Saddle Up(5)

He’d thought for some time about making some changes and finally setting down roots somewhere. He’d accepted the invitation to come to Rancho Santa Fe, hoping to explore the opportunities here, but he already knew California wasn’t for him.

“You really should,” Bibi continued. “The camera absolutely loves you. I think we could get you into films. There are so few indigenous actors in L.A. The field is wide-open. All you need to do is enroll in some classes.”

He’d been around long enough to know nothing came for free. It didn’t make sense that someone with her reputation would want to make a promo video for him. He’d wondered from the start what strings were attached.

“You know, I think your looks are exotic enough to carry off several ethnicities.” Her gaze swept slowly over him in a way that answered any lingering doubts about what she wanted. Her lips curved into that suggestive half smile he’d seen countless times. “Why don’t we have dinner tonight and talk about it?”

The thought made him shudder. He wondered how many times her face had been lifted. Bibi was sixty if a day, but fighting the years tooth and nail. He forced a smile. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid I have plans tonight.” Not exactly true. He’d only hoped to have plans with the camerawoman he’d met a few hours ago, but it was the first excuse that had come to mind.

“Tomorrow then,” Bibi said. “I’ll drive you to my beach house, and we’ll review your tape together.” Her smile tightened. “I won’t take no for an answer. If you have other plans, change them.”

Her message was clear. He wouldn’t get another shot.





Chapter 3


Wind River Valley, Wyoming

Stab, squeeze, lift, release. Another clod of earth displaced. Ignoring his burning muscles and blistered hands, Keith continued the mindless mechanical rhythm under the burning sun, his body on autopilot while his mind raced. He just wished he could manage the direction of those thoughts, but they were as out of his control as the chinook winds. Scowling at the dirt, he raised his arms, jabbing the ground with another grunt.

Stab, squeeze, lift, release. He’d felt like king of the world only a year ago. Was this all he had to look forward to for the next thirty—digging holes, pulling barbwire, and shoveling horse shit? He could only guess that when he’d sold his soul to the devil spirits, it must have been insufficient payment.

Stab, squeeze, lift, release. It was because of her that he was starting over with nothing—his entire life and livelihood up in smoke. When he’d rejected her, she’d turned on him like a viper. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

Stab, squeeze, lift, release. This was his sixth day of riding fence. The ranch was vast and remote. With nineteen thousand acres, he’d be out here for a couple more weeks at least. The isolation was the only blessing. It gave him time to think. He’d come to accept his fate, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He told himself it was all for the best. It was well past time to get his life back on track.

Grinding his teeth, he raised his arms and punched the ground even harder. Crunch. The jarring pain careened up his arms and into his shoulders before the crash of metal on solid bedrock registered in his ears.

“Sweet motherf*cking son of a bitch!” His shrieked curse carried on the wind, but it wasn’t enough. Spinning like a discus thrower, he flung the posthole digger as far as his numb arms would allow. Venting his frustration and rage was only a temporary relief. Once he cooled down, he’d have to retrieve his instrument of torture and dig another f*cking hole.

At the sound of an approaching ATV, he shaded his eyes against the late afternoon sun, squinting at the horizon. His gaze tracked the trail of dust originating in the direction of the ranch. As the vehicle got closer, he recognized Tonya. He snatched up his discarded shirt and jerked his arms into the sleeves, not bothering with the buttons.

Moments later she put the brake on and dismounted. “Got some food, water, and supplies for you, Cuz. Thought you might be getting low.” He hoped she’d brought something better than jerky and canned beans. “So how’s it coming along?”

“It’s coming,” he grunted.

“Really? Don’t you think you might need this? Or do you plan to use your bare hands?” She reached into the utility cart and tossed him the digger he’d thrown.

“Must have dropped it.”

She gave him an appraising stare. “I know this has to be hard on you after living like some kind of movie star—”

He raised a hand to cut her off. “It’s honest work.” And, admittedly, more honest than what he’d been doing for the past eight years.

“I got wind of something that might suit you better,” Tonya suggested.

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“The BLM called the ranch last night, looking for wranglers for some emergency horse gathers. They’re removing seven hundred head from the checkerboard, and then they have another emergency roundup scheduled out in Nevada.”

He pushed his hat back. “Why you telling me?”

“C’mon, Cuz. Don’t be ridiculous,” she chided. “I can’t believe you’d rather dig holes and pull wire.”

He jutted his chin. “Someone has to do it.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you wasting yourself like this?”