Palomino (1981)

by Steel, Danielle

  The crowd around her was almost overwhelming, the noise level, the bodies, the confusion. After five months on the ranch she had forgotten what it was like to deal with that many people, to move as quickly as they were moving. She felt totally devoured by the press of people around her as she made her way to the baggage-claim area, feeling like a tourist in her own town and looking appropriately bewildered. There was of course, not a single available porter, there were hundreds of people waiting for taxis, and when she finally got one, she had to share it with two Japanese tourists and a plastics salesman from Detroit. When he asked her where she had come from, she was almost too tired to answer, but finally murmured something about California.

  You an actress? He seemed intrigued as he looked her over, taking in the shining blond hair and the deep tan. But Sam was quick to shake her head as she looked absentmindedly out the window.

  No, a ranch hand.

  A ranch hand? He stared at her in open disbelief and she turned to look at him with a tired smile. This your first time in the big city? He looked hopeful but she shook her head and did whatever she could to discourage the conversation after that. The two Japanese tourists were chatting animatedly in their own language, and the driver spoke only in curses, darting between lanes of traffic. It was an appropriate reentry into her city, and as they crossed the bridge from Queens into Manhattan, she looked at the skyline and suddenly wanted to cry. She didn't want to see the Empire State Building and the U.N. and all the other buildings. She wanted to see the big house, the barn, the beautiful redwood trees, and that vast expanse of blue sky. Pretty, isn't it? The perspiring plastics salesman from Detroit moved closer, and Sam only shook her head and edged closer to the door next to where she sat.

  No, not really. Not after what I've seen lately. She eyed him angrily, as though her return to New York were all his fault. He eyed one of the Japanese girls after that, but she only giggled and went on chattering in Japanese with her friend.

  Mercifully the driver dropped Sam off first, and she stood for a long moment on the sidewalk, staring at her house, suddenly afraid to go in, sorry she'd come home, and longing more painfully for Tate than she ever had. What in hell was she doing here in this strange town, all alone, surrounded by all these people, going back to the apartment she had lived in with John? All she wanted was to go back to California, to find Tate, to live and work on the ranch. Why couldn't she have that? Was it so much to ask? She wondered as she unlocked the front door and struggled up the stairs with her bags. No twelve-hour day in the saddle had exhausted her as this one had, with a five-hour plane trip, two meals, a movie, and the emotional shock of coming back to New York. Groaning under the weight of her bags, she dropped them next to her front door on the landing, hunted for her key, fitted it in the lock, and shoved open the front door. The place smelled like the inside of a vacuum cleaner as she'stepped inside. It was all there, where she had left it, looking vacant and unloved, and different somehow, as though while she'd been gone all the furniture had subtly altered, shrunken or grown or only slightly changed color. Nothing looked exactly the same as it had. Yet it was, every bit of it, just as it had been when she and John had lived there. She felt like an intruder now, or a ghost returning to a scene from her past.

  Hello? She wasn't even sure why she said it, but when no one answered, she closed the front door and sat down on a chair with a sigh, and then as she looked around, the sobs overtook her, her shoulders shook, and she dropped her face into her hands.

  The phone rang insistently twenty minutes later, and she sniffed and blew her nose in a handkerchief and answered the phone, not even sure why she did. After all this time it was obviously going to be a wrong number, unless it was Harvey or Charlie. They were the only two people in New York who knew that she was coming back.

  Yes?

  Sam?

  No. She gave a half-smile through her tears. It's a burglar.

  Burglars don't cry, silly. It was'Charlie.

  Sure they do. There's ho color TV here to rip off.

  Come on over to our place, I'll give you mine.

  I don't want it. And then slowly the tears began flowing again, she sniffed loudly and closed her eyes as she tried to catch her breath. Sorry, Charlie. I guess I'm not exactly thrilled to be home.

  Sounds like it. So? Why'd you come back? He sounded matter-of-fact as he said it.

  Are you crazy? You and Harvey have been threatening murder and mayhem for the last six weeks, and you want to know why I'm here?

  Okay, so come help us out with your crazy client and then go back. For good, if that's what you want. Charlie's approach to life was always so damn practical.

