Page 209 of Lost Then Found
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the desk, fingers laced together. “How much money we talkin’?”
I let out a sigh. “Millions.”
For a second, the room is still. Sawyer’s eyes widen as he looks over to Vaughn.
Vaughn runs a hand over his jaw, rough and slow, like he’s thinking through every angle. “And Tate wants it. Wants her to hand over the diner so he can knock it down and get at the oil. Probably would’ve made himself a hell of a chunk sellin’ it to her in the first place.”
He looks at me now, eyes sharp. “Sound about right?”
I nod once, jaw tight.
Vaughn’s eyes narrow slightly, toothpick rolling between his fingers. “Why’d they shut the place down anyway? Bluebell’s been open for decades, ain’t it? Never heard of any issues when Alice was runnin’ the joint.”
“Because there weren’t any. There never has been.”
He waits, silent.
I lean forward just enough to hold his gaze. “Health department ran an inspection. Passed clean. I’ve got the report to prove it. Stamped, signed, the whole deal. But a week later? Another inspector shows up, shuts it down. Cites violations that weren’t there before. Turns out Tate’s got someone in his pocket. Paid to bury the first report and push the second.”
Sawyer lets out a low breath beside me, but it’s Vaughn I’m watching. He nods, slow and measured.
“You’re sure about this?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say. “Like I said, I’ve got pictures of the original paperwork myself.”
Vaughn leans back in his chair, the leather creaking under his weight. His fingers tap once against the desk. “That oil reservoir,” he says, more to himself than anyone else, “might stretch under the lot I’m lookin’ to buy.”
He watches me, gauging, then nods again like he’s made up his mind. “Alright. Here’s what I’m gonna do. I’ll help you—but it’s gonna come with a couple conditions.”
I blink, not sure I heard him right. “You’llhelpme?”
He cracks a grin. Not warm, not cold, just practical. “I’m not in the business of givin’ shit away for free, Wilding. But I ain’t lookin’ to screw Lark over either. I liked Harvey. He was a respectable man. I think we can play this in our favor, make it work. Forallof us.”
I shift slightly, wary but listening. “Alright. What conditions?”
He leans forward, tapping a finger on the desk. “You’ve got the evidence. I’ve got the contacts. Folks on the health board, zoning committee, all in Bozeman. I call in a favor, push the clean report through the right channels—that diner opens back up within the week, no more delays, no more bullshit.”
I raise an eyebrow, cautious. “And in return?”
He gestures toward the window behind him, out toward the town that lies just beyond the hills. “I want access to whatever’s under that land. If that oil field stretches onto my lot, I want first rights to lease the drilling—legally, clean. No shady backroom deals. You keep your diner, Tate loses, I get what’s mine without stepping on Lark’s neck.”
It’s smart. Too…nice. I sit with it for a beat, turning it over.
Vaughn adds, “You keep your hands clean, she keeps the Bluebell. I get my land—and if there’s oil, we all win.”
I run a hand over my jaw, eyes locked on Vaughn’s. “I need to talk to Lark first. The Bluebell’s hers. I’m not making any decisions without her.”
The corner of his mouth tugs up like he expected that. “Fair enough.”
“But,” I add, voice low, “you’ve got to give me your word this doesn’t end up going to shit and fucking us over down the line.”
Vaughn’s eyes narrow. “What’s a cowboy got but his word?” He tips his head toward Sawyer. “Hell, I’ve got a witness.”
Sawyer glances over, unbothered. “I heard it.”
Then Sawyer shifts, pulling his phone from his pocket. “I’ve got some contacts, might be able to dig into Tate’s financials. See if he’s payin’ anyone to keep the diner shut. It’d have to be a hefty amount if he’s pulling strings like that.”
He’s already typing something out, thumbs moving fast.
