скачать книгу бесплатно
“Raccoons?”
“Annie can explain.”
“Then you’ll have to come back another day. Your daughter, too.”
“I’d like that.”
“I’m gonna ride a pony,” Nessa chimed in, forgetting all about her pressing need. “You said I could.”
Sam patted her head. “I have to buy some horses first.”
“High Country Outfitters are going out of business,” Fiona said, “and selling off their entire stable of trail horses. With no customers, they can’t afford the price of feed. You could probably pick up a few good head for a decent price.”
“Who do I talk to?”
“Will Dessaro’s their livestock manager. Anyone in town can tell you where to find him.”
“I’ll track him down first thing in the morning.”
Annie almost did a double take. How was it her mother knew about High Country Outfitters going out of business and she’d heard nothing?
Because she’d been busy with work and caring for Nessa and holding her family together.
And she hadn’t wanted to know. With each resident that was forced to move from Sweetheart, each business that shut its doors, she lost a small sliver of hope.
“I’d best get going, see to it those raccoons get fed.” Sam touched the brim of his hat and grinned at all of them. Annie the longest.
Her heart might be damaged, but it could still flutter. Which, to her dismay, it did.
If only Sweetheart were bigger than three square miles and one thousand residents—a number dwindling daily. Then maybe she wouldn’t be constantly running into Sam.
As she watched him stride confidently toward his truck, she wondered if that wasn’t what she secretly wanted. She had, after all, made an excuse to see him tomorrow.
She spun on her heels to find her mother, grandmother and daughter all watching him, too.
Apparently she wasn’t the only one susceptible to his charms.
* * *
THE PICKUP AND STOCK TRAILER looked out of place as it rumbled to a stop beside the old corral. So did the modern furniture that had been delivered hours earlier and set up in the ranch’s three bedrooms, kitchen and parlor.
Sam’s memories of the Gold Nugget were of a buggy sitting in front of the house, knotty pine rockers on the porch, blacksmith equipment hanging in the shed beside the barn and rooms filled with antiques and authentic reproductions used in filming The Forty-Niners. There had also been photographs of the stars and crew displayed on every wall in every room, along with articles on the actors’ lives and trivia about the show.
For some unknown reason, those photos alone had survived when everything else in the house was auctioned off.
In the evenings, after the tourists had left, the ranch would become eerily quiet. He and Annie would sit in the rockers or at the long oak table in the kitchen or lie on the squeaky mattress and box spring in the master bedroom and dream about the future.
If old Mrs. Litey, the longtime curator of the Gold Nugget, had caught them, she’d have skinned them alive.
And now, the ranch was Sam’s, thanks to the former owner deciding it was easier to sell the place than make the necessary repairs and upgrades.
A quick glance around revealed the ranch still needed a lot of work—starting with the corrals. The pine rails were broken and rotted in place and wouldn’t contain the horses he’d purchased that morning for very long. Fortunately, the construction contractor and his crew were arriving on Monday.
Sam walked over to greet the young cowboy emerging from the cab of the truck, a large shepherd mix tumbling out after him. Sam and Will Dessaro had spent a good two hours together, during which Sam inspected each horse in the High Country Outfitters’ string and negotiated the price. The deal was closed when he delivered the cashier’s check he’d obtained at the neighboring town fifteen miles away.
“You made good time.” He shook Will’s hand. The man’s grip was firm, his features strong and appealing. “Thought you might have some trouble loading all these horses by yourself.”
“Not likely.”
“Should we back the trailer up to the gate?” he asked.
“Don’t need to.”
This would be interesting, Sam thought as he watched Will open the rear of the trailer and lower the ramp. Only then did Sam realize all the horses stood loose, except for the first one. He alone was haltered and tied.
“Don’t you think you should—”
Before Sam finished his thought, Will was leading the haltered horse down the ramp. The nine others followed out of the trailer, one by one, nose to tail. The dog trotted along beside them. To Sam’s surprise, all ten horses stood quietly as Will opened the corral gate and then pushed inside, eagerly exploring their new home. Will swung the gate shut and latched it.
“I’m impressed,” Sam said.
“Not a contrary one in the bunch.”
Sam was a believer and convinced he’d made a good investment.
Together, he and Will unloaded bags of feed from the trailer’s front compartment and stacked them under the lean-to. Next, they ran a hose and filled the water barrel.
“Be back in an hour with the rest of them.” Will had promised he could deliver all nineteen horses in two trips, and it looked as though he was a man of his word.
“Any chance you can stick around afterward and maybe tomorrow? Help me with the horses?”
“Sure.”
“I’m not interfering with your job?”
“High Country Outfitters is out of business. You just bought what was left of my job.”
“Sorry about that.”
Will shrugged. “I noticed some of the horses have loose shoes.”
“Is there a farrier in town?”
“I did most of the shoeing for High Country.”