  It's not that simple.

  Why not? Look, Sam, life is very short and can be very sweet if you let it. You're a big girl, you're free now, you should be able to live wherever you want to. If what you want is to run around with a bunch of horses for the rest of your life, then go do it.

  That simple, huh?

  Sure. Why not? Tell you what, why don't you just try it out here for a while, kind of like a tourist, see how it feels to you after a couple of months, and if you're not happy ' hell, Sam, you can always split.

  You make it all sound so easy.

  That's how it should be. In any case, pretty lady, welcome back. Even if you don't want to be here, we're happy as hell to have you around.

  Thanks, love. How's Mellie?

  Fat, but pretty. The baby's due in another two months, and this one's a girl, I just know it.

  Sure, Charlie, sure. Haven't I heard that at least two other times? She smiled at the phone and wiped the tears off her face. It was at least nice to be back in the same town with him again. The truth of it is, Mr. Peterson, you only know how to make boy babies. It's all the basketball games you go to, something in the air there gets into your genes.

  All right, so maybe what I need to do more of in future is go to strip joints. That makes sense.' They chuckled together as Sam looked around her at the depressing apartment.

  I thought you were going to water my plants, Charlie. There was more laughter than reproach in her voice as she gazed at the long-gone wisps of brownish green.

  For five months? You must be kidding. I'll buy you new ones.

  Don't bother. I love you anyway. Tell me, by the way, how bad things really are in the office, now that you've got me home.

  Bad.

  Terrible-bad or just medium-bad?

  Excruciatingly bad. Another two days and I'd have had an ulcer or killed Harvey. That son of a bitch has been driving me nuts for weeks. The client hasn't liked a single storyboard we've shown them, they think it all looks too prissy, too sissy, too clean.

  Didn't you use my horse theme?

  Hell yes, we've seen every horsey model there is this side of the Mississippi, auditioned every female jockey, every trainer, every

  No, no, for chrissake, Charlie. They're right if that's what you're doing. I meant horses. Cowboys. You know, macho, sunsets, as in riding into the sunset on a big beautiful stallion.' As she said it her mind went instantly to Black Beauty and, of course, Tate. That's what you need for those cars. You're not selling a little woman's car, you're selling a low-cost sports car, and they want to give an impression of power and speed.

  And you don't think a racehorse can do that?

  Hell no. She sounded adamant, and at his end he grinned.

  I guess that's why this one's your baby.

  I'll take a look at what you've got tomorrow.

  See you then, kid.

  Give my love to Mellie, Charlie, and thanks for calling. She hung up and looked around again and sighed, whispering to herself, Oh, Tate why?

  Bit by bit she unpacked her suitcase, dusted things off, tidied up, looked around, and tried to convince herself that this was her home. At ten o'clock she was grateful to climb into bed with a notepad and some memos from Harvey. She wanted to get a head start on what she had to do the next day. It was after twelve o'clock when she set d
own the notepad, turned off the light, and tried to go to sleep. In the end it took her another two hours, as she lay thinking of the ranch and waiting to hear the familiar sounds that never came.

  Samantha's return to the office the next morning felt, to her, like a strange trip backward in time toward a point that seemed totally foreign, her desk and her office and her colleagues suddenly seemed like part of another life. She could barely imagine a time when she had spent ten hours a day there, when the workings of Crane, Harper, and Laub had preoccupied her every waking hour. Now the problems they dealt with seemed so childish, the clients they talked about so foolish and tyrannical, the concepts and the presentations and the ideas all seemed like child's play to her. She couldn't somehow bring herself to be truly frightened that they might lose a client, to care if someone were going to be angry, or the meeting might go awry. She listened with a serious expression all morning and when it was over, she felt as though she had wasted her time. Only Harvey Maxwell, the creative director, seemed vaguely to sense her feelings and he looked at her sharply after everyone else had left the conference room on the twenty-fourth floor.

  Well, Sam, how does it feel? He eyed her closely, his brows knit, his pipe in his hand.

  Strange. She had always tried to be honest with him.

  That's to be expected. You've been gone for a long time.

