Page 62 of The Banker and the Blue Collar Man

“Your property is right over the Ogallala Aquifer.”

“The what now?” he asked as he took an exit that circled around and sent us on an overpass over the highway and right into downtown.

“That windmill should work.” He navigated a curving, three-lane street that zigged and zagged around skyscrapers, and I forced myself not to grip the seat. “There’s bound to be a well with water in it.”

“No, it’s dried up.” He pulled into a vast, blacktopped parking lot that stood like a dark square in a checkerboard of buildings and empty lots.

“No,” I said. “It’s not. Scottsbluff, to my recollection, is right over the deepest part of the largest freshwater aquifer in the States.”

“It is?” He turned off the engine and looked at me. “How do you know so much about it?”

“I look for property on and off. Scottsbluff comes up,” I said. “And yes, you should be able to prime that well and get the pump going. Irrigate fields. Grow anything you like. Keep stock. Water your animals during the driest summer. Dig an irrigation ditch to send water to your cottonwoods, if you had any.”

“Huh,” he said. “Well, we’re here.” He pointed through the windshield at an ugly brown building about ten stories tall. It had large, cream-colored blocks painted on it, like someone had wanted to decorate but hadn’t put any energy into it.

We got out into the summer heat of a paved area without any shade. Luckily, we didn’t have far to go to reach the ugly building, which was, of course, blasting AC hard enough to make me feel like I was in a deep freeze. Whether that was better than being in the dry sauna outside, I couldn’t rightly decide.

In the lobby, I saw people in suits and fancy shoes, some with tassels. All polished to a high gloss. People looking a whole lot like Dalton had when he’d first arrived at the ranch.

The two of us, in our blue jeans and worn cowboy boots, looked distinctly out of place. Not that I cared for my own sake. I’d be back at the ranch before nightfall and staying there. But these were Dalton’s people. It was right that he would want to fit in.

“We’re on the sixth floor,” he said.

A metal-paneled elevator took us up, and we were greeted by a receptionist who checked us in. Dalton had to borrow a temporary access card because he’d left his in the bunkhouse, and I was given a paper guest pass to stick to my shirt. The whole thing bordered on ridiculous, in my mind, but what did I know.

“Better get it over with,” Dalton said under his breath, looking at me. His face was white. His hands were fists.

“What are we doing?” He looked like he was getting ready for a battle.

“I’m going to ask Logan, my boss, for more PTO,” Dalton said. “Lucas said it would be better to do it in person. I’d planned to send an email.”

He was prepared for confrontation, that was for sure, so I followed him, ignoring the surprised looks on the faces that popped up from behind cloth-walled cubicles like so many gophers.

He led me to a large office that was made of windows, beyond which I could see an expansive view of the downtown area. Two stiff-looking leather chairs sat right outside the door.

“You can wait here,” he said. “I won’t be long.”

I remained standing as he knocked and went in.

Dalton’s boss was a middle-aged fellow with a puffy face and a suit that he’d outgrown. As soon as Dalton stepped inside the fishbowl of an office and closed the door behind him, the older man was on his feet. His face was already getting red.

He snapped something likeWhat do you want?Dalton’s reply, I could not hear. Then Logan’s voice got louder. He came around the front of his desk and jabbed his finger right in the middle of Dalton’s chest.

I counted heartbeats. One. Two. Three. Watching. When Logan moved even closer to Dalton, threateningly close,, I opened the door and went in.

“That’s enough out of you, I think,” I said as I stepped between the two of them.

In the back of my mind was the idea that if Dalton got more PTO, he’d be spending more time on the ranch. Which would be torture and pleasure at the same time.

But at that moment, I didn’t care if I screwed everything up. Nobody but nobody could treat Dalton that way. Poke him and advance on him, angry and shouting.

“Excuse me?” Logan’s mouth fell open as he looked me up and down. “Who the hell are you? Get out.”

“I don’t think so.” He wasn’t my boss. He had no power over me.

Dalton was looking at me wide-eyed. I couldn’t tell if he was glad I was there or pissed off.

But that was of no matter, because soon we could be on our way, and I’d have more time with Dalton. More time to undress him slowly and smother him with kisses. Stocking up for when he would be far from me.