Colorado Christmas. C.C. CoburnЧитать онлайн книгу.
astounds me, Will. And the protest, what about that? And your job? The one you pretended you don’t have? What was that about, saying you’re ‘between jobs’? And speaking of your job, you’ve been here nearly two weeks. It’s winter in case you hadn’t noticed. Prime ski-movie shooting season.”
Will disregarded Matt’s sarcasm. “Like I said in court, I quit the movies.” He held up his hands to allay Matt’s questions as to why. “SOB will keep me busy.” When he saw Matt about to argue, he said, “I’m not going to suddenly take off, okay?”
Matt leaned against his vehicle. “Do you have a plan—apart from continuing to vandalize the development company’s property?”
“I do.”
“And?”
Pleased by Matt’s interest, he said, “I’m holding a fundraising barbecue.”
Matt’s raised eyebrows told Will what he thought of that. “And plan B would be?”
“There is no plan B! What’s wrong with plan A?”
Matt indicated the snow-covered street. “It’s winter. No one has barbecues in the middle of winter.”
“All the more reason to have one. People hankering for barbecue will come from all over.”
“And where do you plan to hold this event? Close off Main Street like they do during the summer barbecue festival? You’ll need a permit and we both know how much you hate dealing with bureaucracy.”
“Don’t need one if we hold it at the ranch.”
Matt rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. Running it by Luke will be harder than getting a permit from the town. Good luck with that.” He pushed away from his vehicle. “Do you want a ride somewhere?”
“Thanks, but I need to stretch my legs and get some fresh air. Then I’ll walk over to the Twilight Years and start my community service.”
Matt clapped him on the shoulder. “Good idea. I can’t fault your work ethic, buddy, but I wish you were a bit more conventional.”
Will raised his hands in jest. “Then I’d be like you.”
Matt let the mild insult go as he shook Will’s hand, then climbed into his vehicle and lowered the window. “I just had a thought.”
“You, Matt O’Malley, had a spontaneous moment?”
Matt started his car. “Okay, if you’re going to be insulting, I’ll go.”
Will reached in and switched off the ignition. “Sorry, couldn’t stop myself.” He leaned on the door frame and said, “Shoot.”
“You know that ranch land you bought ten years back?”
“Yup.”
“I think you’ll find it’s appreciated considerably in value.”
Will was lost. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that if you’re serious about saving those buildings, then get the land valued. You might be able to sell it and raise enough to buy the buildings from the development company yourself.”
“You’re joking.”
“Have you ever known me to joke?”
Good point. “But this is crazy. I paid peanuts for it.”
“Times have changed. You might be surprised by what it’s worth.”
“Nice idea. But I’m keeping the land as a wildlife corridor. Where would the elk graze and the bears collect berries to get them through the winter and the lynx hunt if I sold it? I couldn’t have some rancher fencing it off, grazing cows and horses and shooting anything that eats the grass—or the livestock.”
“You know as well as I do it’s too small to be a viable ranch, but in the past couple of years they’ve started developing ranchettes for people who want to be near a town but also want the luxury of extra land. That valley is the prettiest around and people would pay a premium to live there.”
Ranchettes? Will shuddered. “Even if I could raise the money to buy the buildings—provided the development company would consider selling them—I’d have the problem of a bunch of disgruntled elk and bears.” He ignored Matt’s sardonic look and explained, “I couldn’t live with myself if I sold it to someone to carve up into tiny plots. Sorry, Matt, but it doesn’t work for me.”
“Five- to ten-acre lots aren’t tiny. You’re never going to graze that land. You’re allergic to horses, remember?”
At the reminder of his allergy, Will sneezed, then scratched his shoulder. “Speaking of allergies, can I stay with you for a while?” Will suspected Luke had put him in the apartment above the stables on purpose, hoping he’d move on—preferably to another country. The smell of hay and horses had him sneezing for at least an hour every morning, and Luke kept hinting that if Will wasn’t doing any useful work around the ranch, he should leave.
“I’d rather have my teeth pulled without benefit of anesthetic than share living quarters with you ever again,” Matt said.
“There’s no need to get personal. I’ve grown up since the last time we lived together.”
“Not enough to let you move in,” he muttered.
True, he’d pulled a few shots in his past, and Matt had a very long memory. Unfortunately, there was a shortage of rental accommodation in town—especially with the holidays just around the corner. His land had a burned-out farmhouse that wasn’t habitable. Pitching a tent and living in it during winter wasn’t feasible. Come spring, he intended to start work on a cabin, but until then he was pretty much homeless. And car-less. He’d have to do something about that, too. Building the cabin would prove to his family and the town that Will O’Malley had grown up and was going to stick around and become a contributing member of the community. “Selling my land isn’t an option.”
Matt shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He started up the car. “Take care, Will. If you need anything, you know where to find me. In the meantime, keep out of trouble, okay?”
After waving Matt off, Will headed down the street, his mind filled with plans: saving the buildings, getting Matt elected sheriff, designing a log cabin, locating happy homes for old Miss P.’s dogs, finding a job that didn’t involve going anywhere near the mountain—or horses, buying a car, completing his community service without burning down the old folks’ home, talking Luke into holding the fundraiser at the ranch, and most importantly, getting the judge to have dinner with him.
Chapter Three
Two days later, and no closer to a solution regarding either his career future or how he could save the buildings, Will was strolling along Main Street, admiring the Christmas displays, when a car pulled up beside him. Louella’s piggy snout hung out the window, sniffing the chilled air.
Frank Farquar plucked an enormous cigar from his mouth and asked, “Off to help out at the old folks’ home again?”
Frank’s Aztec Red 1959 Cadillac Series 62 complete with tail fins of extraordinary proportions was a legend of a car. From the front of its shiny chrome double grille to the rear rocket-inspired, double bullet-head taillights, the Caddy was Frank’s pride and joy. Frank owned the rock quarry ten miles past the south end of town but, miraculously, not a speck of dust ever marred the Caddy’s paintwork. Will hadn’t yet got around to buying himself a vehicle. A car like Frank’s was one to be proud of—impractical but impressive.
He ducked to look in the front window and got a wet kiss from Louella. “Yup. Going that way, Mr. F.?”
“For you, boy, I’d drive all the way to Denver. Hop in.”
Respecting Louella’s pride of place up front, Will got into the backseat. “Nice outfit, Lou,” he remarked, referring to her snappy tartan vest