Page 1 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

Chapter 1

Jake

The breeze coming down off Snow Creek wrapped around my neck like a soft scarf. I focused on that rather than on Lucas Barrett, the new co-owner of Snow Creek Ranch. And what he was saying to me.

He meant well with all his changes, and every bit of him was in earnest, like a young preacher attempting to turn his flock toward baptism. But I’d already been baptized, a long time since: on the first day I arrived at the ranch, twelve years ago last winter. When Walter Barrett, Lucas’ grandfather (now sadly passed), had taken me in.

I didn’t need the changes Lucas was offering. I didn’t want them. I just wanted things to be the way they were. The way they had been.

But life, my life at least, had a way of tripping me up when I wasn’t paying attention.

“I was planning to check the fence lines today,” I told him when he paused for breath. “Not babysit.”

“I need your help with this, Jake,” Lucas said. “He’s one of my best friends, and he’s doing me a favor by driving some kids to the ranch. They’re arriving a few days early, is all. Everyone else has pitched in. So, can you do this for me?”

The new arrivals were LGBTQ kids, older teenagers from the description, who had signed up at the Center in Denver for Lucas’ ranch program. Their driver, Dalton Gayle, was a guy who’d worked with Lucas when Lucas had been a city man. A financier in a cubicle in a tall office building in the big city. A world so far away from the one I lived in—hadlived in—I couldn’t even picture it.

Unmentioned was the promise Walter had made to me all those years ago: that I had a home at Snow Creek Ranch for as long as I wanted it. A promise that ended my lackluster life and gave me a new one. A better one, complete with something to hope for. To live for.

It wasn’t just the three hot meals a day and a room of my own; it was the acceptance. The sense of permanence. That meant everything to me.

Lucas hadn’t brought all that up as if to sayYou owe us, of course. This wasn’t about guilt. It was about doing what was right, supporting Lucas and his idea of helping LGBTQ kids the way the Center had helped him.

I wanted to support him. But I didn’t like the changes. They felt dangerous to me, a shifting beneath my feet, like the earth itself was moving.

“Give me a couple of days, Jake,” Lucas said. “We’ll figure out the schedule, and then somebody else can take over working with them.”

Looking out at the bluffs and the escarpment of gray flint and dark stone that, I knew from my own experience, provided an expansive view of the valley where Snow Creek Ranch nestled along Snow Creek, I wasn’t intentionally making him wait for my answer. But I needed a minute to temper my feelings, so the response would come out like it ought. Measured and polite. That was and had always been, my first line of defense.

“I’ll take care of it,” I said. And I would, because I’d said I would. I might not be all excited about a working ranch turning into something else, but it was still my home, and I wanted to stay there. “What will they need?”

“Boots and hats, that should do it. Go to the Mercantile.” Lucas reached into his wallet and pulled out a card I knew was for nonprofit purchases only.

I took it from him and thumbed over its surface, smooth and silky.

“They’ll be sharing bunkhouse four, because all the rest are full,” he said. “The key code is one-two-three-four, but they can change it to anything they want. Then take them to get kitted up and bring them to dinner. Maybe take them on a trail ride after. How about that?”

He asked it as if I had any choice, though I could have objected if I had felt strongly enough about it. But right then, the last thing I wanted to do was discuss what was turning my life upside down.

I was going to march through the task because I owed the ranch. The only thing was, digging postholes for fence lines or hitching up a sump pump to drain an irrigation ditch clogged with muck was easy compared to helping to make changes at Snow Creek.

I didn’t like being a part of it, but I was going to do it anyway. It was just that it felt a little bit like the rope I was holding onto, the rope I’d tied that kept everything in place, was slipping through my hands.

This sensation wound around me, tightening snakelike, as I took out my own wallet and slipped the credit card in, then put the wallet back. The order of the actions, their ordinariness, settled me, at least a little.

“And, Jake,” Lucas said, “be nice to my friend. Right?”

I twitched. I hadn’t planned to be anything but nice.

“He’s had a rough time of it since I left the firm for good.”

“Oh?” I asked, just to be polite.

“His family is a piece of work—” He put his hands up like he meant to stop a runaway horse. “When I asked him to bring some kids out, he jumped on it. Asked for a couple days of PTO right away.”

I listened as his words sped up. I had no idea what PTO was.

“I warned him,” Lucas said, his voice dropping a notch, like he was about to tell a dramatic story. “I saidThis wild country will sink its teeth right into you and never let you go.” He smiled at me, a kind smile that reminded me of his grandfather. Genuine. Warm. Engaging. “And he said maybe he wanted that. I know he needs a change.”