Saddle Up (15 page)

“I know your heart is in the right place, but you know even less about all this than I do. I don't understand why you'd be thinking about it at all. I thought you had your mind set on a career in movies. It's all you've ever talked about.”

“It wasn't how I thought it would be, Jo-Jo,” Miranda said. “I still love cinematography, but Hollywood isn't where I want to be. I don't fit in there. I wasn't happy. It hurts me almost as much as it does you to see the ranch go. Why couldn't we run it together?”

“But there's nothing for you to do here in Silver Star. It's all just ranchers. There are very few young people. You'd be bored to tears within a month.”

“But I've always loved the ranch, Jo-Jo. I've never been bored here before.”

“Because you were never here long enough to get bored. Besides that, we always did our best to keep you entertained. But we're not talking about a summer vacation anymore. We're talking about running a working ranch.”

“Just think about it, will you? I'd honestly like to do this. If you can give me one good, solid reason
not
to do it, I promise never to bring it up again.”

Jo-Jo laughed. “Don't make promises you can't keep, sweetheart. You and I both know that you're like a dog with a bone once you get an idea in your head. I know you aren't flighty, but this is a radical, life-changing decision you're talking about. You need to be damned certain it's the right one. I'm gonna sleep on this, and I'd advise you to do the same. If there's one thing I learned from Bud in all our years together, it was never to make hasty or emotional decisions. They'll always come back to bite you in the ass.”

Wyoming Checkerboard lands

Keith stood by with the Judas horse, gazing out over the sagebrush-peppered landscape of the checkerboard lands. It was a routine he could have performed blindfolded after three months of gathering hundreds of horses in as many states. This was the biggest roundup yet, but it wasn't exactly going according to plan. Over nine hundred mustangs had been served an eviction notice courtesy of Uncle Sam. Not for the first time, Keith experienced a sharp stab of conscience, as if he were a traitor, a betrayer of trust.

Ears perked, one small band warily watched the chopper's approach. A few of them snorted annoyance as the helicopter crested the horizon, then seemingly unconcerned, turned and trotted away. Another bunch appeared more cooperative at first, but suddenly spread out like fingers to gallop away into the brush.

Keith shook his head. Nope. This definitely wasn't their first rodeo. These horses had obviously been gathered before and had grown wise to the wily ways of the wranglers. Unlike the Nevada herds, they were accustomed to, even jaded by, the helicopter. They were also perfectly fat and happy in their present home and had every intention of staying.

Just like the native peoples once had, these animals had roamed the land freely for centuries. Unfortunately, their desire to remain held no weight against the court order demanding their removal. Protecting the ecosystem was the reason behind the capture, but the truth was simple enough if one just followed the money trail. The horses were freeloaders living on the largesse of the government. Others desired use of the same lands and were willing to pay for the privilege.

He watched with a gladdened heart as the helicopter followed a band of bachelor stallions who continued their campaign of passive resistance. The pilot circled, honing in on a single horse that spun to face him with clear defiance. The chopper came closer, hovering maybe thirty feet away. The horse remained unintimidated.

The pilot rose and circled around to the other side. Two other stallions came to join the first in his standoff. Ears pinned, they planted their hooves, stubbornly determined to hold their plot of sage-covered ground. Several minutes later, Trey backed off in pursuit of easier game.

Keith shared in their triumph as the stallions trotted off, heads high and tails in the air.

The checkerboard gather had been a long, drawn-out process. After three weeks, they still hadn't managed to get all of the horses. Given the mustangs' resistance to the helicopters, the rest would have to be caught over time by setting traps at the key watering holes. But Keith had already decided he was finished. This was his last horse roundup.

“We have a job coming up in New Mexico next month,” Mitch said when Keith came by to collect his check.

Keith stuffed it in his pocket and shook his head. “I'm done, Mitch. You already know how I feel about this whole thing. If I can't be part of a solution, I damned sure don't want to feel like I'm part of the problem.”

“I don't completely agree with you on that, but I respect your position,” Mitch said. “You know”—he scratched his chin—“even if you don't want to wrangle anymore, I might still have a job for you.”

“I guess that depends on what you have in mind,” Keith replied.

“I need someone to drive, if you're interested in just hauling the horses. I got a call yesterday about two dozen mustangs from Ft. McDermitt that they pulled from the killer auction. Matter of fact, they asked me about you.”

“Why's that?” Keith asked.

“Seems they've got a freeze-branded stud in the mix that they say is registered to you. I can't quite figure that one out. You know anything about it?”

