Saddle Up(51)

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.

Six hours later, he pulled his truck and trailer through the gates leading to the Circle S Ranch in Silver Star, Montana. Pulling up in front of a large outbuilding, he parked and cut the engine. The place was large and neat but seemed completely deserted—except for a trio of barking canines: a blue heeler and two Australian sheepdogs.

A middle-aged woman, presumably Miranda’s grandmother, emerged from the house, wearing an inquisitive look. Miranda followed, her mouth falling instantly open. “Keith!” she exclaimed. “What are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He grinned. “Wasn’t too hard. Silver Star isn’t a very big place. I only had to ask for the Sutton ranch.”

“B-but I thought you were en route to Utah.”

“I was,” he confessed, “but I decided to take a little detour.”

“Hundreds of miles is hardly little.” She laughed.

He’d almost forgotten her contagious laugh and dimpled smile. It was only her grandmother’s presence that kept him from pulling Miranda into his arms and greeting her the way he wanted to. Once more, his wants and needs were on hold, but at least it was only hours now instead of weeks.

“Keith, this is my grandmother,” Miranda said. “Jo-Jo, this is Keith Russo. He’s…he’s…the wrangler…I told you about.”

He tipped his hat. “Good to meet you, Miz Sutton.” The awkward introduction stung a little, but how else was she supposed to introduce him?

“Jo-Jo, please,” the older woman replied. “Or Jo, if you like. It’s what all my friends and family call me.”

“Am I a friend if I tell you I’ve come to take your granddaughter away?” Keith asked.

“Depends.” Jo-Jo eyed him appraisingly. “Do you intend to bring her back again?”