“Any experience with cattle?”
“My grandmother raised me. She ran near a hundred head.”
Will was looking better and better by the minute. He also knew the mountain trails.
“You’re not by chance good at cross-country skiing?”
“Have all my own gear.”
Well, well. “Anything you can’t do?”
“Cook.”
That made two of them. Lyndsey had already complained about breakfast and lunch.
Sam pushed his hat back and grinned. “You by chance in the market for a new job?”
“You offering me one?”
“I need a livestock foreman and someone to supervise the trail rides. Take guests on guided skiing excursions in the winter months. I’m thinking you have the experience.”
“Okay.” Will started toward his truck. His dog, resting in the shade of a bush, sprang instantly to its feet.
“Is that a yes?” Sam called after him.
“You need something in writing?”
He laughed. “We’ll talk details when you get back.”
“Fine by me.”
Sam decided he liked the Gold Nugget Ranch’s first official employee. The female guests were bound to like him, too, though Sam suspected Will would keep to himself.
Pressed for time, Sam went over to the corral and checked on the horses. Several bunched at the railing for a petting. The rest stared at him as if wondering why they hadn’t been given any pellets.
“When your buddies arrive.” He patted an overly eager black-and-white paint that could easily break through the railing if he weren’t so docile. “And when I figure out what exactly I’m going to use for a feed trough.”
By all accounts, there’d been no horses on the ranch since The Forty-Niners ceased production. He’d considered himself lucky to find that old water barrel in the barn.
There must be something else kicking around he could use. If not, he’d ask Will. The man struck Sam as being the resourceful type. And there was always the feed store.
He was halfway to the barn when a rusted-out sedan pulled into the ranch and stopped, the exhaust spewing a cloud of gray smoke when the engine was cut. Seconds later, a woman with an assortment of children spilled out of all four doors.
“Hi, can I help you?”
“Mr. Wyler? My name’s Irma Swichtenberg. These here are my children.”
The tallest, a teenager, tugged nervously on her hair while the shortest, a toddler, snuggled a stuffed toy.
“What can I do for you?” Sam asked.
“Miss Hennessy sent me your way.”
“Annie?”
“No, sir. Fiona. I worked for her. At the inn. Housekeeping. She said you might be looking to hire someone.” The woman swallowed nervously. “I’m a hard worker. Honest and dependable. Carrie watches the little ones for me so I won’t ever miss a day.” She placed a hand on the teenager’s shoulder.
Sam could see Irma Swichtenberg was a proud woman and that asking for a job didn’t come easy. For all he knew, she single-handedly supported her small family. Judging by the shape of their worn clothes, she was at the end of her resources.
“How good a cook are you?”
“Passable.”
“The place needs a lot of cleaning. Been empty awhile. And I’m hardly the neatest person. My daughter’s worse.”
“Not much I can’t handle or won’t.”
He believed her.
“I really need a job, Mr. Wyler. I’ll work cheap.”
Sam had made a promise to himself to help the people of Sweetheart and that included providing employment for as many of the locals as possible. That aside, he’d have hired Irma anyway. He liked and respected her that much.
“No need to work cheap. I’ll pay you a decent wage.”
When he named the rate, Irma’s hands flew to her mouth. “You’re not joshing me, are you?”
“Can you start in the morning? 8:00 a.m.”
“I’ll start now!”
“That’s not necessary.” He chuckled. “We’ll decide on your schedule tomorrow. Might only be part-time until we’re ready for guests.”
“Thank you, Mr. Wyler.” She rushed toward him, grabbed his hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “I’m grateful to you.”
“My daughter and I are the ones who are grateful to you. Otherwise, we might starve or be buried alive in a mountain of dirty clothes.”
She smiled shyly, displaying slightly crooked teeth. “I’ll see you at eight sharp.”
Something told him Irma would be here at seven forty-five. “Looking forward to it.”
Gathering her brood, she hurried them to the car as if afraid Sam might change his mind.
Unlikely, he decided. So far, he was more than pleased with his staff. And he had Fiona Hennessy to thank.
If she and Annie weren’t so determined to rebuild the inn, he’d hire Fiona to manage the Gold Nugget. He needed someone trustworthy, competent and with her vast hospitality experience. Someone whose skills would allow him to be a long-distance owner.
Sam made his way toward the barn in search of Lyndsey. She’d been in there the entire time with Porky and Daffy. A few good meals had made all the difference to the kits. They were active and curious and had already figured out their long, sharp claws were perfect tools for scaling the sides of a cardboard box.
They were also kind of cute, Sam had to admit, with their little button noses, whiskers and black face masks.
Lyndsey had moved them into an old wooden crate until the cage arrived. She couldn’t be a more attentive and devoted caretaker. Sam was proud of her. And worried. He tried not to think about how she’d take losing the kits when the time came.