Blue Eye. Shit.

“Yup. He's an outlaw I bought from the prison. I was going to give him to my grandfather, but he musta somehow got loose.”

“Somehow, huh? And then somehow found his way from Carson City all the way back to Ft. McDermitt?”

Keith had to suppress the tug of a grin. “We both know horses are real smart like that. They seem to have a sixth sense. Anytime I ever got lost as a kid, I always let the horse bring me home.”

Mitch snorted. “You got a London Bridge to sell me too? I'm about as likely to buy it. Look, you're gonna have to go and pick up that horse anyway, so instead of paying your own gas, why not haul the load of 'em back for me and make a few bucks?”

“I s'pose that makes sense. How soon do I need to be there?”

“A few days. I didn't tell them for certain yet.”

“Good. That gives me a little time to take care of some personal business.”

“What are you planning to do with that outlaw?” Mitch asked.

“That's part of the business I've got to figure out.”

Keith left Rock Springs early the next morning, heading west toward Utah. Although the section of highway between Rock Springs and Salt Lake City had always been one of his favorite drives, with his mind racing, Keith saw nothing. Miranda Sutton occupied his mind. Not that he'd ever been able to completely push her out of it. She'd lingered constantly in the periphery of his thoughts. A month had passed, but the time apart had made no difference, had done nothing to fade the memory of her face or suppress the stirrings in his groin when he thought of their last night together. So many times he'd been tempted to ask Mitch for her number, but calling would only have been futile torture. Too much distance separated them.

Until now.

His circumstances were no better than they were before, maybe even worse. Yet, coming to the junction of I-80 and I-15, he had a big decision to make—keep on heading west and forget about her, or follow his heart south to Los Angeles. There were so many reasons, good solid reasons, to stay the course, and only one reason to deviate from it, but that one reason—Miranda—outweighed all the rest.

Pulling into a truck stop, he pulled the borrowed phone from his shirt pocket and began scrolling through the contacts. Sure enough, Mitch had her number. What would he even say to her after all this time? Would she want to see him? If he didn't ask, he'd never know. With his pulse pounding in his ears, Keith took a breath and dialed.

* * *

Miranda had barely opened her eyes when her phone rang. Snatching it off her bedside charger, she squinted at the display, surprised to see Mitch West's name on her caller ID.

“Hello? Mitch?” she answered.

“No. It's Keith.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Keith?”

“Yeah. I'm headed to L.A. I hoped maybe I could see you.”

“L.A.?” she repeated blankly. Her heart dropped into her stomach. “I—I'd really like that, b-but I'm not in L.A. anymore.”

“You aren't? Where are you?”

“Montana. I'm at my grandma's in Silver Star. I got here a few days ago.”

“You're in
Montana
?” he repeated, as if he didn't believe her.

“Yes. At the ranch I told you about. I thought it would be a good place to come. You know, to figure things out.”

“And have you?” he asked. “Figured things out?”

“Not completely,” she replied. “But I'm working on it.”

“How long are you planning to stay?” he asked.

“That's a good question,” she said with a dry laugh. “Probably until I wear out my welcome. What about you? What are you doing now? Are you still gathering mustangs?”

“No. I'm not going to do it anymore. I finished my last roundup yesterday.”

“Oh. And now you're headed to L.A.” Had he changed his mind about Bibi's offer? Her stomach knotted at the thought.

“I
was
headed to L.A.,” he corrected, “but it seems I've just lost my whole reason for going there.”

“I don't understand. Weren't you going to see Bibi?”

“Why would you think that?” he asked.

“I don't know. When you mentioned L.A., I assumed you'd had a change of heart regarding her offer.”

He made a scoffing sound. “You thought wrong…at least about the job offer. As for the change of heart…maybe you got that part right.”

“Wh-what do you mean?”

“My change of heart… I was going there to see you,
Aiwattsi
.”

Her throat felt suddenly thick. She swallowed hard, willing herself not to attach too much meaning to his words. “You were going to drive all the way to L.A. just to see me?”

“Yeah. I was. But not now that you're in Montana.”

“Oh.” She tried to suppress the wave of disappointment.

“It's not that I don't want to see you,” he continued. “I do, but I have to go to Fallon, Nevada, to pick up some horses. As it turns out, one of them is mine.”

“Yours?” she asked. “Did you buy another one?”

“No. It's the same stallion from the prison. I released him right after I bought him, but then they caught him again. If I don't pick him up soon, I'm afraid he'll end up with the kill buyer.”

