“What will you serve?” Gabe asked. On Sunday, they’d visited the ski resort restaurant to check out Bull’s competition. The food was damn good there.

“I’ll leave the fancy chef-created meals to McNally’s, and offer the same menu as my other restaurants—food that goes well with beer. Mid-range priced, hearty fare—burgers, steaks, and comfort foods. Somewhere to enjoy a leisurely meal with a lake view. I should get locals who want to just get out and tourists who don’t want to pony up for a five-star restaurant.”

“Good,” Gabe said. “That’s my kind of place.”

Caz nodded his approval. “You’ll draw guests from the resort—and their staff, probably.”

“That’s the hope.”

“Well, the clinic should be open soon, although—like you—I need more help.” Caz glanced at Gabe. “How about a receptionist? Where are we at?”

“Hired.” Gabe smiled. “When I stopped to visit Lillian, she sent me to Regina Schroeder. Mid-forties, husband works on the Slope, so he’s gone every two weeks.”

“She probably gets bored and lonely.” Caz nodded. “Any experience?”

“Years ago, she was a receptionist in a dental office in Nebraska. Raised a couple kids here. They’re in the Lower 48 and working now.” Gabe paused. “She’s honest, blunter than tactful, practical. Seems unflappable.”

“Not a bad mix. I’ll take a calm person over a tactful one.” Caz tilted his head. “She’ll work Monday through Friday, nine-to-five?”

“That’s it. The police department won’t open until eleven when I come in.”

Bull lifted his eyebrows.

“I’m targeting the hours of the highest number of tourists—and they don’t get up early. I’ll work eleven to eight on weekdays. Baumer will be on three to three on Friday and Saturday, then eleven to eight on Sunday.” Gabe shrugged. “We’ll readjust as needed. If we have too much demand, I’ll look at hiring seasonal help.”

Caz passed over the bag of chips. “What kind of calls are you getting?”

“Shoplifting in the grocery, drunk passed out in the street, fighting on a homestead out in the bush, a domestic call in town”—and damn he hated domestics—“a brown bear near the elementary school, someone tried to break into a post office box, two burglaries. Pretty quiet.”

“Shit.” Bull stared. “That’s quiet?”

“Yeah.” Looking back, he’d enjoyed some of the calls. He liked an occasional adrenaline rush. Liked helping out. Liked keeping people safe.

Dammit, he was getting attached to this damn town.

He sucked back some beer. “Anybody heard from Hawk?”

Both his brothers shook their heads. Caz added, “I called the offices. They won’t give out any information. They won’t even take a message, which is taking operational security too far.”