Page 60 of Flippin' Cowboy
With the cameras running, Winnie filled the storage space inside the newel post with a copy of the building’s original architectural drawings and a group photo of theReviving Snowberry Springsconstruction and film production crews, labeled with everyone’s names and roles.
Then, she and Jason lowered the carved globe finial and sealed it to the top of the post, completing the work on the staircase.
“Great job,” she told Jason, shaking his hand. “We look forward to having you back after the holidays, when we tackle the upstairs bedrooms.”
“It’s been a pleasure,” he replied. “I’m glad to help bring this beautiful old house back to life.”
“And, cut!” Karla said. “Jason, your work on these stairs was spectacular. And you’ve got great camera presence. We’d love to bring you on board as a regular if we get a second season.”
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“I’m tearing my hair out over that flooring,” Nick told Winnie an hour later over a hearty lunch of clam chowder and fish & chips catered by The Yummy Cowboy. “You would not believe how hard it is to source wide, quarter-sawn fir boards. And I don’t want to compromise the restoration by using LVP, no matter how good it supposedly looks.”
Winnie nodded. Luxury vinyl plank flooring, commonly referred to as LVP, was usually the perfect choice for high-traffic areas,since it was easy to install and practically indestructible… but it would be totally the wrong material for this lovely old house.
“I’ve been thinking about the best way to handle this,” she said. “Why don’t we call Grandma Abigail? Thanks to her work at the Snowberry Springs Historical Preservation Society, she has some amazing contacts. Maybe she knows someone who can help us.”
“At this point, I’m clutching at straws,” Nick admitted. “Call her. It can’t hurt.”
Winnie pulled out her phone and started her video chat app. Luckily, Grandma Abigail was home and answered right away.
“Winnie, dear! And Nick, too. How lovely to hear from you. How are things coming along?”
After spending a few minutes updating her grandmother on the restoration progress, and showing off the newly reinstalled staircase, Winnie said, “Grandma, we called because we need your help.”
Grandma Abigail visibly perked up. “Of course! What can I do for you?”
“Our flooring vendor just flaked out on us,” Nick said. “We were wondering if you knew anyone who might have reclaimed six-inch wide hardwood boards for sale. Douglas fir would be best, but at this point, we’ll take anything that’s period-appropriate if there’s enough for approximately 1,800 square feet of upstairs flooring.”
Winnie held her breath as Grandma Abigail pursed her lips and said, “Let me think for a moment… I seem to recall…” Frowning, she stared off into space for a few moments.
Then, just as Winnie had given up hope, Grandma Abigail’s expression brightened. “Al Beckman! That’s the name I was trying to remember! He owns the Mt. Chisolm Ranch up in South Glastonbury. At the last Historical Preservation Society meeting, Susan Jeffries mentioned that Mr. Beckman was planning to demolish the original ranch house on his property. Apparently, it’s in a terrible state, but it might have some salvageable wood.”
“That might work,” Nick said. “It would be great if we could get all the wood from the same source. At least it would all match.”
Grandma Abigail smiled. “Let me give Mr. Beckman a call. I think he might be happy if someone offered to do free demolition. I’ll let you know as soon as I’ve had a chance to speak with him.”
When the video call ended, Winnie turned and high-fived Nick. “I think we’re back in business,” she crowed. “I’ve never met anyone who could say no to Grandma Abigail!”
“Except you,” Nick reminded her gently. But he returned her grin. “Al Beckman doesn’t know what’s about to hit him.”
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Grandma Abigail worked fast.
Fifteen minutes later, she called back and told them that Mr. Beckman had agreed to let the Snowberry Springs Revival crew salvage all the wood they wanted for free.
There were only two conditions: first, they had to come to his ranch to get it, which Winnie had already counted on. Second, hewanted them to mention his riverside campground on camera, along with a plug for its proximity to the North Entrance of Yellowstone National Park.
Karla enthusiastically agreed to the deal and threw the afternoon’s filming schedule out the window in favor of a field trip to the Mt. Chisholm Ranch.
Nick and Winnie, tailed by a caravan of production crew vans, drove over to the ranch in Winnie’s pickup.
Al Beckman, a vigorous, silver-haired rancher somewhere in his late sixties or early seventies, was waiting for them at the property’s main gate on his ATV.
He led them a quarter mile up a gravel road to the current ranch house, then drove around back. There, he halted his ATV and pointed out a decrepit, two-story wooden house standing about a hundred yards back.
Winnie studied the peeling white exterior paint, a sagging roofed porch, and a large hole visible in one corner of the roof, where a huge black walnut tree’s massive, leafless branches overhung the eaves.
