“Oh my god.” Henry owned as much land as the Baileys, now that Jenni was gone. He’d married into it.
The Bailey property had gotten split up between us. The main ranch area was in Mama’s name. Other tracts had been signed over to each kid before Daddy had died.The James property would be completely open. “What would we do with it?”
“Other than prevent some rich city pricks from buying it and going allYellowstoneon the town?”
I laughed. “It’d be a tough sell to convince the city to let them build a ski resort and airport there.”
“Tough, but not impossible. Henry used to grow some of the best corn crops in the state. He used to do business with Grandpa.”
“I remember Daddy saying that.” Henry’s wife had passed away before I’d come to live with the Baileys, but I’d heard my parents talk about him over the years. Usually past tense—used to be good to do business with, used to be reliable, used to have it all.
“We could hire someone to manage the place and grow our own grains.”
I lifted my brows. Copper Summit’s motto was Montana Made, Montana Proud. “Wynter would have a heyday with the marketing on that.”
He nodded. “Yep. We’d have more control from field to still.”
“It would be exciting.” Instead of making deals, we could cut out the middleman and support more employees. The grains grown would likely go to the Bourbon Canyon location, but I might have to be involved if there was product routed to the Bozeman facility. “Keep me posted.”
“Do the same.”
“We aren’t talking about work, are we?”
He gave me a knowing look. “Jonah’s been through some shit, but he didn’t show up at your wedding because he had nothing else to do. Don’t let him push you away.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Jonah
The weekend was taking forever to get here. Each day went by in excruciating slowness. Since Summer had left, I’d been in the shop every minute I wasn’t sleeping or eating. I was already caught up.
After considering how I’d neglected my parents over the years, I’d decided to visit them. I parked in my usual spot and picked my way to the door. Mom or Dad had cleared the path to the side door, but there were enough slippery areas that I was grateful I’d brought my cane.
Mom opened the door, her expression full of shock and worry. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she swam in a big fluffy gray sweater. She was nothing but wide eyes and fleece. “Jonah, is everything okay?”
“I just came to check on you.”
She blinked but stepped back. “Yes, we’re good. Your dad ran to town for some—well, probably to have coffeeat the gas station with the guys, but he claimed to need some feed supplies for the chickens.”
I entered the house and shrugged out of my coat. “Why does he bother making excuses anymore about his morning hangouts?” Everyone knew at ten a.m., several local ranchers of a certain age could be found in the booths at the gas station on the west edge of town, drinking cheap black coffee.
Mom’s smile was a nice treat from her constant worry. “He truly thinks he’s going to town to run errands, and that the coffee and hour-long visits are just by chance.”
I went to the half-empty coffee pot on the counter. Mom would work through the entire pot by the afternoon, but she claimed the caffeine didn’t keep her up.
She grabbed a Dunn Beef mug from the cupboard before I could and set it next to me. Then she retrieved her cup. I topped hers off and filled mine.
“Come. Sit.” She shuffled to the small, square living room off the even smaller dining room.
Growing up, I’d known nothing but this house. It was old and cozy and compartmentalized like a lot of old farmhouses. But when I’d built the cabin, I’d wanted a big, open floor plan. A fortuitous design I couldn’t have predicted.
I followed her, carefully stepping around the footrests and coffee tables that made navigating a small space more difficult when mobility was challenged. Mom had never noticed my issues getting around the house. Part of me didn’t want her to change a thing, keep pretending I was fine. Another side of me was irritated as hell.
I slid between a footrest and a high-back padded chair, keeping my cane at the ready to steady myself.
“Oh my gosh, let me get that out of the way.” Mom froze while bent over the stool that doubled as ranching magazine storage. Her distraught gaze went to my face.
Hell. Had she been worried about my reaction the whole time? “Appreciate it,” I said gruffly and carefully sat, keeping my left leg a little straighter than my right and not bothering to hide it. I used to. I hadn’t realized it until now.
