Reese observed the hundreds of acres enclosed next to the road. “Are you following your father’s idea of leasing your good land to other ranchers?”
“Yes, trying to.” She gave him a frustrated look. “My father never kept anything on paper. It was all in his head. I’m having to contact these ranchers individually and find out the details. We can keep cattle up here for summer grazing only, and then they have to be trucked south to survive. Most of the ranchers truck their herds to Colorado or Utah, where the winters are less harsh and the cattle don’t die like they will up here in Wyoming.”
“So, your father left you a mess?”
“You could say that.”
“And you’re busy, so it’s like putting out one fire after another?” Reese gave her an understanding look. Shay’s cheeks colored a little.
“That’s it in a nutshell. I’m so overworked. I need an office assistant for sure.”
“Well, maybe I can help you. I’m pretty good with organizing and getting things lined up.” He saw sudden hope come to her expression. His fingers positively itched to thread through her gleaming light brown hair.
“I’d love any help you can give me to get this ranch on more stable ground,” she said, slowing and turning into the Bar C.
Reese got his first good look at the huge ranch. There was a two-story log house, probably built of spruce and pine, sitting a quarter mile down the gravel road. It was at least four thousand square feet, huge, and he wondered when it had been built. There were fenced pastures on either side of the road, and they didn’t look in good repair. As she drove closer, Reese began to understand that Shay’s father had not kept this ranch up. It was broken down. A disaster.
There was a white picket fence surrounding half the ranch house, but the posts were chipped and in dire need of sanding and a new coat of paint. His gaze moved with knowledge over the log structure. The plaster between the long, rounded logs needed a lot of repair work, too. He saw a golden retriever come bounding down the road, pink tongue hanging out, barking as the truck drew near.
“That’s Max. He’s my dog. Hold on . . . he loves to ride in the back of the pickup.”
Reese watched Shay climb out, the dog barking joyously, wagging his thick, yellow tail, licking Shay’s hands in welcome. His heart swelled with emotion as he heard Shay laugh, hug the dog, and then walk around to the rear, opening the truck gate. Max leaped up into the bed. Shay shut the gate and came back to the cab.
“He loves to ride in the truck, but I don’t let him ride in the back anywhere but here on the ranch. It’s too dangerous to put a dog in the rear of a truck out on the highway.”
“For sure,” Reese agreed. He saw such a change in Shay’s face. Maybe she did wear a bit of a mask. Not a game face, but when Max greeted her, he saw her relax completely, vulnerable to her dog. After all, most people let down their shields anytime they were around their pets. He tucked that observation away. In no time, they were parked in front of the log house.
“Welcome home, Reese.”
He felt like someone had punched him in the chest as she slid out of the cab. Home. He had a home but couldn’t go there. At least, not yet. Not until he could get control of his life once more. Reese knew how much it hurt his parents that he’d left, unable to live beneath their roof. He made a point to stay in regular touch with them. When he hit a new town, he’d go to the library and use one of their computers and send them an email so they wouldn’t worry about him.
Shay pulled down the tailgate and her dog leaped out. As he emerged from the truck, the playful, happy golden retriever came around, licking his hand with hellos.
Smiling, Reese bent down, caressing the dog’s head. His brown eyes were large, intelligent, and filled with utter joy over meeting him. His tail was wagging with excitement. It made him feel good. He saw Shay walk around to his side of the truck.
“Do you like dogs?”
“Love them.” He straightened. “Can I take that dog food in the back somewhere for you?”
“No,” Shay said. “Garret will get it. He knows where it goes.” She smiled up at him. “First things first. You need to come in and I’ll show you the two bedrooms. You can make a choice and we’ll get you settled in first.”
Reese pulled his sacks out of the back of the truck and followed her up the six wooden steps that had once been painted a bright red. The paint had been worn away by the hard winters in this area. The wraparound porch was enclosed with a railing and he saw a couple of rockers at one end, plus a large swing suspended from the ceiling at the other end. Everything needed maintenance, he realized. Hell, he did too. This ranch reflected him in every way.