Saddle Up(84)

“Wyoming’s full of them,” Keith said. “The only good thing about that is if there’s wolves up there, the horses have just one more reason to come back home. I’d almost lay money that we’ll have some of them back in the pasture by tomorrow. In the meantime, I’d like to go and talk to the Knowltons. It would be helpful if we could at least pin down the general area where were spotted.”

“I’ll phone Donna,” Jo-Jo said, “and let her know to expect you.”

*

Two hours later, Miranda and Keith left the Flying K with only the vaguest idea of where one band of horses might be. “Dirk wasn’t the most helpful person in the world, was he?” Miranda remarked.

“Yeah. He’s nothing at all like the guy I remember.”

“You knew him before?”

“Not well, but rodeo is a really small world. After two full summers doing my trick-riding gig in Cody, there weren’t too many cowboys I didn’t meet at one time or another. As I recall, Dirk Knowlton used to be a helluva rough rider.”

“He’s rough all right. All I can say is his brother’s a whole lot more personable.”

Keith felt an uncomfortable churning in his gut. “How would you know?”

“Wade is Jo-Jo’s attorney,” she said. “I met him when he reviewed the contracts. Jo-Jo even tried to play matchmaker.”

“Did she now?” he remarked, careful to keep his tone bland.

“Yeah.” She slanted Keith a sly look. “She was quite enthralled with him. Said Wade Knowlton’s the most eligible bachelor in all of Madison County.”

“And what did you think of him?” The truck gave a slight lurch as he slammed it into third gear.

“Oh, he was a real charmer all right…” She grinned. “But not my type at all.”

He glanced her way. “No? Why’s that?”

“He was far too staid for me.” Her grin spread wider. “Not many people know this, but I tend to go for the more adventurous type—the kind of guy who likes to throw knives and roast snakes. You know, the type who also tells erotic bedtime stories…the one whose kisses make my toes curl and knows the secrets of my body better than I do.” She cocked a teasing brow. “Know anybody like that?”

“Oh yeah, sweetheart. I know that guy real well.” He reached for her, pulling her close to his side.

“Keith? I understand your reluctance to stay here, but it makes no sense for you not to be part of the ranch. I hate this idiotic situation. It seems so stupid and pointless. If we didn’t have you, we’d have to hire someone else. Why can’t we be together and work together? Lots of couples do so successfully.”

“Because it would look like exactly the scenario that film intimated about me—that I’m just a lothario who preys on horse-loving women.”

“But you aren’t!” she insisted.

“You know that, and I know that, but what about the rest of the world? How would it appear if I’m living with you and your seventy-two-year-old grandmother, just the three of us in a happy little ménage?”

“Weren’t you the one who said other people’s opinions don’t matter? If you don’t work here, you’d have to work somewhere close by for us to be together, and then people would probably talk anyway. So what difference does it really make?”

“My good name makes all the difference in the world to me,” he said. “That film destroyed my credibility, and I’m still trying to deal with it.”

Miranda chewed her lip. “Then we’ll just have to find a way to repair the damage.”

“Nothing can ever undo the damage.”

“So you’re just going to let that film stand in our way?”

“No,” he said. He still didn’t know the answer, but one thing he knew for certain, his future happiness lay in finding it. “We’ll figure something out, Aiwattsi, I promise, but right now our biggest concern is getting those horses back.”





Chapter 29


The next day, Keith and Miranda stopped at several small hole-in-the-wall bars, making inquiries about Marvin. He had plenty of outstanding tabs, but no one had seen the man…until they asked about him at the Pioneer.

The man behind the bar was big and imposing, with features as worn and weathered as the cracked leather barstools. He zeroed in on Keith, eying him up and down suspiciously. “Haven’t see you ’round here b’fore.”

“Nope,” Keith replied and then sat on a stool, patting the one next to him for Miranda.

The bartender hesitated. His gaze darted pointedly to a sign posted on the wall to the right of the bar. WE RESERVE THE RIGHT TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE. He then turned back to wiping glasses.

What was his problem? That Keith was a stranger? Or did he have an issue with Indians? Fearing the growing tension, Miranda stepped in. “Hi. I’m Miranda Sutton. Maybe you know my grandparents? Bud and Josephine?”

The bartender’s expression suddenly relaxed. “Yeah, Bud was a good ’un. I was sorry to hear he passed on. How’s Jo-Jo doing these days?”

“She’s well enough,” Miranda replied, “but needing help with the ranch. That’s why Keith and I are here.”