Page 12 of Chasing Home

For some reason I don’t know, Johnny looks at me like a man who sees something in front of him that keeps drawing him in. Something that has and will have him coming back over and over again, even if I give him nothing in return. It’s the same look now as it was in Peakside. It had me running that night, and it has me running today.

Well, not running exactly. But rather, disappearing into the washroom until I know he’s gone again.

4

JOHNNY

I’ve never in my life met a group of men who have appeared as clueless when it comes to construction as the ones in front of me right now.

I knew from the moment I saw the crowd of them hunched over a high pile of untreated wooden planks when I pulled back onto the ranch that something was wrong. And as I stride toward them now, my hunch is confirmed.

The foreman, Rick, lifts his white hard hat from his head and runs his fingers through his hair, his eyes moving from the pile of ugly wood to the timber exterior of the under-construction stable only a few yards from the tall walls of the current one. My gut grows heavy when I get close enough to pick up the hushed words moving between the men.

“It wasn’t supposed to be untreated, Rick. I didn’t order this shit.”

“It doesn’t matter. It’s here, isn’t it? And it’s my head on the line right now.”

“I’ve got no problem returning it. Once we swap it out, we’ll be good to go.”

“Good to go? It’ll take another week, maybe two, to get the new planks. That’s gonna have us pushing back far into the fall.”

I’ve got a cool head. Always have and always will, considering how badly I need one with the family I’ve got. But it’s still mighty frustrating to hear that this crew has fucked up.

Steele Ranch has had a number of problems this summer. One after the other, the dominos keep falling. Wade Steele doesn’t have even close to the amount of patience that I do, and every day that something’s gone wrong, I’ve watched what’s left of it get stomped further and further into the ground.

I take a look around the area for the owner of the ranch and breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t find him nearby, red face and all. It’s just me and the crew of fuck-ups.

Stretching out my shoulders, I take wider strides and then step into the centre of their conversation. It cuts instantly, and that’s not a good look for them either.

“Hey, guys. How’s it goin’ today?” I ask brightly.

Rick makes eye contact with me, albeit reluctantly. If he’d ignored me, it would have looked ten times worse. He’s got at least twenty years on me, but I’ve got four inches on him. His age doesn’t mean much at all in this situation, and I know he knows it just as well. I’ve been telling him what to do on the ranch since the moment they stepped foot on it three weeks ago.

It took six weeks of talks between the Steeles and some hoity-toity architect firm from the city to come up with the perfect stable design plan, but it seems that may have been the easiest of the steps so far. Construction started late, and we all knew going into it that there was a good chance we were going to run it into the fall, maybe even past that. But these setbacks . . . they just keep on coming.

“Been better,” Rick grunts.

I glance at the man he was speaking to and tuck my hands into my pockets. “You got a problem that needs fixing?”

Rick answers for him. “No. We’re sorting our shit out.”

“Like the pile of firewood beside you? Is that the shit you’re planning on sortin’?”

The other man lingering around tries not to be obvious that they’re watching us. I shake my head at them, and a beat later, they disappear, suddenly busy with something else.

Rick’s features harden when I bring my attention back to him and cock my head, waiting for an answer. It’s only a matter of time before I have to call Wade and let him know about this, so I need all the information possible. It won’t save them, but it might help.

“It was an honest mistake, Johnny,” Rick says, waving a hand at the wood.

“Can you return it all?”

This time, the other man speaks before Rick can stop him. “We’ll return it. I’ll take it myself.”

“I appreciate that. Thank you . . .”

“I’m Jimmy. Jim,” he says.

“Thank you, Jim. Do you happen to know the wait on getting a new order of the proper siding?”

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