“Yeah.”
“Do I have any say in it?”
Chase shrugged. “Your say comes in after, seems to me. If we said no, we’re keeping Cal here, that would be that. If Cal says no thanks, you hired me for this not that, same thing. So your say comes in after that’s settled one way or the other.”
Bodine drummed her fingers on the table. “And what did Cal have to say about it?”
“Haven’t gotten to that, as I talked to Abe then got called in to dinner. I figured to run it by him in the morning.”
“I’ll do the running by, thanks all the same.”
“Fine with me. Don’t know why you’d get your back up about it.”
In answer, Bodine put on her sweetest—and scariest—smile. “I’ll explain it then. Abe should have come to me, as I’m being asked to hold two key positions open from November until April. That’s one. He should have come to me to discuss whether I approved taking Callen Skinner as my full-time horse manager from now till April—which is just what you should’ve told him. Then I decide on all that before—if I decide yes—I come to you and Dad and ask if you can let me have Cal for this length of time. Given that’s yes, I ask Callen if he’d agree to that.”
Chase shrugged again. “Looks to me like we got to the same point, and maybe a little quicker.”
“Quicker’s not the point.” Frustrated, and a little insulted, Bodine threw up her hands. “The ranch and the resort are separate entities. That was the smart and practical decision made back when Nana decided to expand the dude ranch. There’s paperwork involved, a salary to negotiate, a job description, a contract.”
“You’d have all that either way,” Chase pointed out.
“Aw, Bo’s just steamed up because Abe came to you instead of her.”
Maureen aimed a cool look at her younger son. “She’s right to be. The men may outnumber the women at this table, but that doesn’t give you more weight. And right is right. Abe should have gone to his boss, and that’s Bo. I’m going to attribute that mistake to his stress and worry over Edda. I hope you’ll do the same, Bodine, and give him some understanding on it.”
Anger deflated, a little. “I can. I do. But—”
“The ranch and the resort are like you say.” Sam continued to sip his whisky. “They’re separate. Your grandmother was smart enough to see, all those years back, that your uncles weren’t going to be able to put in all the time and work needed to run a ranch of this size, and none of their boys—or girls”—he added with a glance at his wife—“showed any interest. So she worked up the dude ranch, saw how she could draw on that and keep the working ranch.”
He took his time, sipped his whisky. Not a person sitting at the table would have thought to interrupt.
“Then after I came into it, she put her head together with her mother and yours, and came up with big plans. No question we’ve got smart, forward-thinking women in this family, and we have two business enterprises that provide us with the life we want to live, in the place we want to live it. And they both honor your granddaddy’s memory. But they’re not just business enterprises, and we’re never going to forget that.”
“No, sir,” Bodine said. “I don’t forget that.”
“I know you don’t, though there are times I miss seeing you around, in the paddocks, in the stable, in the barn. A man can miss his girl.”
“Daddy.”
“He can miss her and be proud at the same time. What we can’t forget, and don’t, is what we have, what we’ve made—starting with your grandmother—is a community, and a family. Abe’s worried about his wife, and doing everything he can to take care of her—whether or not she wants it. And knowing Edda, she’s put up some fight over it. I don’t think he meant any disrespect to you by talking it out with Chase first.”
“He probably didn’t.” But Bodine still aimed a stare at Chase.
“I just talked to the man, and now I’ve told you what’s what. You just let me know what you decide.”
“I’ll do that.” She rose. “I’m going to take a walk, figure out how to handle all this.”
Rory waited until Bodine was safely out of earshot. “Jeez, what’s the big deal? Mucho sensitivo. It’s just—”
He broke off and withered under his mother’s stare. “Until you work in a man’s world without a penis, you can hush about it. You can think about that while you help Clementine clear and wash up.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Within five minutes, Chase sat alone with his father at the table. “I just talked to the man,” Chase said again. “And I’m offering to let her have, if he’s agreeable, our best horseman—one we just acquired—for a solid four months.”
“It’s a balancing act, son. Women, business, family. It’s all a balancing act. How about you and me go out on the front porch, smoke a couple of cigars, and complain about women? Doing that now and again helps the balance.”
“I’ll get my coat.”
*
Bundled in her own coat, Bodine walked off the lingering mad in the cold, clear air. Overhead, the countless sweep of stars shimmered as pinprick lights in an indigo sky. The moon, nearly full, sailed—a round, white ship over quiet seas.
The air around her moved briskly, carrying the scent of pine and snow and animal. She heard a cow low, an owl call, saw the slinking shadow of one of the barn cats.
The two happy mutts, Clyde and Chester, raced around her for a while; then, since she didn’t seem interested in play, they raced off to find their own fun.
As the mad cleared, she used the room to lay out a plan for what to do next. She’d need to speak to Abe and Edda, and since her father was right about community and family, she needed to rid herself of resentment before she did. Once rid of it, she still needed to make it clear that the buck started and stopped with her.
She’d need to make one of the housekeeping staff temporary head. Otherwise, she’d end up dealing with the scheduling and minor issues every week. Potentially daily.
And she needed to prepare herself, to have another plan waiting in the event that two of her key people decided to retire altogether rather than come back.
The idea made her sad, just sad. Abe and Edda had been key staff at her grandmother’s early incarnation of the dude ranch, and had stuck with them through all of the changes, all of the expansions.
She could and would find qualified replacements, if necessary. But they wouldn’t be Abe and Edda, and for some reason, accepting that made her feel lonely as well as sad.
She turned toward the stables instead of the shack. Callen could wait a bit longer.
After unlatching the big door, she walked inside, inside the scents of horses, hay, manure, grain, liniment, and leather.