“I’m stuffed,” groaned Susan.
“No way,” added Dusty.
“Seems all I did this week was eat, and eat, and eat,” moaned Amanda.
“Thank goodness, you’re here. I’m dying for something chocolate, totally decadent. Go fetch the dessert menu,” ordered Jeremy, grinning. “Just kidding, man. You can bring me the bill though. Dinner is on me tonight.”
“We should be treating you guys. You’re the newly-weds.” Dusty reached for his wallet.
“Forget it.” Jeremy waved away his offer. “You can pick up the tab when you guys return from your honeymoon.”
“Talk about horse before the cart,” whispered Susan.
But she silently considered the possibility that perhaps, some day, just maybe... And then she scolded herself for her wistfulness. Dusty didn’t require a mortgage now. Did he even need her either?
With her luck, Graham Smith would find Dusty a ranch somewhere in Wyoming.
Chapter 9
Susan arranged to meet Dusty for lunch at the diner around the corner from the Ellis Bank. Over breakfast, he’d told her he would meet with his financial advisor and arrange the transfer of his lottery funds to her bank where he intended to deal exclusively. Her Monday morning proved to be the normal chaotic start to another busy week. When she entered the diner, she spotted Dusty seated in a back booth.
“Hi!” Susan settled herself on the padded vinyl bench seat and swung her legs under the table. “I need a cup of coffee, and I need it now. I haven’t had a moment’s peace since I walked into the bank at eight thirty this morning.”
“Rough day?” inquired Dusty, reaching for her hand.
“Tellers are dropping like flies over there. I received two letters of resignation the minute I walked in. One is getting married out of state three weeks from now, and another one is moving at the end of summer because her husband has been transferred to New York.”
“You’ll find someone.”
“Even experienced tellers require a few weeks to get into the groove at a new location.” Susan waved at a waitress carrying a coffee carafe over to their table. “Decaf coffee please, Ellie, and I’ll have the pasta special. I’m expected back in a half hour.”
“No, problem, Ms. Sanders.” The waitress smiled while she poured Susan a cup of decaffeinated salvation.
“I’ll have the steak special,” added Dusty.
“Coming right up.” Ellie headed to the kitchen.
“I’d hoped you’d be free this afternoon.” Dusty’s shoulders slumped.
“Why?” asked Susan, blowing on the steaming brew and taking a tentative sip.
“Graham called my cell just a minute ago. He found a property he’s eager to show me.” Dusty grinned. “His exact words were ‘a little piece of heaven with a creek running through it’.”
“Sounds promising.” Susan grabbed her electronic organizer. “My last appointment is at two. I can get away by two-thirty or so, if heaven can wait that long.”
“Heaven can wait, but I’m not certain I’ll be able to.” Dusty groaned. “But I’ll force myself to sit patiently. I insist you check this place out with me. You’ll see things from a woman’s perspective that would go totally unnoticed by me.”
Susan leaned back in her seat and the waitress set her plate of spaghetti and meatballs in front of her. “Thanks, Ellie. That’s smells wonderful.”
“Let me know if you need anything else.” Ellie turned to Dusty. “Your steak will be out in two shakes. Would you like a cola refill?”
“Please. Just bring it with the steak. Don’t make a special trip.” Dusty grabbed his drink and polished it off.
“So, what did Graham tell you about this little piece of heaven?”
“Nothing much. He insisted I’d be happy with the place. But as you recall, I was happy with the last place. So, I’m not arriving with high expectations, nor am I going in with preconceived opinions. Just going to check out the place and see what it has to offer.” Dusty’s steak and pop refill arrived. “Thanks, Ellie.”
“Enjoy your meal,” she called over her shoulder as she hurried away.
“Let’s hope it’s at least as nice as the place in Bozeman, and Graham isn’t wasting your time having you view properties for the sake of showing you something.” Susan twirled her pasta on her fork and popped the last bite into her mouth. She downed the remains of her coffee, leapt out of her chair, and pecked Dusty’s cheek. “Got to go. See you at two-thirty.”
