, but the rest of the decorating was obviously left for her to put her personal touches on the room. She was close to reception, where guests could find her easily. The work would be the same as she was used to doing, just in a different and less desirable setting. Whether she was called an event planner, a concierge, or activity coordinator, her job stayed consistent, and she was damned good at it.
Well, ignoring the slight hiccup that had gotten her sacked from her last job, even though it hadn’t been entirely her fault.
Chip might be an entrepreneurial novice in a backwater town, but at least he didn’t seem likely to throw her under the bus to save his own reputation, like her ex-employer had done. Alana turned to face him with what she hoped was an enthusiastic smile on her face, the same one she wore when greeting guests even if she was tired of them.
“This will be perfect,” she said.
“Good,” he said, sighing in apparent relief. “I’m glad you like it, even though you won’t be spending much of your time in here. I know you’d hate being cooped up inside as much as I would.”
Alana made a noncommittal mm-hmm of agreement. She might have exaggerated her interest in the great outdoors just a teensy bit on her résumé. In truth, her citified version of the outdoors meant the concourse outside the stores at a mall.
“The guest rooms are basically finished, except for the last-minute touches,” he said, leading her back into the foyer and gesturing toward the two branching hallways with a waving motion. “Linens, paintings, furniture, that sort of thing. Getting rid of the dust from construction.”
“Will you…we be able to open next month, as planned?” Alana asked, remembering at the last moment to include herself in the High Ridge family. Chip’s list of last-minute touches seemed fairly extensive.
“Here’s hoping,” he said with a cheery grin, holding up his hands with fingers crossed, as if she needed an illustration of his sophisticated business practices. He pointed at a closed set of double doors at the beginning of the right-hand hallway. “That’s the pool. It’s not filled yet, but you’re welcome to use it anytime once we get water in it.”
“Thank you,” Alana said, although she wondered if Chip’s cash flow would last long enough for the ranch to see pool water and guest room bedspreads. Her stay in Yakima might be even briefer than she had expected.
He clapped his hands and rubbed them together vigorously, as if he was the cartoonish villain in a superhero movie. “Now for the best part. You’ve been acting patient, but I’m sure you’re champing at the bit, so to speak, to meet the horses.”
“Well, of course I am.” What the hell? Meet the horses? Was this some sort of West Coast custom, or was it specific to Yakima? Alana shrugged and followed Chip out the lodge’s back door and across a yard blanketed with dry grass and sporting an ill-advised fire pit that could potentially set the entire ranch ablaze.
A space twice the size of the lodge’s footprint had been cleared of all but a few scrubby pines an
d sectioned into a series of paddocks, complete with three-sided shelters and water troughs. Two or three horses lounged in each enclosure, swatting at flies with their tails and looking supremely bored with their lives in Yakima.
“This is where the horses are saddled for the day’s rides and where the guests mount up.” Chip opened a wooden gate that led into a large open space with a series of hitching posts. “This part of the ranch has been here for a few years. The previous owners did trail rides and tubing excursions down the Naches, and I got the horses as part of the purchase.”
“Very nice,” Alana murmured, skirting around a pile of horse manure and wrinkling her nose at the smell.
“And this is the barn. We only have a few stalls, in case a horse is injured or sick, but the weather here is mild enough for them to be comfortable outside in general. The tack room is right over here. Did you bring your own saddle?”
Alana’s first inclination was to wonder where he thought she could possibly have stashed a saddle in her carry-on, and belatedly she realized he thought she was more of a rider than she really was. Which was not at all. She might have mentioned liking horses in her cover letter, too.
“I didn’t bring it. Too much to ship,” she said vaguely, trying to look dejected since now she wouldn’t be able to ride. She almost added a sad darn it but decided it would be overkill.
“No matter,” Chip said, patting her on the shoulder and apparently misreading her look of resignation and regret. “You’re free to use any of ours.”
“Yay,” she mumbled under her breath as he closed the tack room door and continued the tour.
“Here’s the feed room, and hay is stored in the loft. Marcus is our groom and he does the feeding and stall cleaning, but I’ll have him show you everything in case he’s sick or misses a day.”
Alana paused in the shady aisle of the barn and watched Chip as he went out the back door and into the sunshine. She had been worried about being asked to clean guest rooms and hadn’t even considered taking over barn duties. Just how shorthanded was he? She was going to have to nip this new development in the bud.
She caught up with him at the first of the paddocks. He hadn’t noticed her lagging behind, and she caught him midsentence. “…and the chestnut is Penny,” he said, pointing at a reddish-brown horse. “Over here we have Mouse and Dancer.”
He continued to lead her through the maze of enclosures, naming each horse. The names seemed random, and Alana couldn’t tell one horse from another unless they were spotted or had unusual markings, so she promptly forgot each one as he told her. Unless she was expected to call them to dinner by name, she didn’t think it mattered if she remembered or not, so she just let him work through the entire herd.
He stopped at a pen with only one horse in it. The animal was good-looking as far as Alana could tell. His hair was shiny and his teeth weren’t bared in preparation for biting her, which was about all she cared about in a horse. He ambled over to them and arched his neck over the top rail, butting at her gently with his massive head. She reached out tentatively and patted him. Chip was smiling at her, obviously expecting some sort of reaction, although she wasn’t sure what he was waiting for. Glee? An ecstatic fainting spell?
“He’s soft,” she said, rubbing the velvety fur on his nose. She winced. It was probably not a comment a serious horse rider would utter, but it was the only thing that came to mind.
