Or maybe—he could ask Austin what kind of frame he should get and together, with their shoulders pressed each to the other and their heads close, they could muse over whatever Amazon had to offer and that way the frame would mean more, and when he hung it up on the wall, it would always remind him of Austin, no matter what happened.
17
Austin
In most of his adult life, business meetings were either tedious or they were boring. Sometimes, no, usually, they were both. But his meeting with Bill Wainwright, owner of Farthingdale Ranch, turned out to be neither of those, partly because Bill simply wasn’t interested in by-the-book accounting practices. So the meeting was interesting as Austin did his best to keep Bill on track, to instill in Bill a desire to keep good accounting records, which Bill wasn’t terribly interested in.
Austin’s biggest distraction was because he ached all over from his recent riding lesson, the inside of his thighs feeling as though they’d been run through some kind of meat press. The instructions Brody had given, along with Clay’s steady presence in the ring, made the lesson an easy one to follow. At least until the point that one of the riders had started messing around and Austin had ended up with one leg pressed against the wooden fence as another horse, frisky without its bridle, had pressed against his horse, Gwen.
Inside of a heartbeat, Clay had moved between the horses, as calm as could be, pushing those huge animals apart, completely without fear, like he did it every day. Sweat had continued to cool along the back of Austin’s neck as he watched Clay go, leading the horse away with only the reins around its neck, as if he wasn’t worried about the horse racing off without the bit in its teeth.
There was a lot about horses and horsemanship that Austin had yet to learn, but he knew a pro when he saw one, and Clay, with the patch of sweat darkening the back of his shirt, was definitely a pro. Austin couldn’t understand what was drawing him more, the sturdy set of Clay’s shoulders, or the way he’d gone about rescuing Austin, serious and focused, not missing a beat.
Austin needed to focus on the meeting between him and Bill, rather than letting his mind follow a line of memory that took him from one encounter with Clay to the next and then to the next. Clay was a distraction, pure and simple, and certainly not what Leland was paying him for. So, back to work.
Leland had warned him that Bill followed his own rules, liked to do handshake deals, and never liked to write things down. He especially didn’t like to get receipts, which had resulted, as far as Austin could tell, in a nearly thirty-thousand dollar deficit in the feed and supplies category on his spreadsheet.
In no way did he think Bill had pocketed the money, nor did he imagine Bill had frittered it away on snakeskin boots or anything like that. Bill’s outfit was, as always, time-worn jeans, thin at the knee, cowboy boots broken in so far the sole of the right boot was flapping off, and a felt cowboy hat that was ragged at the edges.
No, it was quite easy to imagine how this had happened. After a handshake deal and the hay or feed or whatever had been delivered, Bill would pay them but neglect to record the expenditure, which resulted in an ongoing incorrect balance.
Austin had gotten the majority, or so he hoped, of the paper receipts, he had to deal with the ghost receipts. Now had come the time to get Bill not only indoors, but sitting down in a wooden chair in front of the desk that had once been his. Austin had encouraged him to move the chair around behind the desk so he could see the spreadsheet on Austin’s computer, but Bill had shaken his head no.
“Don’t need to see it,” said Bill. “I trust you. Hired you, didn’t I?”
“That is true, Bill,” said Austin. “I just think it’s important that we both understand why it’s have a better record of this kind of spending moving forward.”
“I tell Maddy or Leland when a delivery is expected,” said Bill. “I don’t have time for more than that, and I don’t like using computers and suchlike. I’m not good with ‘em. I’m usually driving around, making sure folks know this ranch is a part of the community and not just a tourist destination. We give back, you know. There’s the ex-con program, which we hope to do more of, and the Frontier Girls are always coming by to earn badges, and I’ve got this young fellow wants to interview everybody and make a little documentary for his tube.”
“You mean his YouTube channel?”
“The very one. Quite popular, so I’m told.”
“How did he—” Austin could see a short film about the ranch might be good promotion, but he didn’t know enough about video to even know what questions to ask.
“Friend of my nephew's is a budding filmmaker and historian. Heckfire, even if it turns out crap, it’ll get the word out.”
“Is there a licensing fee?” asked Austin, figuring it would go in the ad category of deductions.
“Heck if I know,” said Bill. “Besides, what’s a few bucks if it works?”
A few bucks could make the difference between balancing the books and running in the red, but Bill obviously had different views about the importance of tracking any of that, so would it make any difference?
Austin made some notes in a text file, then added a name and date and put it in his To Do folder. Then, suddenly, he had an idea.
“How about this, Bill.” Austin reached down to pull out a slim but sturdy ledger and a pencil, which he’d found earlier that morning in the back of the desk. “Take this and write it down when you order the hay, how much it costs, and when the delivery is expected. Then Maddy or I can transcribe it into the online account. That way, you’ll be doing your bit, and we can track the demand of grain and hay. Are you willing?”
He pushed the ledger across the desk and watched as Bill picked it up. Austin had yet to meet a human being who could resist the pull of a new notebook with crisp blank pages just waiting to be filled. Plus, this was low-tech enough that even Bill could use it.
“I reckon I could give it a try,” said Bill as he stroked the surface of the ledger with calloused fingertips. “Leland asked me to be willing, so I’m willing.”
“Thank you, Bill,” said Austin. He stood up and Bill stood up and they shook hands.
“You could do me a favor,” said Bill.
“Sure, name it.”
“Come to the dance tonight.” Bill nodded as he straightened his ragged-edged hat. “You’ve been doing nothing but work and I promise you, the numbers will be there in the morning.”
