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Jack smiled at her, but he was thinking, All I want in this world is for everything to work out for you two now. You’ve earned it. Burying a baby, going to war, being left behind. You’ve gone through things some couples married twenty years haven’t gone through—and held it together. God, no one deserves it more. But he said, “Liz, things usually work out the way they’re supposed to. You need to have faith and think positive.”
Three
Since moving part of his family’s construction company to Virgin River, business had been good for Paul Haggerty. He was working on a new construction, a forty-five-hundred-square-foot house for a couple from Arizona. It would be their second home; the people were obviously stinking rich. He’d snagged the job out from under the local contractors by promising to deliver the finished home ahead of schedule. With the reputation of his family’s company in Grants Pass plus a little tour of a couple of his completed properties, it was a quick contract. In addition to getting the job, he’d convinced them to talk to Joe Benson, his best friend and architect from Grants Pass, about a design.
Now he had to deliver.
He had a couple of houses and three renovations in production. But business was only as good as his crews. He’d hired some solid, skilled people, and when someone messed up, didn’t show for work or couldn’t follow orders, he didn’t screw around—they were gone. Which meant the hiring and firing was a continual process.
He kept his office in a construction trailer at the big homesite. That was the project that was taking the most time. The weather was warming up a little, but it was still brisk in the mountains in March. He looked up from the schedule on his clipboard to see a man walking toward him holding a folded newspaper. Another job applicant. Well, good. With any luck he’d be hireable.
The man was good-sized and appeared strong. He wore an odd-looking cowboy hat, jeans, denim jacket and boots, looking so much like everyone else up here in the mountains. He was clean shaven and his clothes appeared to be fresh; Paul took that as a positive sign.
When he got up in front of Paul he stopped and said, “Hi. I’m looking for the boss at Haggerty Construction.”
Paul put out his hand. “Paul Haggerty. How you doin’?”
The man accepted the shake. “Dan Brady. Good. You?”
“Excellent. What can I do for you?”
“You advertised for a drywall man and painter. That spot filled yet?”
“I can always use help with that, if you have what I need. Let me get you an application.” Paul turned away to go into the trailer.
“Mr. Haggerty,” Dan said, stopping him.
Paul turned. He was used to being in charge, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to being called mister by a man his age or older.
“I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I served some felony time. If that’s going to stop you cold, let’s not go through the routine.”
“For what?” Paul asked.
“Farming the wrong produce, you might say.”
“Anything else on your sheet?” Paul asked.
“Yeah. I turned myself in.”
“Any other arrests? Of any kind? Even misdemeanor?”
“That’s it. Isn’t that about enough?”
Paul didn’t respond or react. He’d keep secret the fact that he’d feel better hiring a pot grower than someone who’d had a bunch of DUIs. One thing that could really mess up the works and get people hurt was drinking on the job. “Do you have a parole or probation officer you report to?” Paul asked.
“I do,” he said. “Parole. I was released early, if that matters.”
“How long have you been out?”
“Not long. Six weeks. I checked in with the family and relocated.”
“Why here?” Paul wondered aloud.
“Because Virgin River is known for discouraging marijuana growing.”
“Well, Dan, my business isn’t limited to Virgin River. There’s lots of work around these mountains and I’m willing to take any good bid if I have the crews to cover it. There could be a job in a place that caters to illegal growing, like Clear River. That going to be a problem for you? Or for me?”
Dan grinned. “Old acquaintances of mine aren’t likely to be doing honest work. I think it’ll be all right.” Then he shook his head. “One of ’em might order up a big house, however. I just hope not.”
Paul laughed in spite of himself. He wasn’t going to be doing business in cash. If that ever came up, they’d have to use a bank, and growers didn’t like banks. “Then the next step is your application. I’d like to see what you’ve done in construction, then we’ll talk.”
“Thank you, Mr. Haggerty. Thank you very much.”
Paul got him an application, gave him a pen and clipboard. Dan sat on the steps to the trailer and filled it out. A half hour later he handed it to Paul who scanned it.
