Saddle Up(39)

“I think so,” she finally replied. “I have several weeks of editing work ahead of me to put this all together, but I’m pretty certain I know what I want to do with it. What about you?” she asked. “What will you do now?”

“I’ll be here in Nevada for two or three more weeks,” he replied. “After we’ve finished this contract, I’ll be heading back to Wyoming for a couple more gathers there.”

“Will you return to the reservation after that?”

“I don’t know.” He looked sad but resigned. “Probably not. I might look for some full-time ranch work. I haven’t decided yet.”

“If you want ranch work, maybe Jo-Jo would know of something?”

“Jo-Jo?”

“My grandmother. I told you she has a ranch. It’s my favorite place in the world…or always was.” Her smile faded.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“It’s been for sale for over a year, since my grandfather passed away. Jo-Jo really doesn’t want to sell it, but she can’t run it alone, not as a cattle outfit, anyway.”

“What about your father? Why doesn’t he help her?”

“My dad passed away when I was four. It was a stupid accident on a tractor.”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know what it’s like. I lost my father too.”

“I barely recall it anymore,” she said “But what makes me sadder is that I hardly even remember him now, just a few fuzzy memories. He was an only son. His sister, my aunt Judith, couldn’t wait to get away from the ranch. They managed to get by with part-time help until Gramps died. But now Jo-Jo can’t afford to pay for more help, so she’s selling out. You know, this entire experience has me wondering what it would require to take on some of these BLM horses. Do ranchers get reimbursed for keeping them?” Miranda asked.

“Yes. They get paid a per diem for each head.” Keith’s gaze narrowed. “Why are you asking?”

“Maybe this is another option for her to consider? It seems to me these horses wouldn’t need anywhere near the time and care as cattle ranching, right? If the government offers a subsidy, maybe she could still keep the ranch?”

“C’mon, Miranda. Do you really think an old lady is capable of managing a herd of wild horses?”

“Old lady?” Miranda laughed. “You’ve never met Jo-Jo. She may be my grandma, but she’s anything but old. She can still rope and ride with the best of them.”

“She still couldn’t do it alone. It’s nothing like running cattle. She’d need full-time help from someone who knows these horses.”

“You know these horses,” Miranda said. “And you just told me you were going to look for ranch work.”

He raised a hand. “Hold it right there. This is crazy talk. I never said anything about mustangs.”

“But why not? You just adopted one, didn’t you?”

“One horse isn’t the same as taking on a herd of them, Miranda.”

“Maybe not,” she said. “But I just can’t help wanting to do something.”

“Isn’t that the purpose of your film?”

“I thought so before I understood the complexity of the problem. Until now I even thought gathering the horses was the solution. But that’s not really the case at all, is it?”

“No.” He leaned back against his truck, arms crossed over his chest. “Gathering is not the right answer, and neither is turning your grandmother’s ranch into a mustang sanctuary.”

“It was only a thought,” she replied, disappointed at his dismissive answer. Why had she expected more? Maybe it was all just wishful thinking that she could maintain some kind of connection with him. A long silence followed. He suddenly seemed so unreadable.

“Keith?” she began again.

“Yes?”

“Um, what if I have questions? You know, pertaining to the film? Is there a number or email I can reach you at?”

“In case you have questions?” His mouth curved subtly at one corner, as if he saw through her subterfuge. “You have Mitch’s number, right?”

She nodded. “Yeah. I programmed it.”

“If you need anything more, he knows how to reach me.”

He wouldn’t even give her his number? Her heart sank all the way into her stomach.

“I don’t have a phone or email to give you,” he explained. “I don’t even have a permanent address. If you need me, call Mitch.”

“Oh. Okay then,” she said softly. Sadly. What was left to say?

The moment she’d dreaded had come at last. She was leaving, returning to her work, to her world. Would he at least kiss her good-bye? Their gazes met and held. His eyes flickered as if he was asking himself the same question. Her pulse sped. For a moment she thought he would kiss her, but then he seemed to change his mind. She waited a few more agonizing seconds, but he made no move, just stood there watching her, his expression impassive, his hands by his sides.

Her throat tightened as she turned to her car and reached for the door.

“Good-bye, Keith,” she whispered. “Thanks for…well…everything.”

Did he feel nothing? Did this whole thing mean nothing? “Good-bye, Aiwattsi. Be well.”