****
Dusty parked in the Ellis Bank parking lot at two-thirty on the nose and discovered Susan leaning against the front entrance’s wrought iron railing, arms crossed, waiting for him. He leapt out of the driver’s seat, hurried around the truck to help Susan into the vehicle. She wore those darn fool high heels to work every day, and he imagined crawling into a truck with over-sized tires wasn’t on her daily to-do list. He swept her up in his arms and gently placed her on the passenger seat. “Sorry, I left my step ladder in my other pants.”
Susan laughed and snapped her seatbelt into place. “My two o’clock appointment called at two-ten to inform me she couldn’t make it,” she explained through the open passenger window. “Her child’s school called and her daughter was taken to the hospital with a possible allergic reaction to glue or something. She was in art class when she took ill.”
“I hope she’s okay. You could have sent me a text or called.” Dusty headed around the truck to the driver’s side.
“Wouldn’t have mattered. I just now cleared everything off my desk. But another mound will be waiting for me in the morning.” Susan leaned against the back of the pickup’s bucket seat and sighed. “Corporate America should eliminate Mondays and then my job would be much more rewarding.”
“As if.” Dusty scoffed. “Everyone would just curse Tuesdays instead.”
“You’re probably right. A bad day is a bad day.”
“Being unseated by a bucking horse and landing in a pile of horse dung. Now that’s having a bad day.” Dusty chuckled and glanced over at Susan. He backed out of the parking spot and turned onto the street.
“Just drive us to the realtor’s office,” said Susan, disgustedly. You didn’t have to be dumped into horse manure to have a terrible day. Ringing telephones, computers acting up, and two no-show client appointments. She’d experienced it all today.
A half hour later, they were headed to the ranch property which to both Dusty and Susan’s surprise was situated only twenty minutes east of the outskirts of Helena. Graham Smith insisted they take his Lexus, and Susan and Dusty prepared themselves for another white-knuckled excursion. Graham’s driving was impeccable.
“Now, folks, I’ve got to tell you in all honesty...”
“Oh-oh. When someone starts a conversation with ‘in all honesty’ my first instinct is to turn tail and run,” drawled Dusty, jokingly.
“Well, I don’t blame you none either. But hear me out. Now I haven’t seen the property myself yet because it just came on the market this morning, and we’re the first to view it. When I read the description on the listing I almost dropped my coffee mug. This property is custom made for you, Dusty. The specs on this ranch sounded like you made this fellow a list, and he built it for you.”
“That good?”
“I’m telling you. If this ranch even comes close to the specs on the listing sheet, your heart might stop when you see it.” Graham beamed. “Dusty, I’m just so blame excited for you. After your disappointment in Bozeman, I’m hoping this place lives up to the hype.”
“Me, too,” said Dusty, peering into the backseat and smiling at Susan. “Hopefully, this is right up my alley, and we can prepare an offer right away.”
Susan held up her hands, indicating her fingers were crossed. She mouthed the words ‘please, God, please’ and smiled.
Graham turned off the main road and headed south for a quarter mile. They spotted an enormous overhanging sign as they drove closer. East Canyon Ranch.
&
nbsp; Dusty whistled long and low while Graham approached the larger of the two barns each painted brick red with white trim. “That barn doesn’t look very old, or else they maintained it well.”
“Spec sheet mentioned the original barn had been constructed over eighty years ago, but renovations had been ongoing over the years. And the single-story, sprawling ranch house is old, but several upgrades and extensive redecorating were completed three years ago.” Graham turned the vehicle off, released his seatbelt, and clambered out.
Dusty and Susan followed suit and slowly did a one-eighty taking it all in. “The spec sheet mention how breathtaking this place is?” inquired Dusty.
“My good Lord, that damn spec sheet doesn’t do this place justice.” Graham tugged his Stetson off and scratched his head. “This place is unbelievable.”
Dusty shook his head. “I’m afraid to ask, but what the hell is the price tag on this place?”
Graham met his eyes. “It’s three million, but at first glance, I dare say it may be under priced.”