“You’ve had a lot of construction experience,” he said, surprised. He looked up. “Marine Corps?”
“Yes, sir. I started working construction at eighteen, Marine Corps at twenty-five.”
“The Corps came kind of late for you. A lot of us went in younger…”
“I thought about it for a long time first. And the military benefits seemed worth the time. Not a lot of benefits in the construction trade.”
“I offer medical benefits for full-time crew,” Paul said.
“That’s no longer a priority,” he said.
“You have an address in Sebastapol.”
“That’s my folks’ place—my permanent address. I haven’t found anything around here yet, but I have the camper shell, so I’m good while I look.”
“You’re a framer, too. I need framers.”
“I could probably do it, but I have an unsteady leg. Since Iraq. I do a lot of other things that don’t go fifteen feet off the ground and that would probably keep your workman’s comp manageable.”
Paul pondered the application for a good two minutes. The guy looked real good on paper. He’d been a felon, but then again, Paul had fought wildfire as a volunteer beside incarcerated felons recruited for that purpose. “What are the chances of getting a letter of recommendation?”
“Slim. But the sheriff’s department might be willing to confirm that I was a cooperative suspect. I guess my parole officer might step up. I could ask, but you know that won’t guarantee I’d be a good employee.”
“How bad you want a job?” Paul asked without looking up.
“Bad.”
“Bad enough to take a urine test every now and then?”
Dan Brady laughed. “Sure. But I can make that easy on you. I can sign a release to give you access to the parole officer’s random urine test, then you don’t have to pay for a lab. I don’t do drugs. Never did.”
“Then why?” Paul asked, mystified.
“Money,” he said with a shrug. “It was for the money.”
“Do you regret it?” Paul asked.
Dan Brady paused a long moment before he said, “I have a list of regrets about a hundred miles long. That would fall in there somewhere. At the time, I needed the money. Times were hard.”
“Are times still hard?” Paul asked.
“Those times are past. Oh, I still need money, but it’s all different now. Prison changed a lot of things, believe me.”
“Says here you do just about everything—drywall, texturing, painting, plumbing, wiring, counters, roofing—”
“Roofing—there’s that high-up thing again. Sorry, you have to know the truth, my unsteady leg can take me by surprise. I’ll do anything, but you should have the truth about that for both our sakes. One, I don’t want a broken back, and two, you don’t want an injured jobber on your insurance.”
“When was the last time you took a fall from that leg?”
“Well,” Dan said, scratching his chin, “a couple of years ago, I fell in my mother’s upstairs bathroom, and that wasn’t even high beams. I didn’t hurt myself much, but one minute I was standing up, the next I was on my ass. Like I said, I could get up there on the roof, if that’s the price of getting the job, but I’ve made it a policy to stay close to the ground if at all possible. In case.”
Paul laughed. “How’d you like the Marines?”
“The truth? I think I was a decent Marine, but I didn’t love it. I got mostly shit assignments. I went to Iraq right off the bat, when things were as bad as they could get. When I was discharged, it was one of the happiest days of my life.”
“I did my four and joined the reserves and went back to Iraq a second time. One of us was smarter. I vote for you. But that felony thing—”
“I understand….”
“What if I give you a shot? Think I’ll regret it?”
“Nope. I’m good in construction. Before I started doing it for a living, I helped my dad build our house. And I’ll pee in a cup for you. I don’t steal or get in fights. But if I were you, I’d keep me close to the ground. I’ll get a lot more done.”
Paul smiled and put out his hand. “Well, what the hell, Dan. You paid your debt. But I am going to check in with the parole officer, just to get another read on you.”
Dan put out a hand. “Knock yourself out there, sir. He thinks I have potential.”
“Then we’re off to an excellent start. If you have any talent, you’re coming on at a good time. This company is young and growing.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. I’ll do my best.”
Dan Brady worked the rest of the week for Haggerty Construction. He was moved around so Paul could see his work. He did some drywall and texturing, hung a couple of big, carved front doors with leaded-glass windows, spackled, fitted countertop, even helped with some wiring. “Do you do everything in construction?” Paul finally asked.
