He let out a long sigh. “Your mom didn’t have life insurance. I couldn’t run a farm and ranch. I’ve sold things off over the years to support myself. It’s time for retirement, and I’ve got nothing.”
The chafing around my neck intensified. The empty shop and cleared-out barns weren’t all from fueling his alcoholism. But his alcoholism was why he’d had to start selling off useful items to start with. “You’ve been living off what you sold?”
Shame filled his eyes, and he nodded.
“You can sell to me.”
His jaw went tight. “I don’t go back on my word.”
“Hank, I’m family. You can change your mind for family.”
He peered at me. “Can you?”
What’d he mean? “Grandpa instilled a strong sense of honor in me.”
Dad’s parents had been more interested in going south for the winter than visiting their only grandchild. Mom’s parents had been all about passing on lessons of family and fortune.
“I was afraid of that.” Before I could ask what he meant, he checked his beat-up black watch. “I’ve gotta head into town.”
Dad and my grandfather had never gotten along. There was no point in bickering about a dead man.
I looked down the long stretch we had yet to get to. This fence was another kick of irony. My grandfather would approve of how much nicer it looked. Why was Dad leaving before we were done? What had happened to working until the sunlight was gone?
“Can you come back out tomorrow?” Hope filled his eyes.
The burn of guilt was back. He wanted to spend time with me. “I don’t know. I’m a little behind at my own job after today.” The words tasted sour as I said them.
“Well, I guess I’ll be out here no matter what.” He stooped to pick up the wire spreader.
I sighed. “What time?” I put the posthole digger in the bed of the pickup.
“Eh, midmorning?”
“What happened to ‘when the sun’s up, we’re up’?”
“I can be out here at dawn, but I doubt either of us want that.”
I thought of how the grass would glisten with dew. This time of year, frost would make the strands sparkle. A quiet I hadn’t heard the entire time I’d lived in LasVegas would drape over the countryside, and it’d be peaceful. Just like now. Only the breeze and the birds filled in the silence when we weren’t talking.
I missed that. “Midmorning, then,” I said gruffly.
The smile that graced his face was like a hot pack on my conscience. He liked being with me.
Yet he wouldn’t sell Percival Farms to me.
Autumn
I tapped through spreadsheets, compiling data for the last month and the previous quarter. The bar in Copper Summit only had three customers, and they were having a drink by the windows that made up one wall. Wednesdays were typically quiet nights, which was why I preferred to work them. I could get some extra tasks done.
Summer and I hadn’t talked much beyond idle pleasantries on the drive here. She had gone up to the office Teller had readied for her. She was still the manager of the Bozeman site, but she worked remotely. When she had to travel for work, Jonah and their dog went with her.
A large shadow loomed over me. As big and quiet as it was, it had to be Tenor. I saved the cash flow report. “What’s up?”
“Got a minute?”
“I was just getting ready to send you last quarter’s reports.”
He had a tablet under his arm. He pushed his glassesup. “About those, I was talking to Tate about how to boost bar sales during our slow months?—”
