He’d taken a quick look at the books before he had turned the accounts over to the financial firm he’d hired to run the numbers. PRC turned a modest profit, and JM and the rest of the family had made decent money from it. But whether Mandy could sustain the business and whether operating it would provide the best return on investment versus the alternative of investing money from a sale into land development, for instance, was the question he’d been tasked with answering.
Because if Ty didn’t think Mandy could assure Prescott’s place in the industry—and that meant holding on to contracts, expanding and improving the bucking bulls to be competitive for the AFBR, and going toe to toe with competitors to get in on the big events—JM had instructed him to sell the enterprise and do it before the Prescott name lost any of its luster.
Ty heard the clang of boots on the walk and felt the slap on his back before he could turn around. Stan Lassiter wasn’t heavy, but his height and barrel stomach made him appear big and formidable. Ty had met Lassiter at JM’s funeral but knew him mostly by reputation, a reputation as a cagey stock contractor with a winner-take-all business strategy. And JM had warned Ty not to trust him.
“Thought I’d find you here,” Lassiter said, his voice sounding like pebbles in a ceramic cup.
“Stan.” Ty straightened and slid his hand over Stan’s for a firm shake.
He’d let Stan do all the talking. Ty had learned long ago that, with some people, not saying much could elicit a lot more information than leading the conversation.
“Was hoping to speak with you.” Stan was dressed for work in a plaid shirt, denims, and scuffed boots. Most contractors were hands-on kinds of guys, like JM had been, and Stan was no exception.
“About what?”
From under the shadow of his hat brim, Stan scanned the arena. “Mandy with you?”
“She’s coming with the livestock. I got here ahead of them.”
Stan nodded as if he agreed with the decision. He stuck a boot up on the metal railing and hunched his frame over the top bar. “Word is you’re running Prescott now.”
“Temporarily.” Ty eased back against the rail so he could see Stan’s face. He could tell a lot from a man’s facial expressions.
Stan averted his gaze and focused on some imaginary spot in the center of the arena. “Until you sell, you mean? I’m letting you know I’m interested.
“In what?”
Stan scowled. His brown eyes widened. “In buying the damn company. And the sooner the better. Every day JM is not here to run it is another day a little value is lost. He was Prescott Rodeo Company, and Harold’s not enough to fill his shoes.”
“What about Mandy?” Ty pushed off the railing.
Stan snorted and drew his bushy graying brows into a V. “This business is no place for a woman. A very young woman at that. This is a tough industry, with lots of facets. I’ve seen her work the chutes, and I’ve watched her at meetings with her grandfather, and she’s in over her head.”
Something flared inside Ty, bringing with it a need to defend her. “She’s a good businesswoman, Stan,” he said, resting his clenched fists on his hips. “Has some viable plans for the company’s future.” JM had told him that expanding into the AFBR had been her idea. But having a good idea wasn’t the same as making it happen.
Stan leaned back and looked at Ty with cold, ash-gray eyes. “If that were the case, why are you running the company and not her? JM was a smart man, one whose judgment I respected. Word is you’re now a partner with controlling interest. He wouldn’t have done that, given it to someone outside the family, unless he wanted to sell it.”
“I am a partner,” Ty allowed. He wasn’t about to admit to more.
Stan’s eyes narrowed. “You’re not a stockman, Ty. And odds are you don’t want to be, or you’d have bought Prescott outright from JM. All I’m saying is that I’m interested. But now, while you’ve still got contracts and before Prescott loses its good name. JM was the brains and the shine of Prescott. Without him you’ve got nothing.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Stan looked frustrated as he let out a sigh. “I’ll tell you something, Ty. Something I don’t have to share, but I will. Already rodeos are calling me and asking if I can take them on if they pulled out of Prescott.” He arched his eyebrows, waiting for Ty’s reaction.
Having learned the lessons of hiding his feelings early in life, Ty held his face expressionless. “Thanks for the heads-up.”
Stan ran a hand through his hair. “Think on it. But not too long. Once the rodeo committees get jittery about a supplier, that supplier isn’t going to be worth much. I’d like to do right by JM’s family, but if the company loses value, I won’t be charitable about the price. So maybe you and I should catch up later and have a drink while you’re here.”
“Maybe.” Something about Stan Lassiter rubbed Ty the wrong way. He couldn’t put his finger on why, but just like JM, Ty didn’t trust him. In any event, Ty wasn’t about to appear too eager for the sale. In truth, he needed to see the numbers before he took any steps. Until then, there was no sense in fanning rumors of selling and getting rodeo organizers more nervous than Stan suggested they already were.