Cowboy Snapshots

    

              The following is the first part of a novel that I have written. If I get enough requests for the rest of it I will put it all on this blog. Please leave comments if you want to read the rest of this story. It is a romantic novel about a woman photographer, Miranda,  that meets and falls in love with a cowboy, Cody. But Miranda is being stalked by a former boyfriend, and Cody wants to find the rustlers that have been steeling cattle. They run into all kinds of problems making their relationship work and catching the outlaws.

 

 

   Cowboy Snapshots

 

Chapter 1

“You’re going to do WHAT?” asked Miranda in disbelief at what she had heard her mother say over the telephone. She jammed the receiver tighter against her ear so she could be sure she was hearing everything correctly, while she kicked off her shoes and began to shrug out of her pants suit. She could not believe what her mother was saying and listened with her mouth open, trying to get a word in, but unsure of what to say. And her mother was rattling, going on and on. Her mother never did that.

“You heard me, Miranda,” said Wilma to her daughter in a calm voice. “And why are you yelling. I would have thought you would be pleased that I am getting married. You have always said how worried you are that I didn’t have any serious relationships with any men, after your dad died. You encourage me to date, and go out with different men. You have even set up some blind dates for me. Now I’m going to get married. I would like you to come. So would Jesse and his family. I know two weeks doesn’t give you much notice to ask for the time off from your job, but Jesse and I wanted to have the wedding as soon as possible. We're not getting any younger, you know,” Wilma paused to take a breath, but Miranda still couldn’t bring herself to comment. She was still in shock. She grabbed a pair of matching sweat pants and shirt out of the closet and pulled them on, while Wilma rushed on more delightedly, “Oh, I’m just so excited. I would never have guessed, at my age, that I would fall in love with a cowboy. A real, honest to goodness, cowboy. And to live in New Mexico of all places. And all because I let Elsie talk me into going with her on that sight seeing tour to Santa Fe last spring. Remember how I told you that we rented a car and had a flat tire and Jesse stopped to help us fix it. And now we’re getting married and I’m moving to New Mexico.”

Miranda flopped down on her faded, wore-out sofa. “Mexico? But Mother?” Miranda had never called her Mother ‘mom’. “Mother, that’s clear out of the United States. That’s another country. You can’t.”

“No, Dear. New Mexico. I’m moving to New Mexico. Not the country of Mexico. The state of New Mexico. It’s our 48^th state. It’s between Arizona and Texas. Remember your geography?”

“Okay, Mother. So it is a state. It may as well be another country. It’s so far away from Virginia. And what about your job?” In all of her thirty-three years, Miranda could never remember her mother being this exhilarated about anything. Wilma had always been extremely calm and cool-headed, which was one of the reasons she had managed to get a job as secretary to one of the best lawyers in Richmond, Virginia.

“Oh, Miranda, I already turned in my resignation today. Jesse flew in yesterday and I’m packing so I can leave in a day or so. I can’t wait to get back to New Mexico.”

“Mother, you can’t just up and quit your job. You worked long and hard to get where you are.”

“But, Darling, Jesse say’s I’ll never have to work again, if I don’t want to. He say’s I can do anything I want to do. He has a big ranch with lots of help, and I can help in the house, or go riding and maybe entertain a few guests now and then. Or just what ever I want.”

Miranda held the phone from her ear. Her mother, who had never liked the outdoors, or animals, had quit her job to marry a cowboy and live on a ranch. “Mother, I’m coming down. We’ll talk about this.” It was about a three-hour drive from her apartment in Baltimore to Richmond. She could be there by midnight.

“No, Miranda, don’t be silly. It would be a long drive for nothing as there’s nothing to talk about. I’ve already decided. Oh, and Miranda, I would like you to come and take the photographs. You are such a wonderful photographer.” Wilma paused and Miranda could hear the deep voice of a man. She heard her mother giggle before she continued. “Now I have to go. Let me know when your flight will arrive in Albuquerque and I’ll meet you.” Wilma was taking it for granted that Miranda would be there and do the photographs. “You’ll never find the ranch otherwise. Its way off the beaten track, even for New Mexico. Did I tell you that the nearest town, where Jesse gets his mail, is a cute, little village called Chama? Bye, Darling.”

There was a click in Miranda’s ear as her Mother hung up. She laid down the cell phone and shook her head. She was sure this day had been a nightmare and that she’d wake up soon. Surely she would. She pinched herself, but it didn’t seem to help. And she could feel a bad headache coming on very quickly.

Talk about your bad hair days. This had been the ultimate. She had heard the saying, ‘Mama said there would be day’s like this’, but this one had taken on new meaning since ‘Mama’ was being a large part of her dilemma. She slumped down onto the sofa in resignation, hugging a throw pillow to her. She hadn’t even been able to tell her mother about what had happened at work. She might be a good photographer, but still she had been laid off. Down-sizing, it was called. The big photo studio she had worked for was being bought out by an even bigger studio and a certain number of people were – well, expendable. She was one of them. No, it wouldn’t be any trouble to get some time off to go to the wedding. She had all the time she would need. She just didn’t have a job to come back to.

She took a couple of aspirin, thought about eating something but couldn’t find anything that was appetizing. Her small cat eased its way into her arms. The animal seemed to since the hurt, and depression that Miranda felt at the thought of loosing her job, as well as her mother calling to say she was marrying a cowboy.

“Oh, Crystal.” She pulled the fluffy white cat close to her, and it began purring and kneading its paws against Miranda’s arm. The cat was like a talisman to Miranda, as well as being her best friend, and it seemed like her only friend. The cat looked at her with half-closed eyes. Eyes that were a golden amber, that seemed to be able to look to the deeps of Miranda’s soul. Miranda pretended that the small animal was telling her that everything would be all right. Her headache would go away, and she would find a better job, and her mother would never move to New Mexico. She tried to make her mind a complete blank. To shove all thoughts from it. But one thought kept pushing back in as fast as she tried to forget it.

Her mother was marrying a cowboy.

**********

Cody hunkered down on his long slim legs so he could examine the multitude of tracks going into and out of the pasture through the break in the fence. Break? He didn’t think so. Most likely the fence had been cut. From what Cody could make out of the scattered tracks someone, several someones, had backed a stock trailer up to the hole in the fence, then loaded about ten head of cows and calves. Cows and calves that didn’t belong to them. It wasn’t the first time it had happened, either. Several times this summer, Cody or one of the hands, had found this same type of situation. And not just on his ranch. Other ranches and farms in the area had been hit by the rustlers. Cody wanted to get his hands on whoever was steeling cattle. He was sure the El Gato Ranch had lost over a hundred head of cattle as well as several horses in the past several months, and so for no one had any idea who was behind it. He had his suspicions, but had been unable to find any proof.

Cody stood, then walked to the blue Dodge pickup. He located several tools behind the seat of the truck and did a quick temporary repair to the barbed wire fence. He would send out one of the hands with some new wire to do a better job. Disgusted, he tossed the tools back behind the seat, then got in and started the truck, put it in gear, and headed for the house. He would have to tell the Sheriff about this latest loss and then repeat it to his dad when Jesse returned from his trip to Virginia. This wasn’t going to set well with either of them, either. There had just been too much rustling going on. But the rustling wasn’t the worst of it. There was also the unexplained death of Hobie Miller. Hobie had been a ranch hand on the El Gato Ranch for several years. He was one of those cowboys who seemed to drift from one ranch to another his whole life. Last spring Cody had sent Hobie into the high country to look for some strays. His horse had come back without him. Days later his body had been found. It looked as if he had fallen off a cliff. Cody had always wondered if there was more to Hobie’s death than just the accident the Sheriff had called it. Could it have been connected in some way to the cattle rustling?

