Paradise Valley (Virgin River #7)(15)

When he got up in front of Paul he stopped and said, “Hi. I’m looking for the boss at Haggerty Construction.”

Paul put out his hand. “Paul Haggerty. How you doin’?”

The man accepted the shake. “Dan Brady. Good. You?”

“Excellent. What can I do for you?”

“You advertised for a drywall man and painter. That spot filled yet?”

“I can always use help with that, if you have what I need. Let me get you an application.” Paul turned away to go into the trailer.

“Mr. Haggerty,” Dan said, stopping him.

Paul turned. He was used to being in charge, but he didn’t think he’d ever get used to being called mister by a man his age or older.

“I don’t want to waste your time or mine. I served some felony time. If that’s going to stop you cold, let’s not go through the routine.”

“For what?” Paul asked.

“Farming the wrong produce, you might say.”

“Anything else on your sheet?” Paul asked.

“Yeah. I turned myself in.”

“Any other arrests? Of any kind? Even misdemeanor?”

“That’s it. Isn’t that about enough?”

Paul didn’t respond or react. He’d keep secret the fact that he’d feel better hiring a pot grower than someone who’d had a bunch of DUIs. One thing that could really mess up the works and get people hurt was drinking on the job. “Do you have a parole or probation officer you report to?” Paul asked.

“I do,” he said. “Parole. I was released early, if that matters.”

“How long have you been out?”

“Not long. Six weeks. I checked in with the family and relocated.”

“Why here?” Paul wondered aloud.

“Because Virgin River is known for discouraging marijuana growing.”

“Well, Dan, my business isn’t limited to Virgin River. There’s lots of work around these mountains and I’m willing to take any good bid if I have the crews to cover it. There could be a job in a place that caters to illegal growing, like Clear River. That going to be a problem for you? Or for me?”

Dan grinned. “Old acquaintances of mine aren’t likely to be doing honest work. I think it’ll be all right.” Then he shook his head. “One of ’em might order up a big house, however. I just hope not.”

Paul laughed in spite of himself. He wasn’t going to be doing business in cash. If that ever came up, they’d have to use a bank, and growers didn’t like banks. “Then the next step is your application. I’d like to see what you’ve done in construction, then we’ll talk.”

“Thank you, Mr. Haggerty. Thank you very much.”

Paul got him an application, gave him a pen and clipboard. Dan sat on the steps to the trailer and filled it out. A half hour later he handed it to Paul who scanned it.

“You’ve had a lot of construction experience,” he said, surprised. He looked up. “Marine Corps?”

“Yes, sir. I started working construction at eighteen, Marine Corps at twenty-five.”

“The Corps came kind of late for you. A lot of us went in younger…”

“I thought about it for a long time first. And the military benefits seemed worth the time. Not a lot of benefits in the construction trade.”

“I offer medical benefits for full-time crew,” Paul said.

“That’s no longer a priority,” he said.

“You have an address in Sebastapol.”

“That’s my folks’ place—my permanent address. I haven’t found anything around here yet, but I have the camper shell, so I’m good while I look.”

“You’re a framer, too. I need framers.”

“I could probably do it, but I have an unsteady leg. Since Iraq. I do a lot of other things that don’t go fifteen feet off the ground and that would probably keep your workman’s comp manageable.”

Paul pondered the application for a good two minutes. The guy looked real good on paper. He’d been a felon, but then again, Paul had fought wildfire as a volunteer beside incarcerated felons recruited for that purpose. “What are the chances of getting a letter of recommendation?”

“Slim. But the sheriff’s department might be willing to confirm that I was a cooperative suspect. I guess my parole officer might step up. I could ask, but you know that won’t guarantee I’d be a good employee.”

“How bad you want a job?” Paul asked without looking up.

“Bad.”

“Bad enough to take a urine test every now and then?”

Dan Brady laughed. “Sure. But I can make that easy on you. I can sign a release to give you access to the parole officer’s random urine test, then you don’t have to pay for a lab. I don’t do drugs. Never did.”

“Then why?” Paul asked, mystified.

“Money,” he said with a shrug. “It was for the money.”

“Do you regret it?” Paul asked.

Dan Brady paused a long moment before he said, “I have a list of regrets about a hundred miles long. That would fall in there somewhere. At the time, I needed the money. Times were hard.”

“Are times still hard?” Paul asked.