Page 74 of Crossing Every Line


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That was his claim to fame in the company. His father found the jobs, and Shane got them done. Under budget, above code, and within schedule. “I don’t make friends on the job. Being friendly makes them think they can pal around with me. And all I want from them is good, clean work and fast work.”

“Good. Jefferson, the foreman who left, he wanted to be everyone’s friend, and look at the mess I’ve got to deal with.”

The bite of rough-cut wood under Shane’s palm made him itch to work. He hadn’t had wood or a tool in his hand for weeks. “If you can approve overtime and maybe a bonus for the men to spring them into action, I’ll have you done in under a week.”

Doyle tipped back his hat. “And you think that will get them moving?”

“If you’re not lying about a hardworking crew, we’ll be golden. I’d say five days.”

“Five?”

Shane nodded. “Ten-hour shifts, forty-five-minute lunch, and a handful of ten-minute breaks, and I’ll get this done. If I see slackers, I need to know that I’ve got the final say about whether they stay or go.”

Doyle’s mustache twitched up a fraction of an inch. “I can’t wait to see you in action, son.”

Shane did a slow turn at the center of the stable. The main area had a twenty-foot ceiling and the frame outs for a loft and a grooming area. “This is a really big room for just housing horses. What exactly do you do?”

“We’re a stud farm as well as a thoroughbred training center.”

“Racing?”

“No, just really good horseflesh for ranches, show horses, and professional riders.”

Shane nodded. The larger-than-normal space made sense. Especially if they did breeding on-site.

“Let me show you the rest.”

Shane followed Doyle through to the main room. Stalls were set up, and a stack of doors lay against the back wall. A small office was off the front, and a crude desk on sawhorses held blueprints as well as a computer. Filing cabinets lined the naked drywall.

“This is the foreman’s office?”

Doyle nodded. “All you should need is in the files and on the blueprints. The cabinets have all the breeding files for the horses, so leave those alone.”

Shane looked down at the blueprints, then peeled back the first two pages. He’d study them and figure out what needed to be completed. “Who’s been the acting foreman?”

“Dell Murphy.”

“Am I going to have trouble?”

“Doubtful. He’s a damn good supervisor, but he likes the working more than the behind the scenes.”

Shane understood that part all too well. But for a week’s worth of headache, he’d get Kendall and himself to New York and finally get to start over. “We haven’t exactly talked money.”

“No. I wanted you to see the state of affairs before we did.”

Shane straightened his shoulders and faced Doyle. “If your boys are as good as you seem to think they are and everyone’s willing to work, then I think I’ll be pulling your ass out of the fire.”

Doyle took off his hat, pushed back his hair, and set his hat back on with a low tilt to the brim. “You’re a smart man, and I’ve got eighteen mares coming in for insemination in ten days’ time. Lucky for me I’ve got enough money to match my demands.”

Shane inclined his head. “That’s good to hear.” Doyle named a figure, and Shane had to physically stuff down his surprise. For five days of work—seven on the outside. “You’ve got yourself a foreman.”

“Excellent.” Doyle stretched out his hand.

Shane shook it. He heard murmurings in the barn. “No time like the present to get acquainted.”

“Let’s go get this done, then.”

Shane followed him out. On the way through, he counted fourteen lounging man-boys who were barely out of high school as well as a handful of people honestly working. A few lifers were doing enough to get by, and a man in his early forties was surrounded by a circle of men who were obviously getting direction for the rest of the afternoon.

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