Thoughts of Jesse didn’t make him happy, either. He and his dad weren’t seeing eye to eye on things lately. The problem was with that eastern woman, Wilma. The one his dad was determined to marry. And she seemed just as determined to marry Jesse. Cody guessed she was okay, even somewhat nice, or at least as nice as an eastern woman could be. He wondered what made such a woman want to give up her fancy job in Virginia and move to a ranch in New Mexico And what made Jesse want to marry her and bring her to the El Gato Ranch. Hadn’t Jesse learned from his, Cody’s, mistake with Angela?

Angela had been a local girl, not an easterner. At first he and Angela had a good marriage, or Cody had thought it was. Especially after Davey was born. Then the fights and arguments had begun. Before long Angela decided being a wife and a mom on a ranch wasn’t for her. Cody had never understood why she had left, without a word of good-bye, even to Davey. Now she was an actress in Hollywood, and Cody was a single parent, trying to raise a teenage son, while running a ranch.

Now his dad wanted to get married to another woman from the city. Cody was convinced if Jesse and Wilma did get married it would end up in a divorce just as his marriage to a citified woman had done. If only he could persuade his dad of that. Cody slowed the truck, turned off the narrow dirt trail that was called a road onto a slightly better dirt road that led to the El Gato Ranch. He would have to talk some sense into Jesse before things went any farther. That is he would talk to Jesse if, and when he got back from picking her up.

**********

The big jet airliner rose into the skies over Dallas, Texas and then leveled off. In a moment the light came on that informed the passengers they could release their seat-belts. Miranda unsnapped hers and accepted a soda from a stewardess. Sitting by the window she looked out at the sky and saw a few white clouds float by. She had flown out of Virginia before sunup that morning, then landed in Dallas where she changed planes for the final flight to Albuquerque, New Mexico.

During the past ten days she had come to the realization that her mother was going to marry Jesse Maclin, in spite of her objections. Following Wilma’s announcement, Miranda had driven to Richmond where she had talked herself blue in the face, but it hadn’t made any difference.

While there, she had met Jesse Maclin. As she had expected he wore a cowboy hat, a western style shirt, jeans and western boots. He was tall, a little over six feet, she guessed, not too thin, but certainly not overweight. Even though he did have just a slight paunch at his belly. He still had a full head of silvery-gray hair, cut short, but not too short. His face was lined, and tanned with a weather-beaten, outdoorsy look. He sported a full mustache that was still dark in color, but was clean shaven, otherwise. She decided he wasn’t to bad looking – for an older cowboy. Or would have been if she had been looking at him as only a model for a photo opt. But he wanted to marry her mother. So she was looking for anything she could find wrong about him. And she wasn’t finding much. He looked to be physically in good health for a man of his age. Again Miranda was guessing at late fifties or early sixties. Not wanting her mother to be marrying a man who might need a lot of medical care, Miranda had asked Wilma about his health, and been told to mind her own business.

He had a deep rumbling voice with a slight western drawl, and was polite, considerate, and respectful. He had answered her tactless questions better than she would have, had the situation been reversed, but never tried to push any opinions on her. He talked about his ranch, but also seemed very interested in her career as a photographer, and Wilma’s as a legal secretary. His speech said he was educated, but sometimes he would lapse into a rougher way of talking that indicated he dealt with all kinds of people, including those that weren’t as well refined. He did seem to regret that Wilma was quitting her job, but he seemed very happy that she had said yes to his marriage proposal and had agreed to move to his ranch.

Taking her and Wilma out to dinner, he chose an expensive restaurant, seated the two women, ordered wine, paid for the dinner with a credit card, and showed other manners that convinced Miranda that he did understand proper etiquette and how to behave in polite company. She had been terrified that he might be an uneducated boor, who was looking for a rich widow to spend his last days with.

Glad that she was wrong, Miranda was still a bit concerned to see her usually calm, collected and unflappable mother acting like a teenager with her first crush, or almost anyway. At age fifty-seven, Wilma Kane was still attractive, even if a little bit plumper than she would have liked. She swam regularly at a local gym, dressed in the latest fashions, and had her slightly gray hair, cut in a relaxed, easy-care style that softened the few wrinkles beginning to develop around her eyes and mouth. Her light pink, polished fingernails were her own, and her makeup was minimal, although Miranda noticed an extra flush to her cheeks. To her disgust and annoyance Wilma seemed to hang on every word Jesse spoke and frequently reached out a hand to lightly caress his hand or arm.

Jesse, too, seemed to want to constantly touch Wilma, and Miranda several times caught both of them staring into each others eyes totally unaware of her or anything else, but themselves. Officially Jesse had a room at a high-class hotel, but Miranda was suspicious that he was actually spending the nights at Wilma’s home. There was no doubt that Wilma and Jesse were very much in love. At least for the moment. Miranda wondered how long it would last.

Miranda knew her mother had dated several men over the years since her dad had died in a car accident fourteen years before, although she had never been serious about any of them. Miranda had still been in college when her dad died. She remembered her mother had grieved almost silently, then calmly gone back to work. Very seldom was Troy Kane even mentioned. Now she could barely remember what kind of relationship her parents had. She remembered her dad as being gone on business more than he was home. Someday she would have to ask Wilma more about him.

Suddenly she realized there was a stewardess reminding passengers to fasten their seat-belts because they would be landing soon. The Captain’s voice came over the intercom telling them that in a few minutes they would be landing in Albuquerque, New Mexico, and the weather was a dry, 95 degrees.

Wilma had told Miranda that Albuquerque was the nearest airport to the small, northern New Mexico town of Chama. It was another two or three hours from Albuquerque to Jesse’s ranch near Chama. Wilma and Elsie were to meet her for the drive.

Miranda had hoped to fly with Elsie, but Elsie had come ahead to help Wilma get ready for the wedding. Wilma and Elsie Floyd had been best friends since their early school years. Aunt Elsie, Miranda had called her as a child. Elsie, who was tall and gangling and had a voice that could wake the dead, but she had fingers that literally danced in overdrive on any kind of computer keyboard. Miranda wasn’t real sure what she did; just that she was a computer genius that talked the language of computers. Miranda and Elsie had indulged in several long talks about Wilma’s infatuation with a cowboy. Elsie had seemed all for her friends marriage to the cowboy. Miranda agreed with Elsie that Wilma needed a man in her life, but did it have to be Jesse Maclin.

The loss of her job had prompted Wilma to ask Miranda to move back into the house in Richmond. Especially since she, Wilma, was moving to New Mexico. Miranda had agreed to the offer. She could look after the house and look for a new job in Richmond, as well as anywhere else. She had spent the past few days packing her few belonging in the small apartment in Baltimore, saying good-by to a few friends, like Henry and Betty, who had given her the kitten Crystal, and moving back into her childhood home. It felt as if hers and Wilma’s quiet, orderly lives had suddenly been turned upside down. She hoped Crystal would be okay while she was gone. Wilma’s neighbor had agreed to look after the cat while Miranda was in New Mexico.

