When Dreams Collide (13 page)

“Let’s go look for the owner.” Graham consulted his sheet. “Brock Thompson is the man’s name.”

“Howdy, folks.” A spry gray-haired man strode toward them.

Dusty figured the guy for seventy at least, but you’d never guess it by his stride. He silently wagered he’d be hard pressed to keep up to him. “Dusty MacFarland.” He stuck out his hand.

The introductions were made and hands were shaken in turn.

“Now, I realize it’s not customary for the owner to hang around while the potential buyers are looking the place over,” explained Brock. “But my wife passed a few months ago...”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” interjected Susan. “You must miss her so much.”

“Yes, I do. It gets pretty lonely here, especially at night. Hate watching Jeopardy by myself. Nobody to brag to when I know an answer anymore.” Brock smiled, weakly. “As I was saying, my wife’s gone and we were childless, so I’ve no heirs to hand the place down to.”

Dusty and Susan exchanged knowing looks.

“No chance of another fiasco like the father and son debacle in Bozeman,” whispered Susan.

“Thank goodness for that,” added Dusty.

“Anyway, I told the realtor that I’d list the place, but I wanted to meet all potential buyers. I’ve worked hard all my life and this land isn’t just a piece of property. It’s my entire life’s work. Bought this place a few months before I got engaged to the woman I spent the past fifty years with. We intended to raise sons and daughters here. But Sue and me, well, we never had any kids.”

“Your wife’s name was Sue? Was that an abbreviation for Susan by any chance?”

“Yes, young lady, but everyone just called her Sue.”

“I’ve always gone by Susan.”

“Well, maybe your husband should buy the place. Perhaps it’s meant to be...”

“I’m not his wife, just his financial advisor.” Susan perpetuated the spiel they’d given the realtor in Bozeman. And then she noticed the murderous expression on Dusty’s face, felt herself blush. She supposed she had moved up a notch or two from financial advisor considering their changed living arrangements.

“Well, Graham,” said Brock, meeting the realtor’s eyes. “Let’s give these folks the nickel tour.”

“More like the three million dollar tour,” muttered Dusty.

“You consider the price a little steep?” asked Brock.

“No, I’m just not certain I’m prepared to dump that much capital into the land. Don’t want to leave myself short of operating capital.” Dusty shook his head.

“Operating capital for what?” inquired Brock.

While the foursome toured the entire ranch, which included two barns, storage and feed sheds, corrals, well house, ranch house, even the garden shed and double car garage, Dusty explained his plans for whatever property he eventually bought.

“That sounds like an extremely ambitious enterprise, son, but I can’t think of anything more rewarding or worthwhile than helping out a bunch of children.” Brock’s arm circled Dusty’s shoulders in a fatherly fashion. “Let’s head back to the house again. I brew a damn fine cup of coffee if I do say so myself. We’ll toss some numbers around and talk business.”

Dusty grinned. “Susan is a corporate banker, and I doubt she regards land purchase negotiations involving millions of dollars to be ‘tossing some numbers around’.”

Brock chuckled. “Well, I like you, Dusty. And I like what you’ve got planned for your ranch. I’m hoping you buy my ranch because just from talking with you I know you’re going to do right by the place. Build something to hand down to your sons, God willing He blesses you with a little tyke or two.”

“Should convince some woman to marry me first,” said Dusty.

“Well, you don’t have far to look to find a good woman.” Brock nodded in Susan’s direction. She’d discovered the flower and vegetable gardens in the back yard. “Work on the convincing part.”

“Maybe I’ll just do that.” Dusty grinned.

Fifteen minutes later, the foursome sat around the back deck patio table. Dusty found himself surrounded by assorted papers, and Brock kept adding more as the conversation progressed. By the time an hour lapsed, they’d discussed feed costs, utility costs, taxes, memberships in several equine organizations Brock belonged to over the years, and the name of the fragrant flowers in the planter beside the back door.

“So, Dusty. You’re reluctant to spend three million on a ranch. What figure had you decided would be your top end?” Brock leaned back in his chair, stifling a yawn.

Dusty glanced at his watch. Four fifteen. He realized the old guy probably needed a nap. They’d been touring, visiting, negotiating, and discussing things for several hours. “Two point five. But I’m thinking that this place is really...”

“Done!” Brock slapped the table with his hand.

