Saddle Up (16 page)

“All right.” Jo-Jo sighed. “We'll investigate, but don't get your hopes up.”

“Thank you, Jo-Jo.” Miranda smiled. Although Jo-Jo tried not to show it, she was definitely softening to the notion.

Jo-Jo placed a basket of muffins on the table beside the large crock of salted butter. “Eat up, now, cowgirl. We've got us some fence to ride.”

* * *

Tails wagging madly, Jo-Jo's three old herd dogs trailed hot on their heels as they left the house for the main barn. As she slid back the metal door, the mixed smells of alfalfa hay, fresh manure, and oiled leather greeted her, filling Miranda with remembrances of the happy summers she'd spent on the ranch. It was here she'd learned to ride a horse, and even drive. Gramps had taught her how to shift and clutch at the age of twelve, when he'd put her behind the wheel of the old farm truck in the back pasture.

She'd always loved the visits, but she had never considered making a life out here until now. Silver Star was a tiny community with only a post office to even mark its existence, and the nearest town, Twin Bridges, wasn't exactly a metropolis. If she sought entertainment of any kind, Butte was an hour away and Bozeman a good eighty miles. Would she grow bored with it as Jo-Jo feared?

She recalled Keith's words about yearning for a simpler, quieter life. Would that kind of life suit her? She was beginning to believe it would. She'd always been a homebody anyway. During four years in L.A., she'd been out only a handful of times. The only things she'd ever really needed to be content were her camera, an Internet connection, and Netflix.

Jesse and Doc pulled away from the hayrack to greet them with quiet nickers. “Hello, boys,” Miranda said, stroking one head and then the other. “I hate to interrupt their breakfast.”

“They have nothing to fear,” Jo-Jo said. “We'll be taking the ATV.”

“Why not ride the horses?” Miranda asked.

“Because I haven't put a saddle on either of those ol' timers in almost two years.”

“Oh,” Miranda remarked in surprise. Most of her childhood memories were of her grandmother on a horse. Jo-Jo had always loved riding. She never thought Jo-Jo would give it up as long as she was still able to sit a horse. “You don't ride at all anymore?”

“Nope. I quit after Bud passed,” Jo-Jo said sadly. “Haven't been able to bring myself to get on a horse since. I sold all but these two retirees. Bud built these stalls to shelter them from the harsher weather, and I soak their feed every night. We never pampered our ranch horses, but these two old boys have earned a comfortable retirement.” She patted Doc's neck. “I hope someone does the same for me one day.”

Miranda had never imagined her fiery grandmother needing that kind of care, but it seemed the years were finally beginning to catch up with her. “I'll take care of you, Jo-Jo. I promise.”

“Are you really planning to hang around here that long?” Jo-Jo asked.

“Yes,” Miranda replied. “If you'll let me. I really do want to make this my home.”

“Then you better know up front that I refuse to live on Jell-O, applesauce, and instant potatoes in my old age.”

“I promise to make you pureed roast beef and gravy at least twice a week,” Miranda teased.

Jo-Jo grinned back. “Then I'd best teach you how to cook!”

Keith was growing edgier by the mile. After transporting the horses he'd picked up in Nevada, he was finally headed home. As he pulled through the gate leading to Two Rivers Ranch, Keith's mind exploded with memories. Suddenly he was thirteen again, fighting the urge to squirm under his grandfather's penetrating, hawk-like eyes.

They'd picked him up in Cheyenne, his grandmother standing silently in the background while his grandfather silently scrutinized him. “You have the look of your father.” The terse statement, accompanied by a curt nod, was Keith's only sign of acceptance.

“Where is my father?” Keith asked. “Why isn't he here?” His grandparents exchanged a look he couldn't decipher. His grandmother's lips quivered. For a moment, she appeared as if she might cry.

“He could not come,” his grandfather had said without any elaboration. Days later, Keith learned from his cousins that his father had been accused of murder and taken back to prison. The news had shocked him. Was he predestined for the same fate? His family in New York had believed so.

He recalled climbing into the beat-up ranch truck, the silent four-hour drive leading to the ranch. Now, his palms were sweating as he drove slowly up the long gravel drive. He parked his truck, wondering if he should knock or just walk into the house as he always had. He'd never given it a thought until now, but he'd also never been so uncertain of his welcome.

It was afternoon. Chances were good that his grandmother would be in the kitchen. Figuring his best strategy was to go around to the back, he knocked at the kitchen door. Huttsi was his best way back. If he caught her alone, she wouldn't turn him away.

Tonya answered, “Hey, Cuz.”

“Hey, Ton. How are you?”

“Busy as usual, but staying out of trouble.” She flashed a toothy grin. “Mostly, anyway. C'mon in.”

Wiping his boots on the mat, Keith stepped into the kitchen, instantly inhaling the wonderful, memory-inducing smell of fry bread. His grandmother stood in her usual place, with flour up to her elbows. Some things never changed.

“Huttsi, look who's back,” Tonya prompted.