Now here she was fixing to land in Albuquerque, New Mexico. What would it be like? She had done some traveling in her life, had even been to California once, but had never spent anytime in the southwestern state. What could be so wonderful about this place that Wilma had agreed to live here? New Mexico’s nickname was ‘the land of enchantment’. Well, she was about to find out if there really was anything enchanting about the state. The plane lost elevation. She had a glimpse of a high mountain range that she assumed were the Sandia Mountains, with a narrow, silver, ribbon to the west of the mountains that had to be the famous Rio Grande River. Albuquerque was a large city full of homes, and buildings. Before she could see more they were touching down on the runway. With in a few minutes she had grabbed her carry-on bags and joined the line leading through the expandable tunnel into the airport. A short walk with the other arriving passengers brought her to a small crowd of people waiting behind the secured area to greet family and friends.

Once there she slowed down and then stopped, as she looked around for Wilma or Elsie. They were nowhere to be seen. She took a moment to look around at the huge room. Everything had the traditional Southwestern-style motif. A combination of Indian and Spanish designs. The support posts, the benches, and seats were in a southwestern pattern. There were Indian paintings on the wall. There were several shops sporting all kinds of gift items, newspapers, and magazines, a few restaurants and some vender’s carts offering tee-shirts that had New Mexico printed on them. Miranda decided that other than all the attention to southwestern design it was like any other airport. Most people were speaking English or a version there of, with a scattering here and there of the soft spoken, almost musical New Mexican version of Spanish.

The crowd of departing passengers and people meeting them dispersed until Miranda felt like the only one left, even thought there was now a line of passengers passing through the x-ray machines so they could get on departing flights. Except for one person. A cowboy. He leaned against a rough hewed, pine post, and eyed her with evident distaste. He wore a sweat-stained dark brown Stetson, a faded blue work shirt, worn jeans, and boots. His stare caused Miranda to fidget and look away. She decided he was purposely trying to be rude. She hoped all New Mexicans weren’t as ill-mannered as this man was. Although she had looked away, she couldn’t help but look back. Rude and insolent he might be, but there was something that drew her gaze back to him. His hat was pulled low over his forehead and he wore sunglasses on so she couldn’t see his eyes. He hadn’t shaved for a day or so and a course stubble of dark beard covered his checks with a full mustache above his upper lip that hid most of his mouth. So what was it wondered Miranda. She realized she was staring and looked away again.

Having taken a long look at all the passengers. Cody decided this must be the one. She did look a bit like Wilma Kane. She had on a light gray, cotton dress that came almost to her knees. The skirt emphasizing long legs clad in skin-tone hose. She had completed the outfit with a pair of black, short-heeled dress shoes, and a string of black beads plus matching earrings. Of course the fact that she was carrying two large, heavy, camera bags besides her purse helped him decide she was the person he was to meet.

In a soft western drawl he asked, “You Miranda Kane?”

“Yes,” answered Miranda too quickly. She returned his stare with one of her own, as she realized this churlish man looked a lot like Jesse Maclin.

“I’m Cody Maclin. I got the job of picking you up, and taking you back to the ranch.” Cody was disgusted at having been regulated to a go-fer. He knew he should have been back at the ranch trying to find out who was rustling El Gato beef. This wedding was taking him away from a lot of ranch work.

The way he spoke gave Miranda the impression he would have rather been doing anything than meeting her. She could tell he was looking her over from head to toe, but she couldn’t tell if he liked what he saw or not. Personally she didn’t care. Observing proper business manners she stuck out her hand in an offer to shake hands.

Cody straightened up from his nonchalant stance of leaning against the post and took her hand in his and gave it a quick shake, and then with a grin he simply held her hand for several moments longer than was necessary. Miranda almost gasped at the strength of his hold. He didn’t hurt her, but it was firm and warm, the palm of his hand rougher and more callused than any hand she had ever felt. For some reason a shiver seemed to run through her body. Pure masculinity flowed from the man such as she had never encountered before. At last he let her hand go, she felt a flush of heat rise to her face, and, flustered, she looked down at her purse to search for the baggage claim ticket so she could pick up her suitcases.

“Baggage claim is this way,” said Cody and took off at a long-legged walk. His western boots thudding gently on the carpet covered flooring.

Miranda tried to keep up with him, but with her shorter legs it was impossible. He stopped at the top of an escalator and waited for her to catch up.

Pausing to wait for her to catch up, Cody wondered at the aroused feeling he had. She was just another woman, anyway. He hadn’t had a feeling like this in a long time over any woman. Shorter than himself, but not too short, maybe about five foot five. She had thick brown hair done up in some kind of knot at the back of her head so he couldn’t tell how long it really was. Her eyes were a deep, blue-gray that seemed to take in everything at once. Eyes that were almost too big for her cute face. She was slim, but with curves where he liked to see curves. Curves the right size for her height and build. Yes, Cody decided as she caught up with him, he liked the basic look, even if she was a high-flutin’ eastern woman. But he had liked Angela, too, and look where that had got him. His eyes half closed and as Miranda came even with him he stepped onto the escalator, letting her follow. At the bottom of the escalator Cody looked back to make sure she was still behind him, then led the way to the baggage claim are. “Which ones?”

Miranda pointed at two smallish, red, soft-sided suitcases just coming into view on the revolving baggage carousal. Cody grabbed them and waited for her to point out more. When she didn’t he said, “Guess we’ll just have to wait for the others.

Miranda glanced at him. Did he think she had brought everything she owned to stay forever? “That is all,” she said, and turned to leave. “I’m only staying for a few days.”

He followed with a surprised look. Most women he knew wouldn’t have dared leave home with that little amount of luggage. Of course what did he know about women and traveling? His mom had never had a chance to travel much, and it had been his ex-wife who had to take five or six big heavy suitcases everywhere she went. He had noted that Wilma had a good collection of suitcases, but then she was moving to the ranch permanently, not just visiting like Miranda was.

Now taking the lead Miranda headed for the nearest exit door. “Where are you parked?” She looked at Cody. “You can drive a car, can’t you, Cowboy? You don’t expect me to ride a horse to your ranch, do you?”

Cody gave her a big grin. “Now, Ma’am, us cowboys, we ride our hoss’es everywhere. Do you know how to ride, Miss Kane? I sure hope so. You might have to learn real fast.”

Miranda realized Cody had thrown her sarcastic comment back at her. She hopped he didn’t really mean it about riding. She didn’t want to admit she knew almost nothing about horses. At a fast pace Miranda walked out the door, only to come to a halt when she was hit by the furnace-like heat of a typical Albuquerque afternoon in September. The hot air took her breath away. She had known the weather would be hot, but she hadn’t expected it to be this hot in the late summer. Determined not to let Cody see her consternation Miranda continued on.

Catching up with her, Cody gave a terse, “This way,” and headed for the parking lot. He didn’t tell her that a different door would have gone directly to the truck without having to be in the sun and heat.

They entered the shaded, three-story parking lot and it felt like a refuge to Miranda after the glare of the sun, but she felt her temper rising when Cody tossed her luggage into the back of what was obviously a work truck. The pickup was muddy on the lower part of the fenders and doors, and dusty all over. It, like Cody’s shirt, was a faded blue, but on the sides was a logo that stated El Gato Ranch with a cat’s face stenciled above it. Cody unlocked the passenger door. At least it seemed that the people at the ranch liked cats since she thought that was what El Gato meant in Spanish.

“I can’t see my mother agreeing to ride around in a filthy pickup like this,” muttered Miranda.

