Page 63 of The Mountain Echoes

And I plan to meet it head-on.

We survive spring.

We get to breathe.

Then we get to build.

CHAPTER 14

maverick

Harold Beattie, the president of McCrae Bank & Trust and a lifetime subscriber toSuspenders Monthly(not a real magazine), adjusts his bifocals and peers across his desk at me like I’ve just asked him to rob the bank.

His office smells like old carpet and printer toner.

McCrae Bank & Trust has been in Wildflower Canyon since before the town had paved roads, back when ranchers came in on horseback to deposit cash in canvas sacks and sign loan agreements with a shot of whiskey.

“I don’t know, Mav. I just don’t see it penciling out.” Harold is not a rule follower, per se. He’s a mercenary, so I know my request has his undies in a bunch.

“I ain’t sayin’ it’s a guarantee, Harold, I’m sayin’ we gotta be a community and give her a chance, yeah?”

He purses his lips and shakes his head, his double chin jiggling. “Between the operating debt, the liens fromthe vet supplier, and the inheritance tax, which, mind you, hits in less than six months, Longhorn’s balance sheet looks more like a eulogy than a business plan.”

I lean back in the leather chair that’s cracked along the arms, steeple my fingers, and give Harold a hard look. The one I reserve for when I know I’m going to get my way, I just need to let my reputation do the heavy lifting.

“Like I said, not askin’ you to write the loan off, just askin’ you to give her a runway.”

Harold lifts his coffee mug, sips, and grimaces. “She doesn’t even have landin’ gear, far as I can see. Rami kept that place afloat by the grace of God and some creative accounting; I’ll pretend I didn’t notice. And now you want me to back off?”

“She’s not her father.”

He raises a bushy white brow. “You’re the one who’s been on my ass for months telling me Longhorn was a risk, that I should start pushing for a sale.”

“She’s determined. She deserves a chance.”

He levels me with a stare that screams, ‘Are you serious?’

His eyes narrow suddenly. “You’re not usually in the business of charity, Mav. You ballin’ her, is this what it’s about?”

Now, if I didn’t need Harold fucking Beattie I’d hammer his face for that comment. But you can’t survive in business in a small town if you go around beating up on influential people like those who own banks.

“Wait a few months.”

He groans. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah.”

“You think she can pull this off?”

I shrug.

Harold’s face breaks into a smile. “You’re giving her enough rope to hang herself with.”

I don’t confirm or deny his statement. “She’s gonna probably go for the Gunnison Auction. And she’ll have hay soon enough, and by fall apples as well.”

Harold exhales and drums his fingers on the desk. “You offering collateral? Or just your good name?”

“Harold, don’t be a blowhard about this. I know how often you cut a rancher slack, do the same for her.”