Saddle Up (19 page)

It was barely six o'clock when Miranda stepped onto the front porch, she shivered in the chill morning air and then sucked in a cleansing lungful, feeling like she could never get enough of it after her years in the smog-filled San Fernando Valley.

Winter would come soon. The few leaf-bearing trees surrounding the house were nearly barren, and the ground glistened white with frost. Gazing beyond the fenced pastures at the Tobacco Root Mountains, gray and purple shadows capped with white, she was still unable to believe that this was really her new home, her new life.

For weeks, she'd kept herself almost manically busy, preparing the ranch for the horses and making weekly trips to the university film lab to edit. The film had begun to come together in a way she hadn't expected, but Lexi was right that Keith's narration would be the key to its success. Unfortunately, the time had never been right even to ask him. Now she feared she'd never have another chance.

Although he'd been on the road constantly since the trip to Gunnison, her decision about the horses had driven a deep wedge between them. She'd finally accepted his reasons, but still couldn't overcome her profound sense of disappointment. They'd exchanged a few brief phone calls but hadn't seen each other. She realized too late that she'd pushed him too hard. Perhaps if she hadn't, he would have eventually come around. She recalled how the prison inmate had tried to gentle the stallion. He'd slowly closed the distance, hand tentatively outstretched, only to be violently rejected. Keith had explained that a horse with no trust would have to be enticed to make the first move. That was exactly the mistake she'd made with Keith. She wondered wistfully if she'd ever see him again, but knew he had to make the next move.

When she returned to the house after her barn chores, she found Jo-Jo sipping coffee. Miranda shut her eyes to sniff the air and smiled. Cinnamon. Her next favorite after blueberry. She reached under the napkin for a muffin.

“I guess today's a big decision day,” Jo-Jo said, handing Miranda the contract she'd received from the BLM the day before. The approval had taken almost a month. Although it felt like eternity, it was lightning fast by government bureaucracy standards. “The agreement looks pretty straightforward,” Jo-Jo said, “But Bud never signed anything without due diligence.”

“Due diligence?” Miranda asked, perusing the document while slathering a warm, moist peace of heaven with soft, creamery butter.

Jo-Jo snorted. “Just a fancy term for legal fees, but I'd rather pay a lawyer to take a look at this than make a big mistake over something I didn't fully understand.”

“I agree,” Miranda said between eye-rollingly delicious bites. “How soon do you think you can get someone to review it?”

“I already have an appointment I made weeks ago with Wade Knowlton to talk about some estate-planning concerns. I asked him to take a look at this as well. Would you like to drive into Virginia City with me?”

“Sure, Jo-Jo,” Miranda said. “Is the Star Bakery still open? I used to love that place, though their muffins can't compare to yours.”

“We can stop there for lunch.” Jo-Jo looked at her watch. “My appointment's at nine, so you'd best put a wiggle on it.”

Miranda scarfed down the rest of her muffin, and then downed her coffee in three long, scalding swigs. Twenty minutes later she was showered and dressed with purse in hand. Jo-Jo joined her a moment later, contract in one hand and truck keys in the other.

“You want to drive?” Jo-Jo asked.

“We could always take my car,” Miranda suggested.

“Sweetheart, that vehicle may be purdy to look at, but it's going to be mighty impractical around these parts.”

“I know.” Miranda sighed. “I've been thinking the same thing. Once we get everything settled, I'll probably trade it in for something with four-wheel drive.”

“Won't you miss it?” Jo-Jo asked.

“I'll get over it. I'll have more than enough mustangs on my hands soon enough.”

* * *

“Hello, Jo-Jo. It's been a dog's age. What have you been up to?” A plump woman rose from her desk to greet them with a bright smile.

“Nothing special,” Jo-Jo replied. “I think I'd have died of boredom long ago if Miranda hadn't come to save me. Iris, have you met my granddaughter, Miranda?”

Miranda stepped forward, offering her hand. “Nice to meet you, Iris.”

“A pleasure,” Iris said. “Are you visiting for long?”

“Actually, I'm thinking about settling here and helping Jo-Jo run the ranch.”

“You're taking it off the market?” Iris asked Jo-Jo.

“I guess it all depends on the answers Wade gives me to my questions.”