“You’re right,” agreed Cody, “which is why you lucked out and get to ride with me in this truck. Your mom, and her friend, and my Aunt Bell took the Jeep Cherokee to Santa Fe shopping. Some fancy store they heard about.” Cody wasn’t about to admit he could have brought his dad’s old classic Mustang. At least it would have been clean.

Miranda placed her camera bags on the seat and raised her foot setting it on the floor of the truck. She scooted aside some tools and a warn pair of boots, covered with mud. Or she hoped it was just mud. Her nose said it might be something she didn’t want to know about. Something she suspected was usually found in a barn.

Cody tried to keep a straight face at the expression on Miranda’s face, as she smelled the manure on the boots he had used in the barn and corral early this morning. Maybe it hadn’t been right to purposely step in some fresh stuff and then put his boots in the truck. It had been a childish thing to do, a prank that maybe his son, Davey, might have done, he thought sheepishly. With that thought he grabbed for the boots. As he did his hand brushed against Miranda’s leg, the nylon hose smooth and silky, and her calf muscle warm, and firm. Cody jerked back at the brief touch, as did Miranda.

“Sorry,” mumbled Cody, his face trying to turn red through his tan. He knew he was acting like a sixteen-year-old on his first date. He threw the manure-covered boots into the bed of the pickup. Cody shut the truck door and walked around to the other side. As he unlocked the driver’s door, he took a deep breath. It was going to be a long ride to the ranch.

Sitting in the truck, Miranda tried to ignore Cody as he went to the other side, opened the door and got in. How could you ignore a man like Cody? Acting like a rough-neck hick, when she now suspected he was anything but. She was angry with him, and at her mother, for getting her into a situation like this. She took a deep breath, then wished she hadn’t as the smell of manure washed over her again. She was sure she had seen a grin and a smirk at her disgust at having to ride in a pickup that smelled like horse manure. Or was it cow? Resigning herself to the ordeal, Miranda rolled down the window. The air outside the truck was as hot as that inside, but didn’t smell quite so bad.

Pretending he didn’t notice Miranda edging as far from him as she could get, Cody started the truck, made his way to the toll booth, paid the parking fee, and let the pickup ease out into the Albuquerque traffic. Cody flipped a switch on the dashboard and rolled up his window. “Air conditioner works better with the windows up,” he commented.

Miranda rolled up her window, thankful that the truck did have air conditioning. She hadn’t expected it. It might help make the trip a little bit more bearable. Neither of them spoke as Cody drove through the city and headed north on the interstate.

Albuquerque fell behind them, and Miranda looked out at heatwaves shimmering over dusty-tan hills covered with sagebrush and an occasional juniper tree. Surely this couldn’t be what had her mother so enthralled with New Mexico. The miles rolled by and they were in the outskirts of the historical town of Santa Fe. Miranda had plans to come back and spend a few hours visiting museums and taking pictures after the wedding. She was sure it wouldn’t take long, although Wilma had promised her there was lots to see. There certainly wasn’t much to interest her on the freeway or the few short blocks of the town they went through. In a few minutes they were back on a two-lane highway, again headed north, and slightly west.

Since Cody didn’t say anything, Miranda relaxed a bit, and sneaked a look at him. She had to admit he was good looking. Sort of. In a cowboy way like his dad, Jesse, was. Tall and well built, muscular, but not muscle bound. His body toughened by years of hard work outdoors on the ranch. As yet she hadn’t had a good luck at his face, since e wore the brown Stetson, and the sunglasses that hid his eyes. She saw a hint of a wide, firm mouth beneath the dark brown mustache, and a slightly crooked, but aquiline nose set in a well, tanned face, that ended with an almost square jaw.

Cody, too, was sneaking peaks at Miranda. She was cute, he decided. In a city girl way. And, boy, did she have good lookin’ legs. He almost whistled as her skirt slid up a few inches reveling softly rounded knees and a bit of thigh, but kept his mouth in a grim line, when he saw Miranda jerking the hem back down.

“Hungry?” asked Cody. “I could use a cup of coffee.”

At the mention of food Miranda’s stomach knotted up. She hadn’t realized she had skipped lunch and was hungry. She knew from experience that if she didn’t eat soon she would have a bad headache. Anytime she got to hungry she got one of her awful headaches. Especially in a stressful situation such as this was. How had she got into this, she wondered yet again. “Yes, I am.”

Slowing, Cody pulled into a small parking lot and turned off the engine. Miranda got out when Cody did and they entered the tiny café. The smell of hot, spicy, Mexican foot battered her sense of smell.

A young Spanish girl led them to a booth. Miranda sat on one side and Cody on the other. The girl placed menus in front of them and offered to bring drinks. Looking at the menu Miranda was dismayed at the array of unfamiliar foods listed. Enchiladas, tacos, burritos, sopillas, chili rellenos, frijoles, and tortillas. What were all those? What had happened to good, old fashioned hamburgers, or maybe a Salisbury steak?

The waitress came back, set Cody’s coffee and Miranda’s soda down, and looked expectantly at them, as she held a pencil and pad to take their order.

“Beef enchilada and a couple of tacos,” said Cody.

He and the waitress looked at Miranda. “Um – um. I’m not sure,” she stammered, scanning the menu again.

“The lady wants the same,” said Cody.

“Bueno,” said the girl and left. “Red or green?” she asked.

“Red,” answered Cody.

“I can order for myself,” stated Miranda.

“Sorry,” said Cody. “I’m sure you can back in Virginia, but you’re not too familiar with our native foods, are you? You’ll like this, I promise. The food here is great.”

“Hey, ------ Miss Kane,” he continued, “I think we, maybe, got off on the wrong foot. How ‘bout we start over. I’m Cody.”

Miranda had to admire Cody for his simple apology. She smiled. “Oh – sure. Why not. I’m Miranda.”

And the conversation came to a halt. They fiddled with their silverware and napkins. Cody added more sugar to his coffee, and then rolled the paper package the sugar came in into a tight cylinder. “Nice weather we’re having,” he finally said.

“Hot!” said Miranda quickly feeling her face flush.

“Yeah, it is that,” agreed Cody. “Uh, hot.” Hot in more ways than just the weather, he thought.

They were both glad when the food arrived moments later. Both plates were identical, and they, too, were hot. The waitress had taken the precaution of adding a second plate underneath. The food did smell good, so Miranda dug in as she saw Cody doing. But her first bite of the beef filled enchilada had her reaching for her water glass. The mixture of beef and tortilla was not only spicy but laced with a hot chili sauce.

“Red chili sauce,” said Cody, his mouth full. “Made with real Hatch chilies. Best there is.”

“Hatch?” whispered Miranda, as she sipped water.

“Hatch, New Mexico. Raise the best chili peppers there are. Little place down south of Albuquerque. Take another bite. You’ll see. We always get couple hundred pounds of peppers for the ranch, then roast ‘em ourselves.”

Tentatively Miranda tried another, smaller taste. Now that she was prepared for the fiery bite of the chili sauce, she decided it was good. She liked the taco even better as they weren’t quite as spicy hot. The lettuce, tomatoes and cheese helped to off-set the heat, and improve the pungent taste. She even managed to finish most of the helping of frijoles as the pinto beans were called.

Miranda realized that breakfast on her first flight had been skimpy and a long time ago. Now with a full stomach, she lingered over a cup of coffee, feeling herself relax, and her nagging headache was letting up. She and Cody even had a light conversation about different kinds of foods that they liked and disliked.

“We should be going,” said Cody, as he stood, put on his hat, and reached in a pants pocket to leave a generous tip on the table.

