Page 29 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“I’d like that,” he said suddenly and rather forcefully. “Because I’m not one for sweet things.”

He scraped his mouth out with a napkin and shoved the Blizzard, with a bit of ice cream melting down the side, away from him.

He was probably used to different. And he deserved homemade ice cream, made in a real churn by someone who knew how. I didn’t. Nobody at the ranch did, as far as I knew.

But had he meant it that he’d go out for drinks with me? Maybe not. Maybe I should let him off easy from what had obviously been an impetuous statement.

I opened my mouth to suggest a visit to the Laughing Fork, which had the best pancakes known to man, when he folded his arms on the metal table and buried his face in them.

In the back of my mind, hopeful tales about love and families still resided, making me want to say something about how his brothers hadn’t meant to be cruel. But it was obvious they had. Dalton felt it deeply, the way they treated him.

After a moment, Dalton raised his head and stood, seeming to shake himself off, rid himself of the leavings of dealing with his family.They’re a piece of work, Lucas had said. And now I could see what he’d meant.

“C’mon,” Dalton said. “If you’ll drive me back to the ranch, I can explain to Lucas why I’m staying a little while longer and why he’ll need to give me access to his files, his ledgers, and hisbank account.” He laughed, his sense of humor returning. “I’ll show him my certificate.”

“You’re staying?” I asked. That was all I could focus on. The rest of it was gibberish to me.

“I guess so,” he said, though I heartily doubted he guessed at anything.

I wanted to ask if he’d like to learn to ride, to not be afraid of horses. To join me for a trip into Fort Collins to pick up the salt blocks that Gunner’s horse, Rogue, especially enjoyed. To walk together along Snow Creek and watch sunshine flicker on the water like diamonds, then look up at the stars with me after the sun went down.

I wanted to ask him if he’d like to hold hands.

It would be too hopeful of me to expect any of that, let alone more. Even so, I relished the promise of his company for a little while longer. Sure, it would be torture knowing he’d be leaving soon, but for now I’d enjoy the sweetness of his presence on the ranch.

We threw our Blizzards away and used the moist towelettes at the counter to wipe our hands clean. Then I drove us, very slowly, back to the ranch on a beautiful day where the wind blew in the branches.

The birds sang. The surface of the river sparkled as we drove over it. And I’d had a prayer answered, when all the other ones had been met with silence. If that wasn’t a miracle, I didn’t know what would be.

At the ranch, I drove up to the staff building to let Dalton out before circling back to park Daybreak near bunkhouse six. Then I hustled to the barn to help with the chores and catch up.

How were the calves? Had someone remembered that one of the spigots in the small barn was leaking and needed to be tightened and taped before it flooded the stalls?

While I wasn’t vain, I worried that my fellows would think I’d gone overboard with the hat. A Stetson? For working? But nobody said anything.

I got a few glances as we mucked stalls and petted the calves and stood with our hands on our hips for a good ten minutes as we discussed, sometimes heatedly, how the newly baled hay should be stacked. How many bales under each tarp? How many pallets did we have on hand? And who had used up all the horse treats?

“I did,” I said. “I gave them to Dalton to hand out.”

“Oh,” Malcolm said, giving me a side-eye that told me he believed me not at all. He’d been there, after all. But he was a good guy, so he didn’t call me on it.

Lunch was a quick sandwich, an apple, and a raisin tart to carry with me as I headed back to work.

I dug a sluice to drain the calves’ pen, which sloped down at one end and tended to get mucky. My left hand, where the lariat had run across it, felt raw against the shovel’s handle, and I wondered how Dalton’s head was doing. How his conversation with Lucas had gone.

Probably Lucas had already been aware of the certificate and had said something supportive and uplifting, in typical Lucas Barrett fashion.

“That trench is wide enough,” a voice said. “You think?”

I blinked and saw I’d cleared far more area than I’d intended to. I looked up to see Jesse, standing at the upper end, on the rim. “Got carried away,” I said.

“It’ll still work,” he said with a shake of his head. “If we flatten out the top portion of the edge, it’ll be shaped to carry any water. Last longer, as well.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Nice hat,” he said.

“Thanks.”