Saddle Up(59)

“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.”