Shifting her eyes from the way his thin, faded jeans fit his well-muscled thighs and buttocks, Miranda stood, grabbed the check and headed for the cash register, pulling out her wallet.

“Allow me.” Cody pushed in front of her, took the check and handed it and several bills to the hostess, who smiled at him and returned his change.

They both returned to the blue pickup and continued north.

“How much farther?” asked Miranda.

“Hour or so. But now we’ll be in more mountainous country. No more big cities. Hope you don’t mind. I know you probably prefer to be in a city, since you’re from Baltimore.”

“I like the city, I guess,” said Miranda. “I haven’t spent much time in the country. I lived in Baltimore because my job was there. I moved back to Richmond this past week. I do remember a few camping trips when I was little and I liked them.”

“I remember that your mom did say you had moved.” Cody nodded his head. “Why did you move?”

“Uh – h.” Miranda hesitated. She hated to admit she had lost her job. But maybe he already knew. Wilma might have told him. “I was laid off and Mother said I could move back to her house, until I decide what I’ll do now.”

“Oh,” murmured Cody sorry he had asked. He hadn’t know that, and wasn’t sure what to say. “I’ve known people that were laid off from jobs but I’ve always worked on the ranch. Guess it must be real different back east. I been there but only for a few days at a time.”

“Yes,” agreed Miranda. “Very different.” She still wondered why Wilma wanted to come here. It seemed to be the exactly the opposite of their home in Virginia.

The two lane highway became a narrow, barely paved country road. There were few houses and most of them were in need of repairs. What if the El Gato Ranch was just a small, run-down farm like the ones they were passing? From the way Jesse and Wilma had talked it was a large, thriving cattle ranch. But then what did her mother know about ranches, and Jesse could have been all talk and brag.

At least there were more trees now. She even saw a small stream once, and the temperature didn’t seem quite as warm.

The pickup began to slow and Cody turned onto an even narrower road, with a barbed wire fence on either side. It was paved but there were ragged edges to the pavement, with lots of potholes and Miranda doubted if two vehicles could pass each other. When another pickup approached from the other way, Miranda expected Cody to slow and move over so they could pass, but he continued at the same speed, as did the other truck. They passed safely, and Cody raised a hand in greeting, as did the other driver.

“Al Martinez, one of our neighbors,” said Cody, as he drove on.

“Oh,” was all Miranda could say as she took in a shaky breath. She hoped she wouldn’t have to drive any of these narrow back roads while she was here.

The trees became thicker. Evergreens and golden aspen forests intermixed with large, and small meadows with thick brown grass growing in them. Along the roadside were occasional clumps of purple asters and wild sunflowers. One bunch was especially pretty and Miranda had a thought for stopping and taking some photos, but didn’t know what Cody would think of someone who was impulsive for taking pictures of everything she saw. Besides she wanted to get to the ranch and see Wilma.

Slowing again, Cody turned onto another road. This one with no paving, just two dirt tracks. They went under two, tall, upright posts with a wooden sign hanging on a chain between them. El Gato Ranch was carved and burned into the sign, with the same relief of the cat’s face on either side. The same as on the truck’s door.

“Am I correct that El Gato means The Cat,” asked Miranda.

“It’s Spanish for The Cat,” explained Cody. “The Maclin’s are confirmed cat lovers. Starting with my great-grandma, who named the ranch. And including myself.”

“Oh,” whispered Miranda. “I have a cat. Her name is Crystal.” Her own cat was the only one she knew anything about. Crystal had been a stray kitten given to her by her friends, Henry and Betty. She would never have thought about getting a cat on her own, but they had insisted she needed a pet. They had two cats of their own. She had always thought that cats were small, sneaky, little mammals that sat on fences and squalled at night. But Crystal had wiggled and purred her way into Miranda’s heart, and she knew she would never be happy without her little white cat. But Wilma had never seemed to be in favor of her pet. Did Wilma know about the Maclin’s liking for cats? Her mother had never encouraged Miranda to like pets, although she did remember having a dog when she was small.

Another half a mile down the dirt road they dropped down in a swell, then into a meadow dotted with red cattle with white faces that Cody called Herefords. Finally they rumbled across a wooden ridge that spanned a creek. They went on up the road a few hundred yards, through a section of trees. Now Miranda could make out several large barns, some sheds, corrals, and a couple of log cabins, and trailer homes. Horses and cows were scattered over the pastures. She had expected a large home, but didn’t see it. Did Jesse live in one of the small cabins?

Cody guided the pickup on past the cabins and headed for another stand of trees. It was then that Miranda saw the Maclin home. She had heard a brief description from Jesse but she was still expecting a fancy house so she was unprepared for the large log home, set amongst a background of huge spruce, aspen and Ponderosa pine. The yard wasn’t a yard in the sense of a small plot of landscaped ground. It reminded her of a small park. Native grasses and flowers spread out among the trees. It was breathtakingly simple and beautiful. In one corner two men were setting up chairs in rows. It would be perfect for a wedding. She now understood why Wilma had wanted to have the wedding at the ranch.

Taking a second look at the house, she decided it had seen several generations of Maclins. It had an old, weather-beaten look, but it had been lovingly cared for over the years, and still looked strong and substantial enough to house several more generations to come. There was a well-worn path leading up to the front porch. Half whiskey barrels were placed at various spots in front of the house, and were filled with colorful pansies, geraniums, and alyssum. At one end of the porch a honeysuckle climbed a trellis giving shade to a two-seater glider swing. A huge picture window looked out on the scenic view and Miranda could see Wilma, and Elsie standing inside waving at her.

A black and white cat sat on one of the three steps going up to the porch. “Is that El Gato?” asked Miranda.

“Just one of many,” answered Cody. “My mother always said we never had enough cats.”

Bypassing the house, Cody stopped by a large garage where other vehicles were parked. “Well, this is it,” he muttered as he got out. He reached in the back for Miranda’s bags. She got out and gathered up her camera equipment and followed him to the back of the house. She eased by as a friendly collie mix came at her with tongue lolling. She patted it tentatively on top of the head and then followed Cody.

They entered a large screened in porch and then a big country kitchen. There were very modern appliances mixed with an old fashioned sink, complete with a hand pump, and a wood cookstove. A man, standing at the stove, stirring something in a pot, nodded at them, and said “Howdy.” She barely had time to glance around as Cody led her into a formal dining room and on into a huge living room. A rock fireplace dominated one wall and the picture window looked out and across the front yard and down toward the barns, corrals, and on across the pastures.

There was a cluster of leather upholstered chairs and sofas grouped in front of the window and another in front of the fireplace, with lots of floor space in between. The floor was made of thick, oak slats with bright, cheerful Indian style rugs scattered over it.

There were several coffee and end tables set about the room that to Miranda’s unpracticed eye, looked to be handmade. She wondered if someone at the ranch was the craftsman, then remembered Jesse had mentioned woodworking was his hobby. They were of the southwest style with the zig-zag designs cut into the edges. The largest table was a big slab of cedar wood set on a big juniper stump. It sat in front of a sofa that looked out the window. It had been buffed and polished until you could easily count each of the red cedar rings. A large sculpture of a mountain lion set on it. Next to the sculpture lay a small Siamese cat. It flicked its tail and she realized it was real.

Around the table set Jesse, Wilma, Elsie and two other women. “It’s time you got here,” said Elsie, in her loud, rough voice. “You need to talk some sense into your mother.”