“Hells bells, I’m not certain I want to go that high. I suppose if I buy something lower and then renovate, I’d probably end up spending nearly the same.”
“Let’s go look for the owner.” Graham consulted his sheet. “Brock Thompson is the man’s name.”
“Howdy, folks.” A spry gray-haired man strode toward them.
Dusty figured the guy for seventy at least, but you’d never guess it by his stride. He silently wagered he’d be hard pressed to keep up to him. “Dusty MacFarland.” He stuck out his hand.
The introductions were made and hands were shaken in turn.
“Now, I realize it’s not customary for the owner to hang around while the potential buyers are looking the place over,” explained Brock. “But my wife passed a few months ago...”
“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” interjected Susan. “You must miss her so much.”
“Yes, I do. It gets pretty lonely here, especially at night. Hate watching Jeopardy by myself. Nobody to brag to when I know an answer anymore.” Brock smiled, weakly. “As I was saying, my wife’s gone and we were childless, so I’ve no heirs to hand the place down to.”
Dusty and Susan exchanged knowing looks.
“No chance of another fiasco like the father and son debacle in Bozeman,” whispered Susan.
“Thank goodness for that,” added Dusty.
“Anyway, I told the realtor that I’d list the place, but I wanted to meet all potential buyers. I’ve worked hard all my life and this land isn’t just a piece of property. It’s my entire life’s work. Bought this place a few months before I got engaged to the woman I spent the past fifty years with. We intended to raise sons and daughters here. But Sue and me, well, we never had any kids.”
“Your wife’s name was Sue? Was that an abbreviation for Susan by any chance?”
“Yes, young lady, but everyone just called her Sue.”
“I’ve always gone by Susan.”
“Well, maybe your husband should buy the place. Perhaps it’s meant to be...”
“I’m not his wife, just his financial advisor.” Susan perpetuated the spiel they’d given the realtor in Bozeman. And then she noticed the murderous expression on Dusty’s face, felt herself blush. She supposed she had moved up a notch or two from financial advisor considering their changed living arrangements.
“Well, Graham,” said Brock, meeting the realtor’s eyes. “Let’s give these folks the nickel tour.”
“More like the three million dollar tour,” muttered Dusty.
“You consider the price a little steep?” asked Brock.
“No, I’m just not certain I’m prepared to dump that much capital into the land. Don’t want to leave myself short of operating capital.” Dusty shook his head.
“Operating capital for what?” inquired Brock.
While the foursome toured the entire ranch, which included two barns, storage and feed sheds, corrals, well house, ranch house, even the garden shed and double car garage, Dusty explained his plans for whatever property he eventually bought.
“That sounds like an extremely ambitious enterprise, son, but I can’t think of anything more rewarding or worthwhile than helping out a bunch of children.” Brock’s arm circled Dusty’s shoulders in a fatherly fashion. “Let’s head back to the house again. I brew a damn fine cup of coffee if I do say so myself. We’ll toss some numbers around and talk business.”
Dusty grinned. “Susan is a corporate banker, and I doubt she regards land purchase negotiations involving millions of dollars to be ‘tossing some numbers around’.”
Brock chuckled. “Well, I like you, Dusty. And I like what you’ve got planned for your ranch. I’m hoping you buy my ranch because just from talking with you I know you’re going to do right by the place. Build something to hand down to your sons, God willing He blesses you with a little tyke or two.”
“Should convince some woman to marry me first,” said Dusty.
“Well, you don’t have far to look to find a good woman.” Brock nodded in Susan’s direction. She’d discovered the flower and vegetable gardens in the back yard. “Work on the convincing part.”
“Maybe I’ll just do that.” Dusty grinned.
Fifteen minutes later, the foursome sat around the back deck patio table. Dusty found himself surrounded by assorted papers, and Brock kept adding more as the conversation progressed. By the time an hour lapsed, they’d discussed feed costs, utility costs, taxes, memberships in several equine organizations Brock belonged to over the years, and the name of the fragrant flowers in the planter beside the back door.
“So, Dusty. You’re reluctant to spend three million on a ranch. What figure had you decided would be your top end?” Brock leaned back in his chair, stifling a yawn.
