Page 26 of Then You Happened
If what Ginger says is true, I’d probably hate her too.
Then again, I can also relate to Tate, and I’m not sure if I own it or reject it.
“So, is that why her ranch is in dire need of help?” I ask. “No one likes her enough to work for her?”
“That ranch is a mess because her husband didn’t know his ass from a hole in his head. He was shit at picking studs to breed. Like absolute shit.” He
throws his towel down and wipes the bar top. “He had a good enough head to keep the place above water, sell what needed to be sold, but that was about it. One of the horses he sold died. Another was quite sick. People don’t take kindly to spending hard-earned cash on damaged goods.”
I chew the inside of my lip as I glance at the images that finally pop up on my phone. Ginger’s right. Knox did make this place look majestic. I don’t know shit about photography, but the lighting and angles and what-the-fuck-ever other terms photographers use make Lone Star look like a little piece of lost America. Turbulent skies over idyllic pastures and symbols of time gone by: red-white-and-blue flags, Radio Flyer wagons, cowboy boots, and apple pie.
I pull my focus from my phone and force it back to Ginger.
“People are saying she’s to blame for the horses’ deaths?”
“Nah. But a ranch that produces sick foals doesn’t exactly win any recommendations.”
I take a slow draw on the neck of my bottle and nod. “True.”
“I’m assuming that’s why she brought you here. You any good with breeding and such?”
Another slow nod as I think of home. Of the endless acres filled with livestock and my duties in overseeing it all.
“I can hold my own.”
“She see your references?” he asks.
“You vetting her employees for her now?” I counter. No one needs to know shit about me. Not who I am. Not where I come from. Not shit.
Ginger’s chuckle is more miffed than amused. “Nah. Just curious. You seem like you might be worth your salt.”
His eyes say he feels differently, but I’m not offended in the least. I don’t have to prove myself to anyone in this town.
“Why can’t she keep anyone on staff?” I ask.
He chuckles, his eyes flitting around the room before coming back to meet mine. “Supposedly, he paid ranch hands double what everyone else would.”
Seems there was a lot of paying too much for things on Fletcher’s part.
“He being her husband?”
Ginger nods. “Some say it was so they’d keep quiet about the things going on there. Most did, so no one really knows for sure. After he died, I guess she went into a rage over something and fired them all. She’s tried hiring others, but they don’t stay for long because she won’t pay what he was and other places pay more. Something like that.”
“Is that your official Lone Star warning that I should steer clear?”
“That’s for you to decide, man. If you like a challenge”—he throws his hands up— “then be my guest.”
So many rumors. I’m sure some are warranted while others . . . not so much.
Tatum was all defiance and defeat mixed with uncertainty and obstinance when I’d met her, so I’d put the split at fifty-fifty.
“But if you’re going to stay, I suggest you keep to your six-month stint.”
“Why’s that?” I glance up at the television where a baseball game is underway—the Austin Aces against the Los Angeles Dodgers.
“This isn’t the life she wants. I give her one more season before she cashes out while she can and makes a new life for herself.”
“The six-month time frame was my doing. Not hers. I have other obligations I need to fulfill.” I clear my throat to make a point. “And who says this isn’t the life she wants?”