“Just about,” Dan answered with a shrug. “I started when I was fifteen, trained by the toughest boss in construction. The man was a tyrant.” Then he grinned proudly.
“Your dad,” Paul said.
“You work for him, too?” Dan asked facetiously.
“Tell you what, you stay out of trouble, you might work out.” Then Paul slapped him on the back.
Dan worked on Saturday as well; they were pressed for time on the big house. But the crew supervisor told everyone to knock off at two in the afternoon and be back Monday morning bright and early.
Dan had less than forty-eight hours to get a few things done. He had to do some laundry, buy some nonperishable food he could keep in his camper shell, and he should see what he could find out about renting a room, apartment or small house. But first, he was due a beer. He might be able to accomplish more than one chore by stopping in that little bar in Virgin River. The guy who owned the place might know if there was anything to lease in the area. Just on principle, Dan didn’t want to ask his new boss.
He walked into the bar and a couple of seconds later Jack came out from the back.
“Aw, Jesus Christ,” Jack said. “You again.”
Dan took off his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Nice to see you, too.”
“Aw, man—you’re the one. Paul hired you!” Jack stepped up behind the bar, hands on his hips. “He said he hired a big guy who wore a funny-looking cowboy hat. Guess he doesn’t know a Shady Brady when he sees one.”
Dan just shook his head and gave a half smile. “You hold some kind of grudge or something? What’d I ever do to you?”
“Just seems like when you’re around, there’s some kind of trouble.”
“Yeah, and sometimes when I’m around, someone needs a lift. Didn’t I pick you up off a dirt road in the middle of a wildfire? Jesus, some people have no gratitude. Can I get a beer or are you going to glare at me all day?”
“You got clean money this time? I don’t take money that smells like fresh-cut cannabis.”
“Didn’t you get the word? I’m rehabilitated. I work construction, and that’s all.”
Jack lifted one eyebrow. “You went to jail?”
“For a while, yeah. Paul didn’t tell you?” Jack shook his head. “How about that,” Dan said. “He’s a gentleman, too.”
Jack pulled a cold Heineken out of the cooler, remembering the man’s preferred brew, popped the cap and put a chilled glass on the bar. “Listen, he’s a good man. He works hard, he’s honest, he treats people right. He’s a family man and has good friends around here. Real good friends. You better not screw with him.” Jack nodded at the beer. “You need a Beam to go with that?” It was usually a boilermaker—Heineken and Jim Beam.
Dan smiled. “No thanks, this is fine. Look, buddy, all I want to do for your friend is construction. He gave me a job. I need a job.” He put out his hand. “Dan Brady.”
“Brady?” Jack asked with a laugh. “Had to be Brady.”
“Interesting, huh?” He put the hat on the bar. “My signature.”
Jack hesitated a moment before he put his hand out and shook Dan’s. “Jack Sheridan.”
“Yeah, I know. Now, can we move on? No reason we have to go head to head every time we see each other. I’m hoping to live here. At least for a while.”
“Why here?” Jack asked suspiciously.
“I’m not likely to run into any old business associates in here.” He grinned. “The bartender won’t take stinky money.”
“You saying we understand each other?” Jack asked.
“I never had a problem understanding you, pal. Fact is, if this were my bar, I wouldn’t have taken my money either. But that’s all in the past. And I need some information, if you have it.”
“We’ll see,” Jack said.
“First of all, I’m bedding down in a camper shell and it’s fine, but I thought you might know of something to rent around here.”
Jack knew of a number of possibilities. Luke Riordan had six cabins on the river, recently updated. There was a couple in town who let out a room over their garage from time to time. And Jack had his cabin in the woods. But there was a vast difference between giving the man a job and watching him work and inviting him to spend the night. “Sorry,” Jack said. “That’s the thing about these mountain towns. Rentals and property sales come up so seldom, Paul’s company is doing well. People have to build from scratch or remodel.”