Dusty glanced at his watch. Four fifteen. He realized the old guy probably needed a nap. They’d been touring, visiting, negotiating, and discussing things for several hours. “Two point five. But I’m thinking that this place is really...”
“Done!” Brock slapped the table with his hand.
“What’s done?” Dusty frowned, met Graham’s eyes, and returned his attention to Brock. “That’s it? If I won’t meet your price of three million, you’re done without even discussing a lower offer?”
“Hell, no. The negotiations are done, son. I just sold you the ranch for two point five million like you hoped for.” Brock leaned forward in his chair. “I couldn’t ask for a nicer young fellow to purchase this place, to maintain it meticulously like I have, to love the land the way I have, and to operate a charitable facility in conjunction with a profitable ongoing business.”
“But...but...but...” stammered Dusty.
“If I’d had a son, I hope he would have grown up like you. Responsible, ambitious, kind, considerate. You’re a dang good man, Dusty MacFarland. And I insist you buy this ranch.”
Dusty felt himself grinning like a damn lunatic. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He could buy the ranch for two point five million and still retain a million dollar operating cushion, with no renovations or repairs required at all.
And then he noticed the frown on Brock’s face. He should have known it was too good to be true. The guy had something on his mind, and by his expression Dusty wasn’t going to like it.
“What are you thinking?” inquired Dusty. “Just spit it out.”
“I’ve lived for over fifty years on this ranch, bought it right after I graduated college years ago. My foster mother believed I’d signed up for law school, but I enrolled in business instead. Certainly helped keep this place afloat during the lean years.”
“Why do you think I showed up with my own financial advisor?” asked Dusty, patting Susan’s hand.
“There you go now. Add ‘wise’ to that list of your accolades. And about that half million dollars I just stuck back in your pocket.” Brock met Dusty’s eyes, expectantly.
“Yeah, what about it?”
“I’d like a litt
le something in return.” Brock leaned in close. “Is there an icicle’s chance in hell you’d allow an old fart like me to work alongside you out here?”
“What?” asked Graham.
Susan blurted, “At your age, you should enjoy your retirement. Surely, there’s something you’d rather be doing than working.”
“Why would you...” asked Dusty.
Brock waved his hand for silence. “At seventy-three I couldn’t hope to keep up with you young folks on a daily basis. But I’d be willing to move into the assistant foreman’s cabin out by the creek. Naturally, your foreman would live in the big cabin up by the woods. Fact is I’d do dang near anything to avoid moving into one of those senior places in the city. If you buy my ranch, I’d appreciate sticking around, watching you make a success of it. And I’d love to help with the horses a bit every day and lend a hand with those kids when you need me.”
“Let me get this straight. In exchange for a roof over your head you provide a bit of free labor when the mood strikes?” asked Dusty.
“Providing my arthritis isn’t acting up.” Brock grinned. “If it’s a rainy day my old bones will be aching for sure. Don’t be looking for old Brock to be mucking out horse stalls that day. Ain’t gonna happen.”
Dusty laughed. “Cold weather in January same thing?”
“Most likely.” Brock nodded. “But a nice day like today I could be mighty handy, given half a chance.”
“If your family doesn’t object I think...”
“Don’t have family. Both my wife and I were raised as foster children, and our foster parents passed years ago. Sue couldn’t have children, so it’s just me left.” Brock shrugged his shoulders.
“That’s a little sad, isn’t it?” observed Susan. “You’ve built this beautiful place, and there’s no one to leave your legacy to.”
“Yep, you’re right about that.” Brock tilted his head. “But I expect living here with you nice folks would soon feel like family.”
“Well, there would just be me, Brock. Susan isn’t my wife. Of course, I’d hire people to help with the horses so there’d be a bunkhouse filled with hands soon enough. Also a cook to feed the lot of us.” Dusty smiled, unable to contain his excitement. He actually looked forward to having the old guy around for company, and Brock could definitely serve as a free consultant on any number of matters.
When Dreams Collide Page 10