Jesse cut in to make introductions. “Miranda, this is my sister, Bell,” he indicated a woman about his and Wilma’s age. “And her daughter, Tammy.” Tammy looked to be just older than Miranda. She wondered just how many other Maclin’s she would have to meet. Lots of them she assumed.

As usual Elsie was bond to be heard. Miranda was fond of Elsie, but she could be trying. “You have to talk to Wilma, Miranda. She’s decided against wearing that beautiful blue, silk suit we picked out for the wedding.” Miranda noticed she emphasized ‘we’. “She wants to wear denim. Denim. To her wedding. Did you ever hear of such a thing? Well, I never. And I can’t talk her out of it. You’ll have to, Miranda. She’s your mother.”

Bell stood up. “I’m glad to meet you, Miranda. We really like your mom. And I think that denim skirt is really nice. If it's what Wilma wants, she should wear it.”

“I’m not getting into this,” said Tammy. “Glad you’re here, Miranda, but I have to run. The kids will be home soon.” She headed for the back door. “Mom, you coming?”

Bell followed her daughter, stopping to pat her brother on the arm. “Don’t let ‘em run you down, Jesse.”

“Please, Elsie, stop pestering me,” said Wilma, as she gave Miranda a hug. “I’ll wear what I want to wear, and no one, not even Miranda, will change my mind.”

Cody, who had been silently standing by decided it was time for him to leave, also. He didn’t want to get into this conversation, either. “I got work to do,” he announced and turned to leave.

“Me, too,” said Jesse, as he hastily grabbed his hat off a hat rack of elk antlers and followed Cody.

**********

Somehow Miranda made it through the next two days. Now she watched as the last of the guests arrived, and filtered over to be seated in the chairs set out for the wedding. It was a small group by most standards. She and Elsie were the only family Wilma had present. Wilma’s sisters had told her she was crazy and refused to come. The Kane’s had expressed it even more bluntly. That had been expected. But Miranda’s brother, Kyle, a Captain in the Navy had made her angry when at the last moment he had called to say he couldn’t get leave to come. He and his family were stationed in Hawaii. They said the plane fare for the family would be too much. Miranda was sure it would have been expensive for all five of them, but she had hoped Kyle, at least, would have come. Miranda wondered if he had really tried to get leave time from the Navy or not. Sometimes there was a side to her brother she didn't like. He had sent a large flower arrangement that now dominated a special place under a huge aspen tree.

Most of Jesse’s family were there. His sister, Bell, had really been a big help with all the wedding arrangements. She and Wilma had become friends, which didn’t set well with Elsie, of course. Bell had pretty much taken over, but she had been more than willing to abide by Wilma and Jesse's wishes and always knew exactly where to get everything that was needed. Flowers, chairs, a caterer that would come all the way out to the ranch, and cases of champagne.

Even the weather seemed to be cooperating. It had turned a lot cooler. In fact there had been a light freeze the night before, and now some of the wild flowers looked a bit frazzled. Miranda was finding the weather in New Mexico could be as changeable as the wind. Right now she hoped the wind didn’t come up, and blow as it had yesterday.

Standing under the huge aspen that had the flower arrangement at its base was Jesse, and beside him as best man, was his brother, Morgan. There was no minister for the ceremony, which was one of the things that had made Wilma’s family unhappy. Instead Jesse’s good friend, Judge Andrew Ringgold was to do the ceremony. He stood with Jesse and Morgan waiting for Wilma to make her entrance.

The men all had on dark, well cut and tailored western suits, with highly polished boots. At least the groom and best man had left their hats off, thought Miranda. She had a glimpse of Cody earlier, along with his son, Davey. She didn’t want to admit it, but he was really handsome in a rugged sort of way. She had seen Cody only a few times since she had arrived, and it had always been in a family setting with lots of people around. Otherwise he had seemed very busy taking care of ranch business.

Miranda had taken the photos of quite a few different weddings, but she would never have dreamed that she would be doing the photos of her own mother’s wedding. Her mother, Wilma, thought Miranda, was really getting married. Wilma, who’s name had been changed to Billie by the Maclin clan. She smiled at the thought of the scene in the bedroom yesterday.. It had been just her, Wilma, and Elsie. Elsie had whispered in her loud voice of how Jesse and his family were calling her friend, Wilma, by the nickname, Billie. Elsie had seemed horrified, but Miranda’s mom had smiled and said. “I like it.”Wilma had explained how it was the Maclin tradition to be named after western heroes, or country singers, or maybe western actors. Jesse had been named after Jesse James, Morgan after Morgan Earp, Cody after Buffalo Bill Cody, Bell after Bell Starr, Davey after Davey Crocket, and so on.

“And I guess you’re named after Billy, the Kid,” said Miranda, causing her, Wilma, and Elsie to break out laughing.

The light, soft sound of popular western love songs cut off and the traditional wedding march began. Everyone turned to watch. First came the youngest Maclin, Suzy, one of Morgan’s granddaughters, which made her Jesse's great-granddaughter, in a cute pink dress, tossing flower petals onto the trail already covered with the first of the aspen leaves to turn gold and come down. She was flanked by Tammy’s two teenage daughters, Patsy, and Maybell, dressed in pink, like their little cousin. Then there was Elsie, as the matron of honor, with Wilma behind her.

Miranda could tell how excited and proud she was. She had exchanged the blue silk suit for a long denim, western style skirt in a very light, blue color. She wore a silk blouse in ivory, again western cut, covered in lace and ruffles. She had on white sandals, since Elsie had convinced her not to wear boots. A ring of pink rosebuds and baby’s breath flowers were woven into her hair, and she carried matching flowers in a small bouquet. She did indeed look like a cowboy’s bride-to-be.

Knowing her mother expected it of her daughter, who had devoted her life to staring into a camera lens, Miranda raised her camera and began to snap shots. She had wanted to look nice for the wedding, too, but had opted for a light gray pair of slacks and matching jacket, with a lighter gray ruffled blouse under it. She knew it would be a better style for taking photos in.

In a few moments the vows had been said, rings exchanged, and Jesse had kissed his lovely bride, making her Mrs. Jesse Maclin. Even nature seemed to approve of the joining as a slight breeze fluttered through the trees sending a new group of golden aspen leaves to dance and swirl over the bride and groom.

**********

Chapter 2

Miranda jerked back awake as the pickup hit another rut in the rough, dirt road.

“You all right?” asked Cody.

“Still half asleep,” admitted Miranda, as she rubbed at her eyes.

“Yeah, it was a late night, and I’m sure a city gal like you isn’t used to getting up this early.”

Miranda glared at Cody’s hint of an insult at her ability to get up and out in the early morning. "I’ll have you know I’ve had lots of experience with getting up early. I love to take photos of sunrises – and sunsets. But you have to admit yesterday wasn’t your average day.”

Cody chuckled. “That’s for sure.”

After the wedding the reception had taken place under a large awning on the ranch yard. Jesse and Wilma had cut a huge cake, opened piles of wedding gifts and then presided over an early supper that had been served by the caterers. A local band had played popular songs, and the guests had danced enthusiastically for a couple of hours. Miranda had only danced a few steps with Jesse and Morgan, and then Cody had claimed her for the last waltz. They had danced stiffly and at arms length as if it was a duty they had to perform at the wedding. Still Miranda could sense the sexuality Cody unknowingly emitted. A big man, he was ruggedly handsome, and even a fairly good dancer, but he was very cool and aloof toward her. Miranda could sense there was something about her that he was trying to stay away from. It made her nervous and apprehensive when she was around him.

