“And when you’re not out working, you’re working here?”
“Yeah.” He pointed toward the barn area. “That indoor arena is a big deal for her and us. We can start boarding a helluva lot of horses in the valley when it’s built. There’s no other place in Wind River Valley that has an indoor arena where you can ride and train your horse during the long winters around here. Shay estimates that when it’s all done and open for business, we can rent out stalls and box stalls amounting to five thousand dollars a month. But that includes us paying for the horse’s hay, too, and that’s damned expensive. And don’t forget about the grain they’ll get daily. Another expense.”
“So,” Reese murmured, leaning against the counter, “what’s the net monthly, do you think?”
“I estimate twenty-five hundred.” He smiled a little. “But Shay, being ever the optimist, thinks it’s a thousand dollars more. A bale of hay is a hundred bucks. A horse will eat through an eighty-pound bale in ten days—maybe more, maybe less, depending upon how hard he’s being worked. Do you have any background in animals or ranching?”
“Enough,” Reese answered. “Is there a business plan written up on this project so I can take a look at it?”
Garret gave a short laugh. “You gotta be kidding me. Shay keeps it all in her head. Just like her old man did when he was running this place into the ground. I’ve tried to get her to write it out. There’s an SBA, Small Business Administration, office here in Wind River, but I can’t convince her to go talk to those folks. They could help her a lot, plus teach her how to create a business plan.” He shrugged. “The truth is she’s juggling a whole lotta balls up in the air, Lockhart, and some of them fall. She’s doing too much. Her heart’s in the right place, but she’s one person. She needs help. I tried to help her on the accounting, but her brain is like W. C. Fields’s desk—with fifty files piled up on top of one another. Only she knows which file is where.” He gave Reese a sour look.
Sipping his coffee, Reese murmured, “She’s trusting me to look at the books. Maybe you and I can sit down alone and you can give me the intel I need? Then I can create some business plans, some models, and we can honestly know what the net income monthly liquid cash flow would be on that arena and other areas. And what kind of cash she’s really pulling in monthly, right now.”
“Damn good idea,” Garret growled. He finished with the celery, putting it in a bowl and dragging over a large yellow onion, quickly chopping it up into small, diced pieces. “Shay’s strength is her heart, her passion. She doesn’t have a head for business, although she’s trying damned hard to learn what she needs to do on the fly.”
“You seem to have some business background?”
Garret hitched up one thick shoulder. “My dad runs a small construction equipment rental business. I grew up around accounting books and business plans. Some of it rubbed off, but not everything.” He gave Reese a hard look. “And you’re exactly what she needs. She told me you have a degree in business administration. If anyone is going to help her out, it will be you.”
“What about Harper?”
“He’s a handyman, not a numbers man. The guy can fix anything. And I mean anything. He’s got magic in those hands of his. But he’s not gonna be able to help you with those books.”
“Okay, how about Noah?”
“Interestingly, Noah’s dad runs a big-time construction company in Driggs, Idaho. Right across the border from us. Noah knows how to operate machinery, but always loved working with animals—horses and dogs—more than anything else. He’s good at assessing costs of construction projects, though. He’d be a go-to guy for that kind of intel.”
“Does Noah see his folks much?”
Garret grimaced. “Do any of us see our parents?”
Raising his brows, Reese nodded and said nothing. “Okay, so you and me? We’re going to take an hour and sit down in the office and you can catch me up to speed on the accounting, the budget, and where Shay’s at money-wise.”
“Be happy to.” He wiped his hands, glanced at the clock and said, “Let’s get to it. I gotta put those hens in the oven in about two hours.”
Pleased, Reese pushed off the counter, carrying his cup with him. He liked Garret’s can-do spirit. The man was sharp and communicated well. As they walked down the hall, he asked him, “Where did you serve in the military?”
“Iraq, and then got deployed to that hole, Afghanistan. Real armpit.”
Reese couldn’t disagree with him as he turned into the office. He was right: Garret Fleming had been deep black-ops. He pulled out the other chair in front of the desk for the wrangler who made the office look small. “Have a seat. Let’s get started.”
Chapter Five