I knew what I was getting into before I signed the papers. The ranch has been empty for almost two decades, and I've seen it enough over that time period that I thought I knew what to expect. When I'd mentioned an inspection to Jericho during the purchasing process, she laughed and told me all the other prospects wanted this property so much they'd offered to waive the inspection. What she was really saying wasdon't fuck this up by asking for more than the others. Message received.
I haven't been by the Circle B in a while, not since before Tenley Roberts showed up in Sierra Grande to film her movie and they used the ranch for some of the scenes. Tenley Hayden, I guess, but professionally she kept her maiden name.
A long line of Bald Cypress trees runs parallel to the far side of the backyard. The house is a sprawling one-story, with a river rock façade. The siding used to be red, but now it's faded and dull, peeling from all sides like tendrils of baby hair. The stairs leading up to the front porch don't look like something to be trusted, and the porch flooring sags in the center.
Jericho had said the family who deserted this place hired a person to take care of property management, but from the looks of the outside I'd say they paid him for a whole lot of lip service.
Tenting a hand over my eyes, I turn and look out to the valley opposite the house. Gently sloping hills give way to flat land. None of it is green, and I'm not sure why. It doesn't rain much, but there should be a water table somewhere, providing water to the land. It's not a huge concern right now, because this won't be a working cattle ranch, but it's something that has to be dealt with eventually.
A few hundred yards from where I stand sits a large barn and stable. Thank heavens for small miracles. I don't have the money to build that.
The round pen looks salvageable. It's going to take me a while to get the right kind of horses, the kind that are dead broke and wouldn't bat at a fly. Off to the side is what looks to be a very new trailer, forgotten by whoever it is that's in charge of trailers on a movie set. I'll run it by Tenley, but hopefully she'll let me use it as a makeshift office until the main house is livable.
Dakota pulls up in a ranch truck and climbs out. She calls out a greeting, then opens the back door and reaches in, coming away with Colt. She straps him into a carrier she wears on her chest, and walks over.
"Hey there," she gives me a side hug.
We spend a few minutes chatting about the baby, but Dakota eagerly changes the subject back to the Circle B. "First off," she says, pointing at the sign, "what's the new name?"
"Add it to the list of things I need to do." I frown as I think of how long the list is, and its steady growth rate.
"I know it can seem overwhelming," she says, rubbing a hand on my shoulder. "I felt the same way when my dad put me in charge of building The Orchard." She looks at the main house. "And that didn't even include demo."
"Am I going to need to demo?"
"My guess is that you'll have a decent amount of work to do. You said someone has been looking after the place, right?"
"That's what Jericho told me. She said the house needed some TLC, but it wasn't in the state you'd think it'd be in after sitting empty for so long. Apparently they had a caretaker come once a month and check in. Make sure the pipes didn't burst and flood the place, that kind of thing." I bite my lip as I recall the name on the papers I signed. "It was odd, honestly. The seller wasn't a person, but a company."
"Ohh, sounds like you have a mystery to solve."
"No thanks. I don't plan on looking a gift horse in the mouth."
Dakota threads her hair through an elastic hair tie and asks, "You ready to figure out what you're in for?"
I grab a pad of paper from my purse and a pen. "Lead the way," I tell her.
We go all around the property, Dakota shielding Colt's tender skin from the sun. Dakota points out various things, some obvious (broken windows) and some I would've not thought of until the problem smacked me in the face (electrical work).
By the time we take a break, I have a list of repairs, demos, and the names of who to call that's longer than my arm. Dakota instructs me to open up her back seat, and I find a full lunch from The Orchard, including my favorite sandwich, a pesto, artichoke and Havarti grilled cheese that was her mother's recipe.
"There's an extra cookie for you, too." Dakota comes up behind me. She's nursing Colt as she walks, the house framing her as she approaches, and I'm hit with a sense of disbelief. I can't believe this is really happening. All of this seems so out of this world.
We settle on the bottom front step of the main house, on the section that isn't rotted.
Colt makes noises as he eats, gulping and swallowing audibly. Dakota peeks down at him. "He's a noisy eater."
"Doesn't bother me." I take a bite of my lunch. "Do you remember that first night you came to Sierra Grande?"
She laughs. "The restaurant at the hotel. Your hair almost skimmed your lower back." She reaches over, playing with my hair. "I like it this way too, though. You're a natural beauty."
A year ago I cut off seven inches, so that now it falls to the middle of my chest. I kept the pink tips, though. I'm a play by the rules kind of girl, but the color makes me feel a bit like a person who doesn't have to be so seriousallthe time.
"Thanks."
"Do you want to know what I remember more than those first few times we met at the hotel?"
I nod, sucking a drip of pesto off my thumb.
