“Amen to that,” Garret said. “I’ll bake a pineapple upside-down cake for all of us, to celebrate.”
Everyone oohed and aahed. Reese figured that pineapple upside-down cake must be a favorite. He saw the men giving Shay concerned looks. It was clear to him these men loved her like a little sister. The wranglers wanted to make her happy. Wanted to support her. There was such a team atmosphere at this ranch that Reese felt like a lucky man times ten to have ended up here.
In his own way, Reese would contribute to Shay and her ranch. Accounting wasn’t glamorous work; just the opposite. Pushing numbers around was seen as boring to most people, yet to Reese it was the most important job for a business to undertake. He wondered how Shay would react to his news later when they met in the office to go over the accounting information he’d gleaned from the ranch’s books.
*
Shay nervously stood in front of the office desk as Reese wandered in after her. Her hands were damp and cold. They’d left the washing and drying of the dishes to Harper and Noah, whose turn it was tonight. After a dessert of the pineapple upside-down cake, they’d excused themselves.
Reese closed the door and pulled out a chair for Shay. Then, he sat down next to her at the desk.
“Seriously? You haven’t found anything yet?” she asked, unable to contain herself. She saw Reese give her a look that didn’t do anything to quell her suspicions.
“Nothing yet, Shay. But I do have some questions for you.”
She gulped and gave him a wary glance. “Sure.”
Reese had three ledgers spread out across the cleaned-up desk. “There’s twenty ledgers in total, going back to when your family’s ranch was created in 1895. But I was only interested in the books from when your father, Ray, took over the reins of the ranch.”
“Okay,” she said. “My father drove Ned off about fifteen years before he got that stroke. Ned had taken care of the books since before I was born. It was heartbreaking. Ned was like an uncle to me. I cried when my father suddenly fired him.”
“And then your father took over the books at that time?” Reese asked.
Licking her lower lip, she said, “Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that. My mom, Wanda, was a self-trained bookkeeper, but it sure didn’t rub off on me. She had been taught by Ned. So, he asked her to take over for him. Then she died of breast cancer when I was ten. My father hired Dan, another bookkeeper, but within six months, he fired him and took over the books himself.”
Frowning, Reese asked, “Why did he fire Dan? Do you know?”
“No, my mom was gone. My father never communicated much with me, and I was unaware of what was going on at the ranch. I don’t know why he fired him. My father tended to drive good people away from the Bar C.”
“I see.” Reese took a piece of paper and a sharpened pencil, writing down the chronology. “Because,” he said, lifting his head and holding her gaze, “there’s different types of handwriting making the entries. Maybe you can look at them and tell me whose each is?” He opened the third book. “This must be your mother’s writing?” He turned the book around and slid it toward the edge of the desk toward Shay.
“Yes . . . that’s my mom’s writing.”
Reese turned a few pages to a particular date and said, “This one?”
“I think that’s Dan’s handwriting. I don’t know for sure, but if it is, you’ll see my father’s scrawl after he fired him.”
Reese turned until he found the scrawl and showed it to her.
“Yes, that’s my father’s handwriting.”
Reese opened the beginning of the book. “Then this must be Ned’s?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Was Ray trained in accounting, Shay?”
“No. Why?”
“Well, there’s some inconsistencies. I’ve found that they start here.”
Blanching, she stared at the book and then up at Reese, her heart starting to beat harder. “What kind?”
Shrugging, Reese murmured, “Too early to tell. I just stumbled upon them a few hours ago.”
Resting her fingers against her throat, Shay swallowed hard. “Well . . . if there are mistakes . . . then I perpetuated them when I took over.” Her voice was little more than a strained sound. She saw Reese’s eyes grow kind as he looked at her. Instead of feeling blame coming from him, she felt the warmth of his protection, which she was beginning to crave. It always soothed the anxiety that prowled around within her. Tamped it down. Put a leash on it.
“Most likely, but look, the sky is not falling, okay?” He grinned a little to help relieve her anxiety.
Shay whispered unsteadily, barely holding his gaze. “My father’s an alcoholic, and that could well play into any mistakes he made.”
“You told me that earlier. Is that what landed him in the nursing home?”
“Right. He used to gamble and was a heavy drinker from the time I could remember. He suffered a stroke, and it affected his mind, too.” Her mouth quirked. “I don’t know how a drunk could keep good books, do you?”