Sweet Home Colorado (The O'Malley Men) by C.C. Coburn

work, and in spite of himself, he
couldn’t wait to see Grace again.
    He stopped at Matt’s vehicle and leaned against it, waiting for
his brother.
    Matt took a few minutes to join him and another minute to catch
his breath, then said, “I’m glad...I parked here and not in town. I can’t
manage...another step.”
    “Take a look at how much you’ve achieved today,” Jack said,
indicating the mountain.
    They could spot the ridge they’d reached, high above them.
    “I swear that mountain is way bigger than it was when we were
kids,” Matt said.
    Jack patted his back. “Nope, still exactly two miles above sea
level to the ridge. Another half mile of elevation to the top of Sourdough.
We’ll be hiking to the peak by the end of next week.”
    “That’s a relief. I was afraid you were going to say we’d be
hiking to the peak tomorrow.”
    “Just think of all those doughnuts you’ll be able to eat when
you do that.”
    “After all that exertion, the thought of doughnuts makes me
feel sick.”
    Jack laughed and Matt opened his car door, apparently in no
mood to share his amusement.
    “Want a lift back into town?”
    “Nope. I need to clear my head. See you same time tomorrow. And
park your vehicle another two hundred yards down the hill. You need the extra
exercise.”
    Matt grunted. “See you tomorrow,” he said, and drove off in the
direction of his office.
    Jack stuck his hands in his pockets and strolled into town.
Since the hike hadn’t taken as long as he’d expected, he’d get to the job site
before anyone else arrived. He pushed the door open into Rusty’s and ordered
coffee and granola.
    “Nice group of kids you’ve got working for you, Jack,” Rusty
said as he plunked the coffeepot on the counter, leaving Jack to refill his cup
as often as he wanted.
    Jack poured the coffee, added milk and took a mouthful. His
eyes closed in bliss. Nothing beat Rusty’s coffee.
    “Thanks. They’re keen to learn and they work hard. Haven’t had
a lick of trouble with any of them. Did they enjoy their meal last night?”
    “Very much. Here’s the bill,” Rusty said. Jack didn’t bother to
check it, just pulled out his wallet, peeled off some twenties and said, “Hope
this covers it.”
    Rusty took the money, glanced at the bill and said, “Sure
does.” He dropped some of the cash into the tip jar. “How come you never check
the bill? Those kids could be ordering caviar for all you know.”
    “You don’t serve caviar in this dive. I trust the kids to be
sensible, and since you won’t serve them alcohol, we don’t have a problem. Most
of these kids have been treated pretty badly by adults all their lives. I figure
extending them some trust and hoping they don’t abuse it can’t hurt.”
    Rusty nodded. “One of them, Tyrone, was asking if I had any
evening work for him.”
    “He’s a good kid. Not sure he’s had any waiter experience,
though.”
    “He’s happy to start as a dishwasher. And he sounds more
interested in short-order cooking than in waiting tables.”
    Jack finished his bowl of granola but was still hungry. The
early-morning hike had left him with an appetite. He picked up the breakfast
menu.
    “Tyrone won’t have any references, but you can use me, if you
want. The kid is a hard worker and, in my opinion, honest. Just don’t work him
too hard so he’s useless to me the next day.”
    “I’ll give him two nights a week, Friday and Saturday, if
that’s okay with you? He has all of Sunday to recover,” Rusty said, and grinned.
“What else can I get you?”
    “Ham and poached eggs on an English muffin, thanks.”
    Rusty took the order through to the kitchen and returned to
where Jack sat. “So who was the pretty lady sittin’ with you yesterday?”
    “I thought you were cooking yesterday,” Jack hedged.
    “Was. Just ’cause I’m in the kitchen doesn’t mean I can’t keep
an eye on the place. So, who is she?”
    “She’s contracted me to restore Missy Saunders’s