“He just ran over to the courthouse and should be back shortly.” She looked to the door with a laugh. “Well, speak of the devil!”

Miranda's gaze riveted to the man who'd just entered. Was this the lawyer? Her gaze traveled appreciatively over his tall, lean frame. In boots, jeans, and cowboy hat, Jo-Jo's attorney was hardly the stuffed shirt she'd expected. He was also much younger and far better-looking.

He doffed his hat. “Miz Sutton! I'm so sorry to keep you waiting.”

“Hello, Wade. I don't think you've met my granddaughter,” Jo-Jo supplied. “She's going to be a famous filmmaker one day. Mark my words on it.”

He directed an intense blue gaze at Miranda. Her cheeks heated with embarrassment as his big, warm, and surprisingly callused hand swallowed hers. “It's a pleasure to meet you. Can I offer you ladies some coffee before we get started?”

“No, thank you,” Jo-Jo replied. “We're going to have lunch at the Star when we leave.”

He flashed a dimpled grin. “Best place in town. Why don't you step on into my office and tell me what I can do for you.”

Miranda's gaze wandered over the office as the lawyer reviewed the contract. Jo-Jo had told her that the building had been a bordello in the gold rush days, but little evidence remained. The oak plank flooring was polished to a gleam. The furniture was burgundy studded leather, masculine, soft, and comfortable. One wall was lined with the requisite bookcases, teeming with intimidating legal tomes and a few hunting trophies. A framed watercolor Western landscape hung next to it.

“It all looks clean to me,” Wade remarked, handing the contract back to Jo-Jo.

“What do you think of the idea?” she asked.

“It could turn out to be a fairly lucrative arrangement in the end, but ten years is a big commitment. Are you sure you don't want to try to negotiate a shorter term?” he asked.

“I thought about that, but we're taking on only two hundred to start with,” Jo-Jo said. “I insisted on that provision to test the waters before I get in over my head.”

“That was a smart move,” he agreed.

“My real concern is Miranda here,” Jo-Jo continued. “Ten years might not seem like a lifetime to someone her age, or yours, but I'm seventy-two. I might not even make it to eighty-two. That's what worries me most about this. I don't want to see her saddled alone with all this responsibility.”

“I understand that, Jo-Jo,” Miranda said. “But I still want to do it.”

“If we go ahead,” Jo-Jo argued, “it's gonna tie you to the ranch until you're thirty-six. I have some big concerns about that.”

Wade sat back in his chair, fingers steepled. “What are you thinking you'd like to do, Miz Sutton?”

Jo-Jo's faded gray eyes narrowed. “I want to ensure that Miranda has a way out of this in the event something were to happen to me. Can you do that, Wade?”

“If anything were to happen to you, Miz Sutton, all of those decisions would automatically fall on your executor. Upon your passing, this agreement could either be nullified or renewed according to their wishes.”

“But what if Aunt Judith wants to sell the place?” Miranda asked. “You know she would, Jo-Jo.”

“Yes. She would,” Jo-Jo agreed. “And that's part of the reason I brought you here. A few weeks ago I instructed Wade to designate you as the executor of my estate.”

Miranda's hand flew to her mouth. “You did?”

“Yes. I rewrote my will,” Jo-Jo said matter-of-factly. “Judith and Robert have no children and no desire to be saddled with the ranch. Of course, you'll have to work out some kind of deal with them in the event of my passing. You might have to sell a section of the land, but all decisions regarding the ranch proper will yours.”

“You're willing the ranch to me?” Miranda repeated incredulously. “Jo-Jo. I don't know what to say.”

“Can I take off my lawyer hat and voice a personal concern?” Wade asked.

“Sure,” Jo-Jo replied.

“I'm just wondering how you two ladies are going to manage this all by yourselves. I think you'll need some help.”

“Hiring someone will be my next move after we sign the contract,” Jo-Jo said. “The revenue generated from the horses should be enough to pay someone.”

“It should be more than sufficient,” he agreed. “Do you have anyone in mind?”

“I know someone who has experience with mustangs,” Miranda said, “but I haven't yet been able to talk him into it.” Although Keith was the best candidate, they'd hardly spoken in weeks, not that she put much faith in changing his mind. She hated how they'd parted, but she'd promised herself not to repeat her mistake. She was waiting for him to reach out to her. Problem was, he still hadn't.