“He’s a good boy,” Chip said, stroking the horse’s neck. “His name is Fitz.”
“Fitz?” Alana repeated with a laugh, jumping back and out of the way when the horse gave a loud and wet snort. “That’s a weird name for a horse, isn’t it?” Although she only had examples like Mouse and Penny as comparisons.
“It’s short for Fitzpatrick. He’s an Irish Thoroughbred, and he was a champion jumper before he was retired and sold as a trail horse.”
“Oh,” Alana said sadly, brushing the horse’s bangs out of his eyes and commiserating with his fall from grace. Neither one of them thought they’d end up here, when he was enjoying the glory days of competitions and she was planning events at a five-star hotel.
“He’s the fanciest horse we have here,” Chip continued. “I figured he’d be the best choice to lead the trail rides with you.”
Alana’s hand stilled on the horse’s forehead. The sentence had been comprehensible until the addition of with you. She stepped back and looked Chip directly in the eyes. She had been letting small questions slide because she didn’t want to seem difficult, but she needed to make her position clear.
“I don’t lead trail rides,” she said, adding a shake of her head for emphasis. “I schedule activities and help guests plan their stays. From my desk. In the lodge.”
“No,” Chip said, lengthening the vowel for several beats. “You make sign-up sheets for trail rides, barbecues, and white-water rafting trips. And then you lead them. I know your experience is more with competitions rather than trail rides, but the basics are the same.”
Alana desperately tried to recall details from the job posting and their Skype interview. How much had been overtly said about her duties here and how much had she assumed to be true, based on her past work experiences? She opened her mouth to ask, but Chip started talking in rapid-fire sentences before she could speak.
“You have to stay. You can’t leave. You’re the ideal person for this job, and I couldn’t believe I found you. Especially after three other people quit. I thought I’d be able to open sooner, but there’s so much to do. Do you realize how much there is to do with a place like this? And then the carpets were wrong, and the electrician left before he finished the wiring. And then you came along.” He opened his arms in an expansive gesture, as if she’d been the answer to his prayers. “With your degree and experience. And you love horses and fishing and rafting.”
Alana bit her lip. She had forgotten about the fishing part. She really had gone overboard with that dratted cover letter. She held up her hands to stop his flow of words. His voice was starting to sound panic-filled, and she realized he wasn’t as cavalier about the grand-opening delays as she had thought.
“I’m happy to be here, really I am,” she said. Which was not necessarily a lie since she had been relieved when someone seemed willing to take a chance on her, even without any work references. She realized now that she had been more focused on that relief than on the actual job at hand—it was just a way to start over, after all. Now she was beginning to see that Chip had been feeling the same way—relieved to have someone qualified who could fill a huge staff vacancy and not overly concerned about checking references or qualifications.
“I just…I’m not a good enough rider or…or rafter to be in charge of guests. I can stay if you want me to, but I really can only accept a desk job.”
“A place like this won’t have enough business at first—if ever—to justify a full-time concierge position. One or two trail rides a day, a few rafting trips a week. I’ve had to cancel reservations as it is, since I had planned to open months ago, so we won’t be likely to have more than a dozen guests at a time until we get established.” His face brightened at the thought. “So you don’t have to worry. You’ll be able to start with small groups and build your confidence before we have a full ranch. I read your application and I know you’re just being modest about your abilities, but once you’ve led a couple of rides, you’ll be fine. And Yakima Expeditions does all the work with the white-water rafting trips. All you have to do is go along and make sure everyone has a fun, safe time.”
Alana looked at the horse standing quietly beside her. How hard could it be to lead a trail ride at a walk? Or sit on a raft? Probably a lot harder than it sounded, but she had always prided herself on her ability to quickly pick up new skills. And to bluff her way along until she was the expert she claimed to be. Like Chip said, the groups would be small at first, and she had at least a month to learn before any guests arrived.
She nodded. “All right, I’ll do it. It isn’t wh
at I expected, but I won’t let you down.” Or me. The rules of the game might have changed, but her need to resuscitate her fading career hopes remained the same.
“Great,” he said. He looked as if he was about to hug her in relief but settled instead for clapping her on both shoulders. “You’re going to be great. You’ll love it here, and so will the guests.”
Apparently she wasn’t the only one desperately clinging to any glimmer of positivity she could find.
“Now, I know I said you’d have this first weekend free to explore Yakima and get settled, but I could use a hand here for a couple hours if you don’t mind. We’ll get you working with the horses right away, so you can get a feel for their personalities.”
“Oh, I’m not dressed for riding,” Alana said, backing away from the fence.
“Not riding. You’ll have all month to ride them. Today, they just need vaccines.”
“You want me to give them shots?” She had no idea where she’d stick a needle, and she was sure that making the wrong decision would likely get her kicked or chomped on.
Chip laughed. “No. The vet will do the shots. You just need to halter the horses one at a time and hold them for her.”
Halter and hold them. She could probably manage to do that, as long as she had a few minutes to use her phone to find a tutorial or diagram online. She was pretty sure the purple nylon thing hanging from Fitz’s gate was a halter.
“Fine, no problem,” she said in what she hoped was a breezy tone. She glanced at her phone’s screen. “By the way, what’s the lodge’s Wi-Fi password? I just need to check something before I get started here.”
“Chiperoo96.”
“Is that the password the guests will use?”
“Sure.” He shrugged, and she looked at him in silence for a few moments.
“Oh,” he said. “I should make it something more professional, shouldn’t I? See? You’re already making the ranch better, and you just got here. Come on, I’ll show you where we keep the horses’ medical records.”