Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [12]
“It was made by the Edison Company and ran less than a minute,” Kerney said. “In 1912 D. W. Griffith filmed A Pueblo Legend with Mary Pickford at the Isleta Pueblo south of Albuquerque, and later Tom Mix, the early cowboy movie star, made twenty-five movies up in Las Vegas.”
“Where did you learn all this?” Sara asked.
“In a book I’m reading on New Mexico filmmaking.”
“Why the sudden interest in movies?”
Kerney slowed to let a semitruck pass. “I’ve been asked to serve as a technical advisor on a movie to be shot here starting in September.”
“Is it a shoot-’em-up or a cop caper?” Sara asked.
“A bit of both.”
“How did this happen to land in your lap?”
“By way of an old boyhood acquaintance,” Kerney replied.
He gave Sara the lowdown on Johnny Jordan and the movie. He told her that Dale Jennings had signed on to be a wrangler and planned to bring Barbara and the girls with him. The more he talked about the idea the more animated he became, particularly when he described the cattle drive and the rodeo that would be filmed in the Bootheel. He was grinning from ear to ear when he finished.
“You sound like you want to do it.”
“Not without you and Patrick,” Kerney said as he signaled his turn off the highway onto the ranch road.
“Let’s talk about it some more.”
Soon the ranch house came into view. Tucked into a saddleback ridge, it looked out on the Galisteo Basin, with the Ortiz and Sandia Mountains in the distance. Sara sighed as the car climbed the long hill. It was paradise, and the thought of spending a month at the ranch before heading off to Turkey was more than appealing to her. But the movie idea did sound like it could be a fun adventure, and Kerney was clearly drawn to it.
“There’s one more thing,” Kerney said as he pulled to a stop outside the house.
Sara gazed at the pasture and the horse barn across the field from the house. Four geldings were in the paddock, their heads up, ears forward, alerted by the sound of the car. To the west the sun was low, behind a thin bank of clouds, spreading a pink glow over the Jemez Mountains.
“What’s that?” she asked as she got out of the car and slipped on her jacket to cut the chill of the April wind.
“The mayor told me privately that he doesn’t plan to run for reelection next March. That means I’ll probably be out of a job in less than a year.”
Sara held back a smile as she unstrapped Patrick from the toddler seat and woke him up. Was it possible that both of her major concerns could be resolved within a matter of months? Would he be willing to resign his position before the municipal election and go with her on her next duty assignment? They could arrange for a caretaker to look after the ranch in their absence.
Kerney was a rich man by way of an unexpected inheritance several years back from an old family friend. He served as police chief not for the money, but because it had been the job he’d always wanted. Now that it would be ending, they could finally start living as a family, see a bit of the world together. Nothing would make Sara happier.
Kerney popped open the trunk and took out the luggage. “Did you hear what I said?”
Sara nodded, took Patrick out of his seat, put him on the ground, and bundled him into his warm coat. “Are you ready to retire?”
“It’s about that time,” Kerney said, looking stoical.
Patrick scooted away in the direction of the geldings in the paddock. “Can I go riding now?” he called. “With Daddy?”
Sara caught up to him and took him by the hand. “In the morning, young man.”
“Can I give the horses some biscuits?” Patrick pleaded, trying to tug Sara along.
“Yes, you can.” She turned back toward Kerney as Patrick led her away. “Watching how a film gets made and getting to play cowboy might be fun.”
Kerney smiled. “That’s what I think.”
“You come see the horses, too, Daddy,” Patrick called over his shoulder.
Kerney dropped the luggage and joined his family. Together, the threesome walked hand-in-hand toward the horses at the fence awaiting their arrival, heads bobbing in anticipation.
Chapter Two
June brought hot, dry