“I hear ya there.”
“Since I don’t have enough shit to do in my life, I got it in my head to buy up my grandparents’ place when I saw it went back on the market. Plus I added some of the other surrounding land . . .” Renner spit a stream of tobacco juice on the ground. “Don’t know why in the hell I’m telling you all this. You probably already know it.”
Bran shrugged. “Some. I’ll admit bein’ a little confused by the other parcels of land you bought up. It ain’t good for nothin’ in cattle country. You know that, right?”
“True. I had my accountant do a cost analysis and give me a breakdown on how long it’d take for me to earn back the initial investment.” Renner offered a rueful smile. “Made me wonder if the twelfth of never was an actual legal time frame.”
Bran smiled. Mostly because it sounded like something his accountant would say.
“Anyway, no matter what advice she warned me off with, I went with my gut and bought it anyway.”
“No offense, but that still don’t tell me what your plans are.”
“No offense, but I ain’t sharin’ that info with anyone yet,” Renner shot back with a quick grin, “including the gloom-anddoom accountant. Or your buddy Hank, who’s nagged me every goddamn time I’ve seen him.”
“Can you blame us for our curiosity? Rumor is you’re putting in some kind of big building.”
A beat passed and Renner sighed. “There’s some truth to that one. I’ll tell you this much, there’s gonna be more than one building.”
Interesting. Bran decided to drop the subject for now. “Can I offer you a beer?”
“I never turn down a beer.”
Bran ducked into the tack room, which held an ancient refrigerator they’d used for storing milk, vaccines, and beer. He took out two bottles of Bud Light and returned to the main part of the barn. He passed a bottle to Renner.
“Thanks.” Renner looked up at the roof joists. “They just don’t build stuff like this anymore, do they?”
“Nope. While I’ll admit I liked the price of the metal barn and the fact that it went up start to finish in two weeks, there ain’t anything like this structure left around these parts. Most’ve fallen into ruins.”
“Why hasn’t this one?”
“Solid foundation. I follow my granddad’s advice and have it thoroughly checked by a qualified carpenter every couple of years.” Bran pointed with his beer bottle to the far back corner. “We were startin’ to get some natural settling, which put extra pressure on the joists, so he shored it up.”
“Whoever he was, he did a damn fine job.”
“His name is Holt Andrews.”
“Is he from around here?”
“Yep. And if you’re looking to build, Holt’s the one you want. Especially if you’re wanting some of the old-school touches like this in your multiple buildings.”
Renner ignored Bran’s multiple buildings remark. “If you’re serious, I’d sure appreciate his number. I’ve got a crew coming next week, but I’d like to get locals involved too.”
Smart plan. Bran was dead certain this guy didn’t miss a trick.
They wandered outside. The temperature gauge read thirtyone degrees, which was damn near balmy for this time of year. Renner seemed interested in all aspects of the operation, including the family history of the ranch, and Bran wasn’t shy to talk about what worked and what didn’t. Renner got a huge chuckle out of the fainting goats, and it brought Harper back into Bran’s mind, front and center. Right. Like he needed goats to remind him of Harper. Everything reminded him of her.
Muddy Gap was a small town. Had Harper been subjected to Renner Jackson’s charms?
Nah. She was either out here working for him, or filing and painting fingernails, or home with her sister.
Still, Bran was damn glad he’d sent his beauty queen home early today. After he’d had his way with her. Twice. Once on the couch because the bed was too far away. And once on the living room floor because the bed was still too far away.
After chatting about calving, Bran extended an offer for Renner to come over and help out during branding. Not only could he use the help, but with most of his other neighbors there lending a hand, maybe Renner would be more forthcoming about his plans for the property.
“Anyone else you specifically remember from our school days?” he asked.
Renner sipped his beer. “Besides you, Hank, and Abe? Well, you and Hank were always hanging out with an Indian kid. He had a biblical name?” He looked at Bran expectantly.
“That’d be Eli Whirling Cloud. You won’t find another person who knows more about horses than Eli.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He squinted across the horizon. “Also a scrawny kid who charmed his way out of detention at least once a week.”
“That was Devin. Bastard still has that smooth-talkin’ way about him.” Bran didn’t share the info that the country crooner used his silver tongue to talk groupies and buckle bunnies into the back of his tour bus and out of their skimpy clothes.
“Another kid had a side business selling candy on the playground to poor suckers who lived out of town.”
“Ike Palmer. These days he’s a cattle broker.”
Renner shook his head. “Figures he’d be in the sales game. I do remember Ike palled around with a big kid. Quiet.”