“Ranching is a very small world,” Wade said. “Mind if I ask who it is?”

“His name is Keith Russo, but he also goes by Two Wolves,” Miranda replied. “His family has a horse-leasing outfit outside Riverton, Wyoming.”

Wade's gaze narrowed. “How do you know Keith?”

“I met him first in California where he was doing a horse clinic, and then again in Nevada when I was filming a wild-horse roundup. Do you know him?” she asked Wade.

“Not personally,” he replied. “But I saw him years ago when he used to do his wild-horse routine at the rodeos. He did some pretty amazing things with that horse, but I don't know if he was really the one who trained it or not.”

“He was,” Miranda said. “I heard the whole story. Plus I saw him with those mustangs. He was amazing.”

“I'm not saying anything against the man,” Wade said carefully. “I just don't know if you could count on him.”

“The question is moot at this point,” Miranda said. “He isn't interested in the job.”

“Then I'd be glad to put the word out for you, maybe even help screen some ranch hands. My brother Dirk and I know a lot of cowboys around these parts.”

“That's very kind of you,” Jo-Jo said. “We just may take you up on that.”

“Are you ready to move forward on this, or do you need some time to think about it?” Wade asked.

Miranda eyed her grandmother.

“I don't guess there's anything more to discuss,” Jo-Jo said.

Wade leaned forward, handing her a ballpoint pen. “If there are no questions, all I need is your signature on that line right there.”

“No. No questions.” Jo-Jo's voice was resolute. Miranda's pulse raced as her grandmother plied pen to paper and scratched her signature.

* * *

“My lawyer's quite a hottie, isn't he?” Jo-Jo remarked with a coy look. “They say he's the most eligible bachelor in the whole Ruby Valley.”

“I admit he wasn't at all what I expected,” Miranda confessed. “But you're wasting your time if you're trying to play matchmaker, Jo-Jo. I'm not looking for a relationship.”

Jo-Jo pursed her lips. “Still hung up on that Keith?”

Miranda sighed. “There's just something about him, Jo-Jo. When I first met him, I thought he was a phony and a womanizer, but that's not who he is at all. It was just this persona he'd created. I really care about him, but I'm also very confused.”

“I thought his interest in you was pretty obvious,” Jo-Jo said, “but his actions prove he's not someone you can rely on.” She hesitated, brows furrowed. “I don't know if a man like that is any good for you.”

“Why do you say that?” Miranda asked, suddenly defensive.

“You hear nothing from him for weeks, and then he shows up out of the blue. Next, he disappears again. A woman needs a man who's going to be there for her through thick and thin.”

“That's not his fault, Jo-Jo. It's his job that's taken him away.”

“A job he doesn't believe in?” Jo-Jo said. “Makes me wonder about his character.”

“He doesn't have a defective character, Jo-Jo. He's just trying to figure out what he wants from life. A lot of people feel lost at different times in their lives. Just like me, he's been struggling, but unlike me, he's estranged from those he cares most about.”

Jo-Jo's gaze narrowed. “Why is he estranged?”

“His grandparents think he exploited his heritage. He wants to reconcile with them, but it's a really complicated situation. They're still angry about some things they didn't approve of and won't let him come back home.”

“It's called tough love, Miranda. Sometimes we have to make things unpleasant for those we love in order for them to see the light.”

“I know, but I really hurt for him. I think part of his refusal to work here is that deep down he wants to be a part of something and not just hired help. That's what he really needs, Jo-Jo. To belong.”

“Don't we all?” Jo-Jo said.

Their conversation paused as the waitress appeared with two huge slices of chocolate cream pie. Miranda rolled her eyes in bliss with the first bite. “It's not
quite
as good as yours, but pretty darned close.”

“Not even close,” Jo-Jo said. “I'll prove it to you this Thanksgiving. I'm glad you'll be here this year. I spent all three holidays last year with Robert and Judy in Phoenix, but I'd much rather have been at home. I enjoyed seeing them, but six weeks was far too long, especially since we spent so much of it looking at condos in retirement communities.”