“You
released
him? Why would you do that?”

“Because he'll never be adoptable and doesn't belong in a holding facility. I set him loose in the place where they caught him.”

At first the news shocked her, but then it made perfect sense why he'd done it. She was glad he had. “So where are you right now?” she asked.

“Outside Park City, Utah.”

“When will you be back?”

“I'll be in Rock Springs, Wyoming, tomorrow with the horses, then I'm planning to go home for a while. I need somewhere to put the horse. I'd originally thought to make a gift of him, so that's what I'm going to do.”

“So you're taking him to your family's place?”

“Yeah. The ranch is on the reservation outside Riverton.”

“I know how important this must be to you,” she said. She hoped it would go well when he finally returned to his family. He seemed so strong and self-reliant, but at the same time lonely and drifting, as if he were lost at sea, and in desperate need of an anchor. Ironically, she was in similar straits.

“You and me both.” He sounded a humorless laugh. A brief silence followed. He broke it just as she was tempted to fill it with another trite remark. “It's good to hear your voice,
Aiwattsi
.”

Was that a note of wistfulness in his tone? Was he as disappointed as she was? “It's good to hear yours too,” she remarked softly. “Thank you for calling me, Keith. I'm really glad you did.”

“Me too,” he said, adding more tersely, “we'll talk again soon.”

When? She wanted to ask but bit back the question. “I'll look forward to it,” she said instead.

“Good-bye,
Aiwattsi
.”

“Bye, Keith.” Miranda disconnected the call, hugging her phone to her chest, feeling as if she'd just ridden a roller coaster. She couldn't believe he'd called, but didn't dare think too much about what that might mean. Since her arrival in Montana, her thoughts had pinged incessantly back and forth between the ranch, the horses, and Keith. His call had both encouraged and confused her. Was he looking to pick things up? She already knew he wasn't the commitment type. His lifestyle said as much. He'd traveled from place to place for years without any lasting relationships. Why would this be any different? Still, she couldn't help hoping—for exactly what, she didn't even know.

* * *

“Coffee?” Jo-Jo asked as Miranda padded into the kitchen.

“Please,” Miranda almost groaned. “What's that other wonderful smell?”

“Blueberry muffins. They're almost ready to come out of the oven. How did you sleep?”

“Pretty well, all things considered.”

A big lie. In truth, she hadn't slept a wink. Her mind was far too unsettled. She hoped her grandmother had come to a decision about the ranch, but was almost afraid to ask.

“All things considered?” Jo-Jo prompted.

“The future, I guess,” Miranda replied on a sigh. “For years I thought I had it all mapped out, but something's changed. I don't understand how it happened, but suddenly I don't want to do what I always thought I wanted to do.”

“So you're still thinking about this horse sanctuary?” Jo-Jo said.

“Yes. I am. What about you? Have you given it any more consideration?”

“Matter of fact, I did a little more than that. I made some phone calls to the regional BLM office, as well as to my neighbors.”

“Why the neighbors?” Miranda asked.

“I told you there was a bunch of ranchers up in arms about the outfit down in Ennis. I don't want that same thing to happen here. Although it's my right to do as I wish with my land, it's important to keep good relations with the neighbors, especially the ones I share common fence with.”

“What did they say?” Miranda asked.

“They voiced the same frets about horses getting loose, but I reminded them how many times their cows have wandered into our pastures. Dirk Knowlton over at the Flying K seemed the most concerned, since he's experimenting with a new cattle breed, but said it wasn't any business of his as long as our fences were secure. That's my other worry at this point. I think we'd have to upgrade some of the fencing, and that's a big expense.”

Encouraged, Miranda asked, “I'll be happy to pay for any repairs. This whole thing was my idea, after all.”

“I don't want you to drain your savings,” Jo-Jo argued.

“How much do you think it would cost?”

“Probably a couple of thousand dollars, but I wouldn't know for certain without inspecting it.”

The oven dinged. Jo-Jo donned a mitt and pulled out a pan of steaming blueberry delights.

“Can we?” Miranda asked. “Inspect it?”

“Sweetheart. It would be a waste of time. I don't have any money to put into fencing.”

“But maybe I do,” Miranda said. “Depending on how much we're talking about. I have a little bit saved up. If that's the main thing that's stopping us from doing this, I'd really like to know what it'll cost.” With a pleading look, Miranda laid a hand on her grandmother's shoulder. “Please, Jo-Jo. Let's at least find out before you decide anything.”