Reese felt anxiety flood him. Damn. He was hoping this was a dead issue. He pulled over his bowl of pudding. “Yes.”
Noah sat down next to him. “And? Did you find out what upset her?”
“No,” Reese said. He picked up the can of whipped cream. “You were right. She was upset. But I couldn’t pull answers out of her.”
“Shit,” Garret growled unhappily. “Shay is always telling us we should open up, but when it comes to her old man and herself, she’s buttoned up and never says nothing.”
“She’s a caregiver,” Harper reminded them. “She’s dividing time between us and her father. He’s a miserable son of a bitch to be around. And we’re not exactly whole, either. There’s a lot of stress coming at her from different angles. You shouldn’t be pissed at her, Garret.”
Garret glared at Noah. “I’m not angry at her. I’m angry at the situation, dude.”
“She won’t let us help her,” Harper told Reese.
“Yeah,” Noah said, shaking his head. “What’s wrong with this picture? It’s okay if she helps us, but when she clearly needs some support, she won’t allow us to do anything for her.”
Reese compressed his mouth. “Look, Shay has PTSD, too. She’s in the same place we are. She’s doing the best she can. No one said she was perfect.”
The men quieted. They focused on their dessert.
Reese felt the tension amp up at the table. Garret was upset, but it was because he was protective of Shay, too, and wanted to help her. And they were all looking at him to do or say something. It wasn’t spoken, but Reese could feel the pressure weighing on his shoulders.
“Well,” Garret muttered darkly, “she’s doing way too much. I’ve said that all along. She’s one woman and she does a helluva job, but she needs some serious help.”
“And she can’t hire an assistant because the ranch is this close to foreclosure”—Noah held up his thumb and index finger—“and we can’t do it because the three of us have odd jobs that bring in the money to cover that monthly mortgage payment.”
“We’re all busting our humps to the max,” Harper agreed quietly. “Reese? You’re about the only one she can lean on right now. We know you’ve taken over the daily accounting and other things that need to be done for the ranch. You’ve sort of become her assistant, and that’s a good thing.”
Reese quirked his mouth. “What Shay needs is a full-time office assistant. I’m pinch-hitting here and there. The rest of my day is spent out riding fences and repairing them.”
“We need more help,” Garret agreed, finishing off his pudding and pushing the bowl away from him. “But Shay can’t afford to hire more wranglers.”
“Hell,” Harper said, “she wouldn’t if she could. She wants vets like us.”
“Well,” Noah added, “Shay doesn’t have two nickels to rub together. Never mind having extra money to hire anyone else, vet or not.”
“She’s stretched too thin,” Garret growled. “I’ve been here the longest and I’ve watched her rescue this ranch from foreclosure, watched her trying to care for her father, Ray. She’s got one foot in her father’s issues and the other foot in trying to save the ranch.”
“And don’t forget, save our sorry asses, too,” Noah reminded them dryly.
“Yeah,” Garret grumped, sitting back, running his fingers through his hair in frustration. “That too.”
“We need to clone ourselves,” Harper said in jest.
“We work weekends on that damn fence line,” Noah muttered. “Ray Crawford let this ranch fall into a three-year spiral of disrepair before Shay arrived home from the Corps. She stepped into a mess. Her old man was a mean drunk and Charlie from the hay and feed store told me one time that Ray drove off all the wranglers who worked for him. That’s why the fences are in such bad shape.”
Garret looked across the table at Reese. “If Shay could get those pasture fences fixed, posts replaced, she could once more lease pasture to the ranchers around here. Ray Crawford made a tidy little sum every year with those leases. That’s what has kept this ranch on its feet. But he’s an alcoholic, and hasn’t leased any of those five pastures out for three years. That’s why this ranch was in foreclosure when she got here.”
Reese nodded. “I’ve been able to go over most of the accounting books and see the issues.”
“That bastard, Marston Conroy, is the one you want to watch your six with,” Garret warned.
“He’s the banker, right?” Reese asked.
“Yes. The First Wyoming Bank in Jackson Hole. They have the mortgage on this ranch,” Garret said. He flexed his huge fist. “Has Shay told you about him?”