Saddle Up(43)

Miranda laid a hand on her grandmother’s arm. “Jo-Jo, why didn’t you call me?”

“What for?” Jo-Jo asked.

“To come and help you. I hate that you didn’t.”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I could handle ol’ Marvin. It’s the workload I just can’t handle anymore.”

Miranda followed her grandmother into the house.

“Are you hungry?” Jo-Jo asked.

“Not really, but I’m sure I will be by supper time.”

Miranda salivated at the memory of her grandmother’s cooking. No one could cook like Jo-Jo. Of course, no one probably should. Jo-Jo slathered real butter and cream on virtually everything. The doctor had even warned that it would worsen Gramp’s heart disease, but he’d waved off the warning, saying he’d rather eat what he liked and die a happy man.

“Why has it been so long since you’ve come out to see me?” Jo-Jo asked. The question, posed with a mildly reproving look, made Miranda feel guilty, as was intended.

“Just really busy, Jo-Jo,” she replied. “Incredibly busy with school and then work, but it looks like I may have some time on my hands now.”

“Really? How’s that?”

Miranda sighed. “I’m thinking about leaving my job.”

“You are? Now that reeks of a story. C’mon to the kitchen. I’ll put on a pot of coffee while you tell me all about it.”

For the next two hours, Miranda sat in her favorite spot in the whole house, Jo-Jo’s kitchen, sipping coffee and munching on her favorite childhood snack—Ritz crackers and Velveeta cheese.

“My entire life has revolved around certain goals, but I don’t feel the same way about it as I did before. I thought I wanted to work in L.A., but it isn’t at all what I thought it would be.”

“If you were so unhappy, you should be glad to be free,” Jo-Jo said.

“Part of me is, but change scares me,” Miranda said.

“Nothing in life is ever guaranteed but change, sweetheart. Believing otherwise is only fooling yourself.”

“Maybe you’re right, but I still don’t like uncertainty. I just don’t know what I should do with my life.”

Jo-Jo laid a hand on hers. “Don’t fret. You’ll figure it all out. Just give it some time. Why don’t you tell me more about this film you’re working on?”

Miranda took a savoring sip of coffee. “It started out purely by chance when my roommate Lexi told me about a wild-horse roundup. A wild-horse activist group was trying to sue over it, so the court ordered a videographer to satisfy them that the livestock company was treating the horses humanely. As soon as I took the job, I realized there was an opportunity to do so much more with it, so I decided to make a documentary.”

“And now you think it’s worth risking your job over? After working all this time to put yourself through film school?” Jo-Jo set her coffee cup down with a resonating click.

“Yeah. I do,” Miranda said. “There is so much more to this story than meets the eye. I need to do this, Jo-Jo. I could never live with myself if I didn’t see it through.”

“That’s my girl! I don’t care what you do in this world as long as you believe in yourself and what you’re doing.”

“That’s the only problem with this project,” Miranda said. “I believe in what I’m doing but not in what they are doing.”

“Why’s that?” Jo-Jo frowned. “Are they mistreating the horses?”

“No. It’s not that. The livestock company really seems to care about the safety and welfare of the animals. It’s the program itself that’s all wrong. Did you know there are over fifty thousand horses in captivity?”

“I’ve heard a bit about this lately but had no idea there were so many,” Jo-Jo said. “Matter of fact, the BLM is looking to make deals with private ranchers. I’ve heard a lot of talk about that lately at the co-op and the stockyard. There’s an outfit about fifty miles south of here that’s preparing to take on a bunch of mustangs. Some of the neighbors are really pissed off about it.”

“But why?” Miranda asked.

“A lot of ranchers fear the horses will get out and run their young calves to death. Others are worried about the impact on the elk, but I don’t see the problem as long as they all maintain their fences. Horses respect them much better than cows do. Cows push through fences all the time.”

Stirring her coffee, Miranda gazed out the bay window that overlooked the back pastures, which showed large patches of green even in late autumn. It was still her favorite place in the whole world. She wondered what it would be like to make a home here.

“Are you lonely out here by yourself?” Miranda asked.

“Sometimes,” Jo-Jo answered. “I won’t lie about that, but I still have mixed feelings about selling. Bud’s granddad first homesteaded the place. It’s been in the family for generations. I raised my children here. I always thought your father would run it one day, or even Judith and Robert, but they won’t ever move here. Judith couldn’t leave Montana fast enough. I swear she intentionally picked the nursing program that would take her the farthest from home.

“It’s been a lot of work to keep the place up. I never minded when Bud and I were in it together—the ranch was our dream. But now that I’m alone, my heart just isn’t in it anymore. It’s all just…hard work.”