“Then we’ll set you up, son. Sounds like a place primed for opportunity.”
“We could provide jobs—there are a lot of people looking for opportunity in home construction. And a lot of city money comes up to us from the Bay Area. Virgin River is isolated and grows slowly, but there are dozens of towns around the area just dying for renovation and new construction. I don’t think you’ll regret it—but I’d rather you not shoulder the risk. I can afford it.”
Stan grinned. “You saying we made you rich enough to start your own company?”
Paul returned the grin. “You did, in fact.”
“Then you owe it to us to give us a piece of the action.”
“I agree,” Mitch said.
“I hate to lose you,” North said. “If you take on a new division, we’ll have to put someone in charge of building operations up here. And damn, you’re the best there is.”
“I’ve been pretty absent since last fall. A long time now.”
“True,” Stan agreed. “But it looks like it was a good investment, personally and professionally. Anyone around here have cigars?”
“You have cigars,” North said.
“I do, don’t I?” Stan said, getting up.
“You know,” Paul said. “You guys have to come down to Virgin River. You’re going to fit right in.”
Ten
Walt had begun making it a habit to be away from the house for long periods of time when Paul was there for the weekend. He stretched out his stable chores and frequently took Liberty out for long early-morning or early-evening rides. His reward for this new behavior was a decent night’s sleep.
It appeared these trips to Grants Pass during the week would continue for a while, and the kids would be back on the weekends. He looked forward to seeing them, but they also needed their space. So, after Friday night’s dinner at the house, with Tom out with Brenda, Walt left cleanup to Paul and Vanni and went for a ride.
He was moving along the river trail when an animal darted down the path toward him. It wasn’t much more than a streak of brown fur and Walt reined in Patriot. He could hear horse’s hooves and then the air was split with a loud whistle and that chocolate streak stopped on a dime. And sat. Panting.
Momentarily, a horse galloped up toward him, a pretty woman astride. She wore a cowboy hat, but even that wide brim couldn’t hide her peachy complexion, rosy cheeks, pink lips. “Good girl, Luce. Break.”
The dog got out of her sit position, at ease, and wagged at her mistress.
“Sorry,” the woman said to Walt. “I hope that wasn’t a problem for you, or for your horse.”
“We’re fine. Amazing little friend you have there.”
“Luce. She’s a bird dog, still in training. I’m Muriel. Are we neighbors?”
“Walt Booth,” he said. “I’m a little embarrassed. I’ve been meaning to bake you a cake and bring it over. Welcome you to the neighborhood.”
She laughed. “I’ll bet you were planning to have your wife do that,” she accused.
“Widowed,” he said, and he plucked his hat off his head in gentlemanly fashion. And curiously, he wondered what his hair looked like. That should have been his first clue.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“Years ago now,” he answered, smoothing a hand over his head. “How about you? Married?”
“Several times,” she said with a laugh. “I’m trying to quit.”
“You shouldn’t have much trouble. There aren’t so many prospects in Virgin River. What use do you have for a bird dog?”
“I’ve been known to hunt. I don’t know how much of that I’ll get in this year—I’m working on that house. But Luce needs a little time on her skills and I should get her in the water before too long. Keep her up to speed. I’d like to get a litter out of her in a couple of years, after we check her hips. She’s got such a good line.”
Walt looked at her hands. They weren’t fancy-girl hands. Her manicured nails were short and she wore no rings.
“Do you hunt?” she asked him.
“I haven’t in a while, but I’m planning to get back into it. Soon.” It made her smile at him; she knew a flirt when she saw one. “I guess I thought you’d be breeding peacocks on that ranch. Or something. Not working on a house and training a bird dog.”
She tilted her head. “And you would think that because…？”