He waited with bated breath for her to acknowledge him.

“Two Wolves? You've returned?”

His grandmother's tone was neutral, but her gaze was reassuringly soft. He slowly exhaled in relief. “Yes,” he replied. “Just got back from Nevada. I was gathering mustangs for the BLM.”

“How did it go?” Tonya asked.

“Well enough.” He gave a dismissive shrug.

Huttsi snorted. “We know all too well how the government ‘manages' these things. Have you seen your grandfather yet?”

“No. I just arrived. But I brought a gift for him. A horse.”

“A horse?” Her smile began in her black eyes and moved slowly to twitch the corners of her mouth. “That was a wise decision.” They both knew that horses were his grandfather's weakness. “If you wish to find him, he's in the sweat lodge. He spends much time there, I think in prayer for you, Two Wolves. You see? All is not lost.”

“Thank you, Huttsi.” He stooped to plant a kiss on the tiny woman's weathered cheek.

She winked. “Come back in an hour if you want some fry bread.”

He grinned. “I'd love some.”

Tonya accompanied him outside. “That didn't go badly. Then again, she's always had a soft spot for you.”

“What of Kenu?” Keith asked, still apprehensive of his reception from his grandfather. Would he welcome Keith back or send him packing?

“He hasn't spoken of you. But that doesn't mean anything when she said he prays for you. That
does
mean something,” Tonya reassured him. “Now what's this about a horse?”

“Come,” Keith said. “I'll show him to you.”

He led her to his parked trailer. She peered inside through the aluminum slats where the horse was pacing and snorting. She gave a low whistle. “He's a looker all right.”

“Is there a vacant corral where I can put him? I'll need six-foot-high panels.” He answered her questioning look. “He's an outlaw.”

Tonya regarded him with open skepticism. “And you're giving him as a
gift
? What's grandfather going to do with a horse like that? He doesn't break them anymore.”

“I thought maybe you—”

Tonya stopped him with a glare. “Don't even go there, Cuz! I'm not about to get on some crazy mustang when we have a couple dozen nice, docile, hand-raised two-and three-year-olds in our own pastures.”

“Maybe he could keep him for breeding. You don't find color like his very often.”

“But people 'round here don't want mustangs. It's hard enough to sell registered horses these days. You know that better than I do. Why not break him yourself and ship him overseas? You were in the money when you were doing that.”

“Isn't that exactly what everyone had such a problem with? That I was exploiting my heritage for money?”

Although they also raised cattle, their primary business was horse leasing. Running a business that depended heavily on the tourist trade, the ranch had always experienced the constant ebb and flow of a fluctuating economy, until Keith's popularity had opened new opportunities abroad. But no one besides Tonya wanted to acknowledge that his prosperity had helped to keep them afloat while others floundered. He still deeply resented the judgment he'd suffered over it.

“What else can you do with him?” she asked. “I'm wondering why you picked him up in the first place. I thought you didn't want anything more to do with horses.”

“It was a moment of weakness,” he said.

“More like madness.”

“Maybe.” Keith sighed. “If Kenu doesn't want him, I'll figure something out. In the meantime, I've got to unload him from this trailer.”

“C'mon,” Tanya said. “There's an empty corral you can just back up to.”

* * *

Keith waited on a stump outside the sweat lodge for almost two hours before his grandfather emerged, wearing only his breechcloth. Steam rose from his body into the frosty air like a mist over a winter lake, but he seemed completely unaware of the cold.

Keith offered him a blanket and a pouch of loose tobacco. His grandfather accepted both with a nod, betraying no emotion. Although clouded by cataracts, his gaze seemed just as sharp and penetrating as when they'd first met.

“I knew you would come,” he said after a time. “I saw it in a vision.”

“I brought you another gift,” Keith said. “A spirit horse from the Paiute lands.”

“A spirit horse?” Keith instantly perceived that he'd breached a wall. Horses were the common love that had brought them together so many years ago. The old man nodded his gray head. “I will see this gift.”

“A beautiful animal,” Kenu remarked as they approached the corral where the horse paced, “but his spirit is much agitated.” The animal greeted them with flattened ears and a broad backside. Kenu eyed the horse again with a slow shake of his head. “I cannot accept your gift, Two Wolves.”

“Why not?” Keith asked, his chest tightening. He'd hoped to put an end to his rootless existence, only to be turned away again, his gift rejected.

“Because this gift is as incomplete as the giver.”

Keith wanted to gnash his teeth in anger and frustration. As he'd feared, his peace offering had been appraised and found lacking. Just as he had been.

“Why did you take me in when I first came here?” he demanded, prepared at last to hear the brutal truth. “Was it only because you lost your son?”

His grandfather met his gaze, but this time there was a difference. Pain flickered in Kenu's black eyes. “I never could have survived losing my son had you not come, Two Wolves. You were a gift I did not seek, but I knew you were never meant to remain.”

“But I want to stay,” Keith insisted. “Why won't you let me?”

“Because your place is not here, Two Wolves.”

