Sticking the spoon in the stew, Bodine followed him. Like her brother, she sat on the big couch, putting her feet up on the table.
“I called every seasonal I knew could handle being in charge. I need more than a rider. The handful I tried all have winter work already.” She ate stew, mulled on it. “I’ve got a few weeks before Abe’s gone to the damn desert, but I don’t like putting somebody up front I don’t know, I haven’t had a good chance to train. I’ve got Ben and Carol, but as good as they are, they’re not managers.”
“Use Cal.”
“Cal?”
“Yeah, he can switch back and forth easy enough. He’s as good as it gets with horses, and he’s a manager. You get too squeezed, Dad and I can fill some holes. Rory, too, or Mom. Hell, Nana can take trail rides. Rides pretty much every day anyway.”
“I went by to see her and Grammy today. Rode Three Socks. When Nana found out, she wanted to ride him back to the BAC for me. Got a little put out when I wouldn’t let her because of the snow. She shouldn’t be taking trail rides in the winter.”
In his deliberate way, Chase nodded, drank more beer. “She could do lessons.”
“Yeah, I’ve thought of that. She’d like it. Well, if I can pull from the ranch on this, at least while Abe’s gone, it would save me from finding somebody else. You’re not completely useless, Chase.”
“Me?” He swigged some beer. “I’ve got untapped uses.”
“I don’t suppose those uses run to where we come up with about ten miles of red velvet, a dozen gold candle stands—five feet high—and a female harpist in a red velvet dress.”
“For now, those remain untapped.”
“Linda-Sue’s wedding. Her mother came with her today, and added or changed or complained about every damn thing. A waste of mimosas,” Bodine muttered.
“You wanted to manage the place.”
“Yeah, and I love it, even on days like this. Besides, the velvet and the harpist and the gold? They’re Jessica’s problem. The fact she didn’t tell Dolly Jackson to shut the hell up proves I was smart to hire her.”
“Never figured she’d last this long.” Happy with his feet up, he studied the snow falling free outside the window. “And she hasn’t gotten through a Montana winter yet.”
“She’ll last. Why wouldn’t she?”
“City girl. East city.”
“And the best events manager we’ve had since Martha retired five years ago. I don’t have to check and recheck everything she does.”
“You do anyway.”
“Not as much as I did.” She looked out the wide window as Chase did, watched the snow fall against the dark. “We’re in for about a foot. I better text Len, make sure we’re getting the roads plowed.”
“Check and recheck.”
“That’s my job.” Bodine shifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Do you really think they’re up there in the tub together?”
“I’d bet money on it.”
“I don’t think I can go up there yet. I think I’m going to need another glass of wine first.”
“Get me another beer while you’re at it.” His gaze followed hers upward. “I’d just as soon give them another half hour before I head up myself.”
*
Bodine spent most of the next day checking the roads that wound through the resort, approving proposals, putting others on the back burner, and fast-tracking a request for new linens for cabins.
She’d just settled in to review the winter promotions—brochures, mailers, website, Facebook, and Twitter—when Rory strolled in.
He dropped into one of her chairs, sprawled out as if he planned to stay there awhile.
“I’m just taking a last pass at the winter promotions,” Bodine began.
“Good, because we’ve got a new one to plug in.”
“A new what?”
“Idea.” He glanced back with a smile when Jessica came in. “Here she is, my partner in crime. Mom’s tied up, but she’ll swing in if she gets loose.”
“What’s this about? The brochures are scheduled for printing tomorrow, and the spread on the website’s due to go live next week.”
“A few days later isn’t going to matter.”
Knowing that was exactly the wrong way to approach Bodine, Jessica gave Rory’s arm a pat—and a pinch—before she sat. “I think we can build on the interest we’ve generated in the last two years on the Cowboy Cookery event and the Bodine Rodeo.”
“The Bodine Rodeo’s our top-selling annual event,” Rory added. “But only about twenty-five percent who participate or buy tickets stay with us, eat in our restaurants, drink at our bar, use our services.”
“I’m aware, Rory. The bulk of the rodeoers have their own campers or RVs, or they bunk in motels. A lot of the ticket sales are for locals. The June Rope ’n Ride doesn’t generate the same ticket revenue, but pulls in more bookings. Some of it’s just the season.”
“Exactly.” He pointed at her. “Winter season, what have you got? You got snow. And more snow. People coming here from out East or California, they want a cowboy experience, the trail rides, the chuck wagon, buffalo burgers, and they want it with a thick coat of luxury.”
At home in a sales pitch, Rory crossed his fancy Frye boots at the ankles.
“You got some who come wintertime, scoot around on snowmobiles or like to snug up in a cabin and have a massage, but three or four feet of snow puts them off, so we lose that potential revenue. Why not use the snow to add revenue?”
Bodine had learned—though she could admit it had taken a while—not to look at Rory as her baby brother when it came to marketing.
“I’m listening.”
“Snow sculpture competition. A weekend event. Broad pictures? We’ll say four categories. Under twelve, twelve to sixteen, adult, and family. We award prizes, get the local media to cover it. And we offer a discount on cabins to participants for a two-day stay.”
“You want people to build snowmen?”
“Not snowmen,” Jessica put in. “Though that would be an option. Snow art, sculptures, like they do with sand sculpture competitions in Florida. You grid off a few acres, have a section for kids, supervised by staff. You serve hot chocolate and soup.”
“Snow cones.”
“Snow cones.” Rory shook his head at his sister. “I should’ve thought of that.”
“We provide tools—shovels, spades, palette knives, that sort of thing,” Jessica continued, “but the competitors have to come up with their own ornamentation, if they want to. We hold a meet and greet Friday night, assign locations, kick it off nine sharp Saturday morning.”
“You’re going to need activities for the younger kids,” Bodine considered. “Short attention spans, right? And they’d need to get out of the cold with something to do, foods, snacks. Adults, too, not planned activities, but a lot of them might want breaks.”