“What’s done?” Dusty frowned, met Graham’s eyes, and returned his attention to Brock. “That’s it? If I won’t meet your price of three million, you’re done without even discussing a lower offer?”

“Hell, no. The negotiations are done, son. I just sold you the ranch for two point five million like you hoped for.” Brock leaned forward in his chair. “I couldn’t ask for a nicer young fellow to purchase this place, to maintain it meticulously like I have, to love the land the way I have, and to operate a charitable facility in conjunction with a profitable ongoing business.”

“But...but...but...” stammered Dusty.

“If I’d had a son, I hope he would have grown up like you. Responsible, ambitious, kind, considerate. You’re a dang good man, Dusty MacFarland. And I insist you buy this ranch.”

Dusty felt himself grinning like a damn lunatic. He couldn’t believe his good fortune. He could buy the ranch for two point five million and still retain a million dollar operating cushion, with no renovations or repairs required at all.

And then he noticed the frown on Brock’s face. He should have known it was too good to be true. The guy had something on his mind, and by his expression Dusty wasn’t going to like it.

“What are you thinking?” inquired Dusty. “Just spit it out.”

“I’ve lived for over fifty years on this ranch, bought it right after I graduated college years ago. My foster mother believed I’d signed up for law school, but I enrolled in business instead. Certainly helped keep this place afloat during the lean years.”

“Why do you think I showed up with my own financial advisor?” asked Dusty, patting Susan’s hand.

“There you go now. Add ‘wise’ to that list of your accolades. And about that half million dollars I just stuck back in your pocket.” Brock met Dusty’s eyes, expectantly.

“Yeah, what about it?”

“I’d like a little something in return.” Brock leaned in close. “Is there an icicle’s chance in hell you’d allow an old fart like me to work alongside you out here?”

“What?” asked Graham.

Susan blurted, “At your age, you should enjoy your retirement. Surely, there’s something you’d rather be doing than working.”

“Why would you...” asked Dusty.

Brock waved his hand for silence. “At seventy-three I couldn’t hope to keep up with you young folks on a daily basis. But I’d be willing to move into the assistant foreman’s cabin out by the creek. Naturally, your foreman would live in the big cabin up by the woods. Fact is I’d do dang near anything to avoid moving into one of those senior places in the city. If you buy my ranch, I’d appreciate sticking around, watching you make a success of it. And I’d love to help with the horses a bit every day and lend a hand with those kids when you need me.”

“Let me get this straight. In exchange for a roof over your head you provide a bit of free labor when the mood strikes?” asked Dusty.

“Providing my arthritis isn’t acting up.” Brock grinned. “If it’s a rainy day my old bones will be aching for sure. Don’t be looking for old Brock to be mucking out horse stalls that day. Ain’t gonna happen.”

Dusty laughed. “Cold weather in January same thing?”

“Most likely.” Brock nodded. “But a nice day like today I could be mighty handy, given half a chance.”

“If your family doesn’t object I think...”

“Don’t have family.  Both my wife and I were raised as foster children, and our foster parents passed years ago. Sue couldn’t have children, so it’s just me left.” Brock shrugged his shoulders.

“That’s a little sad, isn’t it?” observed Susan. “You’ve built this beautiful place, and there’s no one to leave your legacy to.”

“Yep, you’re right about that.” Brock tilted his head. “But I expect living here with you nice folks would soon feel like family.”

“Well, there would just be me, Brock. Susan isn’t my wife. Of course, I’d hire people to help with the horses so there’d be a bunkhouse filled with hands soon enough. Also a cook to feed the lot of us.” Dusty smiled, unable to contain his excitement. He actually looked forward to having the old guy around for company, and Brock could definitely serve as a free consultant on any number of matters.

“Sounds like you’ve made a decision.” Brock grinned.

“Just one other thing, Brock.” Dusty leaned back in his chair. “How fond are you of that name East Canyon Ranch?”

“I’ve called it that since I bought the place. Mostly because that’s what the ranch was called when I bought it. Never thought about changing the name. But if you’ve got something in mind, let’s hear it.” Brock sat back in his chair, arms crossed.

“Well, I’ve thought about this long and hard. And I figured the name should be something children would remember and would put a smile on their face. Something to help them remember their experiences out here.” Dusty glanced over at Susan. He hadn’t even shared his idea with her. “I’ll retain the name East Canyon Ranch. Would it be to your liking if we erected another sign that says something like
Home of the Happy Hooves Stables
?”