At the wedding Miranda had taken rolls and rolls of pictures. It had been the perfect setting for taking photos of all the guests with the ranch house, and it’s beautiful, naturally landscaped yard as a background. Knowing it was a big family get-together as well as the wedding, she was sure photos of family groups would be appreciated so she made sure to get as many as possible. Bell and her family, Morgan and his family, groups of dressed up, and embarrassed cowboys from the El Gato ranch as well as others. She had even been able to persuade Jesse, Cody, and Davey to pose for a three generation family photo. She hoped at least a few came out good. She planned to give them go the bride and groom as a wedding gift.

Jesse and Wilma had then made their departure amid yells of good wishes and the clamor of tin cans tired behind the pickup they left in. They had refused to let anyone know where they were going, but had left orders for Smitty, the cook, and Jesse’s friend, to pick up the truck at the airport in two days. Miranda would have liked to have known where they were going but decided it would spoil the excitement and adventure for the newlyweds.

Sometime during the evening the subject of her photography had come up. Jesse had said she could get some great pictures on the ranch and of New Mexico while she was here. Maybe even some of the wildlife. That very thought had crossed Miranda’s mind briefly over the past few days while preparing for the wedding, but she hadn’t wanted to inconvenience anyone, as she knew she would need someone to show her around. Somehow she had found herself agreeing to the suggestion that Cody guide her, even though she could tell that he was only doing it because Jesse and his family had asked him to.

Now, here they were bouncing down this so-called road with the sun just starting to peak over that distant eastern mountain top. Miranda knew which direction had to be east since the sun was coming up there, but otherwise she was completely turned around. She was sure it wouldn’t take much for her to get totally lost in the high mountain country.

“We’ll stop soon, and have a cup of Smitty’s coffee. It’ll get you going. Smitty’s coffee is strong enough to float horseshoes in.”

“So I’ve found out over the past few days.” It had been Smitty’s coffee and good cooking that had kept everyone going in the days before the wedding.. The old cowboy, turned cook, sure did know how to cook good filling meals, light snacks, and baked delicious breads, cookies and cakes.

It was still dark enough that Miranda couldn’t see much of the country they were driving through. There were shadowy outlines of rock ridges and cliffs, open meadows, and scattered pine trees. There was the occasional cow lying or standing by the road, blinking long-lashed eyes at their passing. Cody slowed to keep from hitting a big calf, startled out of its sleep that jumped up and raced up the road in front of them for about fifty feet before it darted to the side.

As the sun continued to rise, Miranda was able to see things better. A jackrabbit ran across in front of them to disappear into the tall grass. A barbed wire fence appeared, and Cody stopped. He got out, flipped up the wire loop on a post, that held the gate closed, dragged the gate across the road, letting the wire and post gate drop on the other side. Returning to the truck he drove through the now open gate, then stopped again, got out and closed the gate.

As they continued on, the road narrowed as it wound and twisted. Steep cliff walls seemed to be closing in on them. On one side a small rivulet trickled along beside the road. It was crowded by large boulders and trees. Another mile and a few more turns and the cliff walls spread out allowing Miranda a glimpse of a small valley. Stands of aspen were scattered in clumps over the large meadow, their golden leaves catching the early morning sun, and fluttering in the slight breeze, while their white trunks appeared ghostly.

“Elk!” Cody eased the truck to a stop under three huge Ponderosa pine. “There,” he whispered as he pointed. “To your right. Near that big, lone aspen. You got your camera?”

Miranda stared. What was she supposed to see? “Wha – t?” She reached for the camera she had laid on the seat between them.

“Keep your voice down.” She could barely hear his whisper. “Elk. A couple of cows and their calves.”

A moment later Miranda saw them. “I see them,” she squeaked breathlessly, as she lifted her camera and began shooting.

The large deer-like creatures faced the truck, undecided whether or not to be afraid. One stomped a front hoof and snorted softly. Finally deciding it was nothing to be frightened of, they dropped their heads to graze.

“More,” breathed Cody. He tapped Miranda on the shoulder to get her attention, and pointed to a scattered line of elk slowly making their way out of the tall trees on the other side of the valley. Large calves, born in the spring, gambled in play. Miranda noticed that some of the calves still had a few of their baby spots.

She was delighted at the peaceful scene and kept snapping her camera. She stopped once to change film in her old 35 mm camera, then changed to her fancy digital camera. As she raised her camera to take more photos she jumped in wonder when a strange, squealing scream split the stillness. “What was that?”

“Bull,” said Cody. “There’s a couple of them mixed with the others, but the one bugling is still out of sight.”

It hadn’t registered with Miranda that the elk with antlers on their heads were the males.

“Their in the rut,” said Cody.

“The – what?”

“It’s breeding season. There he is. Look at that rack,” whispered Cody in awe, as he referred to the large set of antlers.

A monster of a bull elk stepped proudly out of the trees and threw up his head. The shrill bugling whistle pierced the early morning quiet again. The sun glittered off the huge rack of antlers adorning the animal’s head. Miranda wondered how he could hold up something that looked that heavy.

From across the meadow came the sound of pounding hooves. One of the smaller bulls charged out and stopped a couple of hundred feet from the intruder. He, too, bugled a challenge.

The larger elk grunted an answer as he closed the distance between them. He lowered his head threateningly and snorted. The smaller bull did the same and in a flash they were charging each other. They came together with a crash and rattle of horns and just as quickly backed off. For several long minutes they postured and threatened each other, pawing at the ground, tearing up the earth and grasses. They made several rushes at each other, but there was no serious fighting. Then as if some one had rung a bell to end the round, the smaller bull backed off and stalked off across the meadow.

Moments later there was a slight breeze shifting through the trees. It drifted across the truck where Cody and Miranda sat watching the drama before them, and on to where the elk grazed. Heads came up, hooves stamped, and as one the whole herd turned and flowed back into the trees and out of sight.

Miranda sat still for another long minute and was quiet sure she had dreamed the whole thing.

“Did you get pictures?” asked Cody, a touch of excitement coming into his voice. He had seen similar scenes played out many times before, and knew he would again, but he knew Miranda hadn’t. Suddenly it was terribly important that she should have been able to see it and catch it on film.

For a moment Miranda didn’t answer. Then she realized he had asked a question. “Y – yes, I’m sure I did. Parts of it anyway. Oh, Cody, that was wonderful. But - but how did you know they would be here?”

“I didn’t. This was just dumb luck. Usually to see something like that you have to spend days and weeks hunting and waiting in blinds and still you might not catch more than a glimpse of an elk disappearing into the brush.” Sometime during the past few minutes Cody had moved across the truck seat closer to Miranda. Now, without thinking of what he was doing, he reached his right arm around her and gave her a quick hug. “That was quite a sight, wasn’t it?”

Excitement glinting in her blue eyes, Miranda returned his hug, but then realized what she was doing and pulled back. “Yes, it was,” she answered huskily, as the warmth from his strong arm filtered through her coat and shirt.

The moment was gone. Cody pulled back quickly, when he, too, realized he had hugged her, and he slid back to the driver’s side of the truck. He was just supposed to be her guide for the day. He started the engine. “Best find that place to have breakfast,” he muttered.

Miranda didn’t answer as she rewound the roll of film in the 35 mm, removed it from the camera, and dropped in another. She liked her digital camera for its ease of use, but preferred to use the older camera, too.