Keith gave a deprecating laugh. “It's not out there either.” He'd thought coming home to Wyoming would be the easiest path. He didn't want to forge a new one on his own. Not again.

“Then you have not looked hard enough,” Kenu replied. “The easiest path is not always the answer.”

“I
do
belong here,” Keith insisted. “I know I screwed up. Why won't you let me make amends? Give me a chance to prove myself.”

The old man shook his head sadly. “It is not for you to prove anything to me, Two Wolves. It is for you to find your purpose. A man with no purpose is a man with no soul.”

Did Kenu really believe he lacked a soul?

“I don't know what I'm supposed to do with my life. In all this time the answer has never been revealed to me, so how am I ever to know it?”

Kenu once more regarded the horse. “Did you ever consider that this animal might be the answer? Perhaps it is
he
that is meant to show you.”

In that moment Keith understood. The truth was indeed brutal, piercing like an arrow to the heart, but not in the way he'd expected. He wasn't being sent away for lack of love, but because of it.

* * *

Keith was loaded up and headed for Rock Springs to return Mitch's trailer when his phone rang. “Keith, it's Mitch. I know you just got back a couple of days ago, but I'm in a bit of a tight spot.”

“How's that?”

“I just got a call asking if I can haul a load of horses from Gunnison.”

“The prison?” Keith asked.

“Yup,” Mitch said. “They're shutting down their mustang program due to an alleged mishandling of funds. It's a huge blow to the entire inmate training program.”

“Don't they house several hundred horses at that facility?” Keith asked.

“Over eleven hundred, and the BLM's scrambling to find places for the horses. They've got less than thirty days to remove all of them. We all knew it wouldn't be a pretty sight when the shit finally hit the fan. But we also knew it was inevitable. Rock Springs is almost at capacity, but they're still going to take fifty horses. I've got three trailers available to haul them, but I need another driver. Would you be willing to make the trip?”

“When?” Keith asked.

“We need to get them as soon as possible,” Mitch replied. “I predict that we'll be spending the next couple of months doing nothing but hauling horses 'cross country.”

Mitch voiced Keith's fears, but his first loyalty had to be to Mitch, at least until the current crisis was over. “Yes. I can go. I'll head out first thing in the morning.”

He cursed his luck. For days he'd been looking forward to seeing Miranda, but now it looked like that was no longer in the cards, not if he wanted to keep his job, anyway.

“Great,” Mitch said, sounding relieved.

Keith went to pocket the phone but then dialed it again. Although he couldn't see Miranda as he'd planned, that didn't mean he couldn't at least call her again.

“Hello?” Miranda answered on the third ring.

“Hey. It's Keith.”

“You called back. I was hoping you would.”

“I'm sorry it took me so long.”

“Did you go home?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“How did it go?”

“Not how I'd hoped.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I'm going to be living on the road again, working for Mitch.” His feelings about his return were still confused. He hoped she wouldn't press. He wasn't ready to say more.

“I thought you'd decided not to gather horses anymore,” she said.

“I'm not wrangling. I'm driving,” he explained. “I have to make a trip to Gunnison, Utah. It's kind of an emergency. We have to move over a thousand horses.”

“Wow! That many? Where are they all going?” she asked.

“Pretty much to whoever will take them. The BLM is dispersing them all over the western states.”

“So you're going to be on the road for a while?”

“Yeah. I'm going to be gone for several weeks. Maybe longer.”

“Oh. I'd hoped…”

He grimaced at the note of disappointment in her voice. “Me too.” He raked a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I'm really sorry I won't be able to see you. This isn't what I wanted, but I owe Mitch. He's always treated me well and pays decently. I have no reason to complain—other than the schedule.”

“When do you leave?” she asked.

“I'm headed to Utah right now. I wanted to call you and explain while I still could. I'll probably lose cell service any minute.”

“Keith? Is there any chance I could go with you?”

“To pick up the horses?”

“Yes. I'd really like to. Do you think I could meet up with you in Idaho?”

He considered the request, and then dismissed it as impractical. Although he really wanted to see her, it made no sense to take her to the prison. “I don't think it's such a good idea,” he said. “It's a bigger and tighter-security facility than the one in Nevada. I doubt they'd let you in, even with me.”

“Oh,” she replied softly, sounding as deflated as he felt. “Then I guess we'll just have to wait for a better time.”

“Yes,
Aiwattsi
,” he replied, his disappointment matching hers. “I still want to see you, but I'm afraid we'll have to wait. I'll call you as soon as I get back.”

Her reply was garbled and then, just as he'd feared, the phone went dead.

Damn it all.
He hadn't even said good-bye. He was so damned tired of waiting, of putting his wants and desires on hold for others. A few miles later he realized he couldn't wait any longer.

Still unable to make a call, he pulled off the road to text Mitch.
Going to be late to Gunnison. Had something come up that can't wait. Will be there first thing in the a.m.
He hit Send, pocketed the phone, and then reprogrammed the GPS.