A broad smile creased Brock’s face. “Get the paperwork started, Graham. This young man just bought the East Canyon Ranch.”

Dusty shook Brock’s hand. “I’m starting the hiring right now. Welcome aboard, Brock, and I hope you like your accommodations over in that assistant foreman’s cabin.”

“Hot dog! I should have put this place up for sale ages ago.” Brock slapped Dusty on the back.

“Well, then I wouldn’t have been buying it. Only started looking a week or so ago.”

“Dusty is right. Things happen for a reason. Putting this ranch up for sale today proves it.” Susan shook Brock’s hand.

Graham shook everyone’s hand and gave the new owner a big hug. “Congratulations, Dusty. Let’s head back to Helena to write up a formal offer and get the ball rolling.”

“You bet. Faster you get the paperwork done, the sooner I get the keys to this place.”

Brock grinned from ear-to-ear. “Congratulations, son. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve just bought yourself a ranch.”

Chapter 10

Three weeks later on August 1, Dusty arrived at East Canyon Ranch, to take possession of his property and fulfill his dream.

He almost fainted when he drove onto the place. A new wooden sign stood near the road in the pasture to the left of the entry to the ranch. A dancing Pinto pony surrounded by several music notes and the words ‘Welcome to Happy Hooves Stables’ was splashed across the colorful sign. The name was almost nonsensical, but kids would love it! Seeing his logo brought to reality almost brought tears to his eyes.

“I’d bet a million bucks Brock’s responsible for that,” he whispered aloud. He couldn’t have asked for a better welcome.

Dusty parked his pickup alongside Graham’s Lexus. The realtor strode toward Dusty when he spotted him climbing out of his truck.

“Today’s the day,” called Graham, smiling broadly. “Couldn’t miss the exchanging of keys ceremony, now could I?”

Graham sounded as thrilled and excited as Dusty felt. Of course, considering the guy’s substantial commission, Dusty figured he’d be smiling, too.

“I brought along a box of beer to celebrate.” Dusty grinned, hauled the case out of a cooler in the truck bed. “No women here to mark the occasion, so I guessed you fellows would prefer a cold one to champagne or whatever a woman would insist on.”

“Crack open one of them cold ones!” Brock beckoned the other two men toward the veranda where he stood. “Here are your keys to the place, son. Let me officially welcome you home.’

“Thank you so much, Brock. I’m about as happy as a pig in a mud puddle right now.” Dusty paused. “Did you ever raise chickens here, Brock?”

“Years ago, Sue bought a hundred chicks every spring. Raised her chickens for the eggs in summer and for Sunday dinner in winter.” Brock popped the cap off a beer, passed the opener to Graham, and took a healthy swig.

“Why do you ask?” inquired Graham, opening a cold one for himself.

“Just thought fresh eggs might be nice.” Dusty grinned. “It’s called diversification.”

Brock hooted with laughter. “A few chickens around the place would be fine. But they’ll make a mess if they’re not fenced up. Every mother in the county will demand your head on a platter if the kids come home with chicken droppings on their shoes.”

“Oh! Never thought of that.” Dusty tipped back his beer, drank deeply. “Now that I think about it, store bought eggs aren’t so bad.”

The men shared a laugh, cracked open another beer each, and told dozens of stories of days gone by before Graham headed back to town.

For the next two hours, Dusty helped Brock move into his cabin, even dragged a couple of the wooden lawn chairs off the veranda and set them down by the cabin’s paved patio area overlooking the creek in back.

“Thank you for ordering that sign. Who showed you my plans for the logo?”

“Susan emailed them to me off your laptop. I nearly gave the guy heart failure when I told him how soon I required it. But when a man comes into several million dollars, he can afford to hurry a fellow up. He finished it yesterday and a couple of my neighbors dropped by to help him dig the post holes, mix the quick drying cement, and set it up. Looks pretty darn good if you ask me.”

“It looks amazing!” Dusty dragged his Stetson off his head, wiped his forehead on his sleeve. “You sure I can’t reimburse you for it?”

“Hell, no. It’s my gift to you for allowing me to share in this new venture of yours.” Brock smiled. “I haven’t had much to look forward to the past few months. I still miss my Sue something awful, but I’m eager to get my old bones out of bed every day again. Can’t put a price tag on that.”