Wild Trail (Clean Slate Ranch #1)(97)
The reporters ate it up.
“My grandson had a hunch about what this was all about,” Arthur said, “and with the help of local authorities and their internet crime division, we were able to finally find out the who and the why.”
If Mack hadn’t lived it, he wouldn’t have believed such a crazy story had actually happened in their sleepy little area. Almost a year ago, two rich out-of-state college students named Peter Anderson and Chuck Barry were out hiking, trespassing on Garrett land—the back forty, specifically—and they’d found a cave with a potential deposit of lode gold in it. Peter convinced Chuck it was fool’s gold, but secretly chiseled some out and took it with him for testing. When Peter found out it was pure, he went to his daddy, a Nevada developer named Wendell Anderson, and told him about it.
Wendell knew they couldn’t go in and mine the gold on someone else’s property legally, and as there was no direct road to it, trying to do anything illegally would potentially draw Arthur’s attention. So Wendell tried to buy the land. Repeatedly. And when Mack started to develop the ghost town—a tourist attraction located right on the border of the land he wanted—Wendell got desperate and hired a middleman to make trouble.
The entire thing was convoluted and weird, and it had taken nearly two months to unravel the story and press charges, but it was finally over. Mack could proceed with the restoration with peace of mind. Everyone could move forward.
And even though there actually was gold on the property, Arthur hadn’t changed a single word of the Pinkerton story he still spun to tourists.
Arthur explained it all with more drama than the words rolling through Mack’s head, and ended with “My family and employees are eager to put this behind us and go back to our lives here at the ranch. Questions?”
Everyone’s hand shot up, except the guy holding a local news camera. Mack knew exactly what was going to be asked before Arthur pointed to a redheaded lady in front.
“Mr. Garrett, will you have core samples taken from the cave to see if there is enough gold present to be mined?” she asked.
“No, ma’am,” Arthur said. “I didn’t want to sell that land to anyone who’d develop it or destroy it, and I won’t do the same by sending in trucks and equipment just to rip up gold the world doesn’t need. Animals live on that land, and it needs to be preserved, not dug up.”
“But what about the potential payout for you and your family?”
“We can put food on our table and hay in the horse stalls. Can’t say as I need much more than that. Our beautiful land shouldn’t pay the price of our human greed and arrogance.”
Another reporter got a turn. “And the employee who was shot? He’s doing well?”
“Back at work and doing well. Colt Woods is a fine young man, watching his brother’s back.”
Mack’s chest warmed. His and Colt’s friendship would always be affected by the lie he’d told. They were friendly again, laughing and joking, but it wasn’t the same. It probably never would be. But Colt was alive, working and enjoying life—even if he sometimes hid the pain he still dealt with thanks to minor nerve damage from the bullet.
Colt and Avery’s paths crossed occasionally at the site, but Mack had no idea if they were friendly. Or if they’d discussed Avery inadvertently outing Colt’s secret. That was between them.
Arthur selected another question. This time, it was directed at Mack. “Mr. Garrett, what are your plans for this ghost town?”
Mack grinned. At first, he’d thought the press conference thing was silly, when they could have just mass-emailed people. Now he saw the potential for free publicity that Arthur had seen.
“At present,” Mack replied, “we’re doing a full restoration of standing buildings, as well as building new ones out of reclaimed wood. We hope to fully open next spring as a living attraction, something that authentically recreates the time period in which it thrived. Everything from the clothing our actors wear to the food we’ll serve to guests. We want guests to immerse themselves and experience the Old West lifestyle.”
“Do you know what you’ll be naming the attraction?”
“I wanted to try and find out what its name used to be, but my historian hasn’t been able to uncover any documents that tell us what it was. So I’ve decided it’s only fair I name the town after the man who discovered it.”
Wes’s head snapped up, eyes popping wide.
“I’m naming it Bentley,” Mack replied. “The Bentley Ghost Town.”
The gratitude and smoldering heat in Wes’s eyes told Mack he was getting very, very lucky tonight. And Mack couldn’t think of a better way of saying he was all in with Wes, no matter where his career led him, than by naming a town after him.
Mack fielded a few more questions about his plans for the restoration, and then the whole production wound down. They posed for a few pictures, individually and as a trio.
“Forgot to mention,” Arthur added. “If any of y’all don’t have Saturday evening plans, we’ve got a big ole barbecue going on up at the ranch to celebrate a wedding, and you’re free to join us. Plenty for everyone.”
Several people nodded affirmations. Mack should have minded but he didn’t. The more chances he got to tell the press about Bentley Ghost Town, the better.