They stopped by a small creek to have a break and eat. Cody lowered the tailgate to the pickup and then opened a plastic container to get out napkins, forks, and cups. From an insulated bag, he pulled out still warm breakfast burritos. Miranda couldn’t believe how delicious they were with a cup of Smitty’s famous coffee. Smitty had made the burritos for them just before they had left for the days outing. He had filled the tortillas with a mixture of scrambled eggs, cooked and diced potatoes, chili sauce, and chopped jalapino peppers. After the past few days, Miranda was becoming used to the spicy, Mexican food that seemed to dominate every meal.

Within minutes of their arrival a pair of gray camp-robber jays made an appearance looking for what they could steal. Miranda was delighted with the pesky birds. They became the new topic for her camera, and Cody was persuaded to lure the birds closer with a bag of crackers. The birds were soon joined by a trio of chipmunks.

Even better, to Miranda’s way of thinking, were a few shots she managed to catch of Cody when he was busy trying to coach the jays into the right position for pictures. Miranda thought Cody was a great photographic subject. Right now he was very unconscious of the fact so that his expressions, masculinity, and virility came out perfectly. His broad brimmed, western hat sat at a rakish angle that still allowed her to catch sight of his deep, dark, brown eyes, with a sparkle in them at the antics of the birds, and small rodents. A wide smile that split his face was emphasized by his mustache, and strong, white teeth. Wavy brown hair, with just a little gray mixed in, peaked out from under the back of his hat, while a stray lock fell out and across his forehead. He wore a green checked, flannel shirt with a denim jacket and denim jeans that accentuated the muscles in his chest, arms, and legs. Today he wore a pair of lace-up hiking boots instead of the usual cowboy boots.

As she watched him through the camera lens, Miranda decided Cody really was a good looking man. Not handsome. He was too out-doorsey – too rugged – too weather-beaten, even at his forty odd years, to ever be considered handsome. Miranda definitely liked what she saw. All six foot, two inches, and one hundred and ninety pounds of sexy man.

Cody was keeping an eye on Miranda as he tried to lure the jays and chipmunks to different places for the camera. He realized she was taking as many photos of him as she was of the wildlife. Tossing a last handful of bread crumbs to the stripped chipmunks, he stood tall and thumbed his hat back. Miranda quickly caught the pose. Click. Click.

“Lady, you keep takin’ them pictures of me, you’re gonna break that camera.”

Miranda giggled. “I’ve heard that one a lot of times and so far it’s never happened. But – just to let you know –if you break this one, I have another.”

Cody had a fleeting thought of how much he liked to hear Miranda laugh her little girl giggle. Being out like this, just the two of them, with him showing her the ranch, the animals, and the breathtaking scenery seemed to be breaking the wall of ice that had risen between them since they had met. Miranda was doing what came natural, taking pictures, and Cody couldn’t help letting his love of the ranch be known. Now neither of them had to try and influence each other or anyone else. They could each be their true self and it was bringing an unexpected liking for each other. “Well, ma’am, I’ll be more careful and try not to break anything.”

Not break anything, thought Miranda. She would have bet that Cody had broke his share of girl’s hearts over the years. She shut that thought off quickly. She knew all about how a man could break a woman’s heart. It had happened the first time to her when she was just out of college, working her first job. He had turned out to be married. Then there had been her ex-husband. And Kevin. But enough thoughts about that subject. What was past was past, and she wasn’t about to let herself ever fall in love with any man, ever again.

“Miranda, that camera’s a lot more complicated looking than any of the point and shot digitals I’ve ever used Show me how it works.”

Miranda handed Cody the camera, and instructed him to look through the viewfinder eye piece, and then how to adjust the focal point and F Stop. “It’s really easy and this one’s even easier as it has an automatic light meter, frame advance, and rewind. Go ahead and try it.”

Cody fiddled with the 35 mm camera and focused on a distant mountain view, then pressed the shutter control button, taking a photo. “Okay, that was easy. Now Miranda, let me take some of you.”

“Oh, no, Cody. I don’t take good pictures.”

“I doubt if I do either. In front of the camera, or behind it,” insisted Cody. “Surely you want some with you in them to show to your friends back east.” Cody quickly snapped a shot of Miranda. “Sit on that log over there. That’s a good view behind you. Let me practice.”

“Oh, all right but I don’t have any makeup – or -.”

“Don’t matter,” said Cody. “You’re pretty without makeup.” He hadn’t planned to say that. The words just came out. And he realized it was true. He liked the way Miranda looked. Clean and fresh. Her light brown hair hung down her back, pulled into one strand and fastened in a ponytail, with a pink, oversized hair band. She wore a white, ball cap, but removed it when he asked her to, so he could see her face. She decided to let her hair hang loose, also, and undid the ponytail shaking her head a bit to settle her hair better. Her blue eyes were clear and bright and laughed with her. She had worn a white tee shirt under a light blue, fleece shirt, with a dark blue, nylon, down filled vest. She, too, wore blue jeans that fit her long legs smoothly, and a pair of hiking boots she had borrowed from her mom. Now, as the sun warmed the day, she removed the vest and unbuttoned the fleece shirt allowing Cody a hint of how she filled out the tee shirt.

Miranda posed by the log, both standing beside it and sitting on it. Cody took half a dozen frames and the camera stopped. “I think I’m out of film,” he said.

“Okay, I’ve got more.” Miranda returned to the truck, got a fresh roll of film. “Rewind that one.”

Cody twisted the camera trying to figure out how to rewind the film. “How?” He stepped closer to her.

She lightly touched a tiny button. “Push that,” she said, and as she withdrew her hand, it brushed against his hand. They both jumped at the contact. Both felt the heat that seemed to surge between them. Both tried to ignore it, while the camera made a soft whirring noise as it rewound. When it quite, Miranda pointed at another button, making sure not to touch Cody this time. “That opens the back.” Cody opened the camera. “Take out the film cartridge.”

Cody did as told and when he gave the cartridge to her, he couldn’t resist making sure their hands came in contact again. It was instinctive. Why should he want to get closer to this city woman? She would only be here for a short time, and then would go back to that city she came from. Why should he care? But for some reason he couldn’t fathom he did care. As he took the new roll from her, he hesitated and held her hand for a couple of seconds longer than necessary. “Show me how to put it in.” He looked directly into her eyes, daring her with unspoken words.

The tension between them throbbed. Emotions were high, but both of them were wary of each other. Both Cody and Miranda had thoughts that twisted and spun around them. What were they doing, playing these kind of games at their age? Miranda took the dare. How could she not. She felt a moment of panic. Striving for control, she pushed a lock of loose hair back with a nervous hand. She hoped her trembling didn’t show. She leaned in closer to him, as they cradled the camera between them. “Slide the film in here.” She spoke in a low voice. “Pull the end of the film out and across the camera and stick the end in one of those slots on that wheel. Now wind the film about two frames. Close the back, and wind one more frame.” Their heads were now very close together. Miranda shivered slightly, as if chilled, but still felt flushed, as she and Cody rubbed shoulders. Cody caught a whiff of her light perfume. Miranda stepped back. She had to get farther from this man. He was making her feel things she had always tried to avoid. “Take one shot. Of anything. Because it may or may not come out.”

Cody, too was experiencing feelings he hadn’t had or wanted in a long, long time, and he didn’t think he wanted to encourage them. He snapped the one quick shot out across the creek and trees, then handed the camera to Miranda. “Maybe we should be going, if you want to see more of the country."

“Yes,” said Miranda. “Your right. We better go.”