  She nodded slowly. Longer than I should have been maybe. She looked up at him, her eyes hooked into his. It's hard to come back after such a long time. I feel She hesitated and then decided to say it. As though I've left a big part of me there.

  He sighed, nodded, and attempted to relight his pipe. I feel that too. Any special reason? His eyes sought hers. Anything I ought to know about? You fall in love with a cowboy, Sam, and plan to go back? But he was asking her more than she wanted to tell him, so she only shook her head.

  Not really.

  I'm not sure I like your answer, Sam. He put down his pipe. It's a little vague.

  But Sam spoke to him quietly. I came back. You asked me to and I did, maybe that's all we both need to know for now. You let me go away at a time when I needed to do that desperately, much more than I realized at the time. And now you need me, so here I am. I'm here for as long as you need me. I won't run out on you, Harvey. I promise. She smiled but Harvey Maxwell did not.

  But you think you might go back, Sam?

  Maybe. I don't know what will happen. And then with a small sigh she gathered up her things. Why don't we just worry about our client right now? What do you think about my ranch themes for the commercials, a cowboy riding along in the twilight or at sunrise, with a herd of cattle behind him ' a man mounted on a splendid horse, emerging from the landscape, yet at one with his surroundings

  Stop! He held up a hand and grinned. You'll make me buy the car. I like it. Work up some storyboards with Charlie and let's see if we can get this show on the road.

  The storyboards she worked up over the next three weeks with Charlie were the best that any of them had ever seen. What they had on their hands was not only a series of powerful commercials, they had another award-winning campaign. As Sam sat back in her chair after the first client meeting, she looked happy and proud.

  Well, kiddo, you did it. Charlie threw his arms around her as they waited for Harvey to join them. He had walked the client out to the elevator while Sam and Charlie talked. They loved it!

  They should. Your artwork was stupendous, Charlie.

  My pleasure. He grinned and stroked his beard, and a moment later Harvey joined them, beaming for once and waving toward the boards set up around the room. There were four commercials they had presented, in the hopes of talking the client into one or two. The client had accepted all four.

  Well, children, did we make a successful presentation or did we make a successful presentation? Harvey couldn't get the grin off his face and Samantha smiled back happily at him. It was one of the first times she had looked happy since she'd come back, but it felt good to be doing something constructive, and to have done it so well.

  When do we start?

  They want to go into production on it immediately. How soon can you start, Sam? Do we have any locations lined up? Christ, you must know enough ranches to get things rolling. What about the one you've been living on for the last six months?

  I'll call. But we're going to need three more. And I think she mused about it while gnawing her pencil I think we're going to want some entirely different locations. Each ranch should be different, special, set apart from the others. We don't just want repeats of the one we shot before.

  What are you suggesting?

  The Northwest, the Southwest, the Midwest, California ' maybe even Hawaii' Argentina?

  Oh, Jesus. I knew it. Well, figure it all out and work it into the budget. We still have to get that past them, but I don't really think we'll have a problem with it. Just do me a favor, start finding locations. It sounds like this may take a little time. And call your friend out at your ranch. At least that will give us one. If we have to, we can start there. Sam nodded. She knew that this shoot, like countless others, was going to be entirely hers. Now that she was back, Harvey was already talking about retiring again, and she knew that he would leave all the location work to her.

  I may have to fly out and look at some places next week, Harvey. Sound okay to you?

  That sounds fine. He left them then, still with a broad smile on his face, and Samantha and Charlie went back to their offices, Samantha to her white-on-white office with chrome and glass desk, beige leather couch and chairs, and lithographs all coordinated in the same white and beige. Charlie's office looked more like an artsy-craftsy attic, cluttered and colorful and amusing, with odd-shaped boxes, huge plants, and funny signs. It looked exactly like an art director's office, one wall was white, one yellow, two were a deep heather blue, and the rug on the floor was dark brown. He had, of course, chosen his own decor. Sam's was part of the general scheme of the whole CHL office, all of it done in soft sand colors and cool textures with modern lines, and not a great deal of soul. But it was restful to work there. She never even saw the decor when she was working, and when she saw clients, she usually met them in one of the conference rooms, or at The Four Seasons for lunch.

  She knew when she looked at her watch that it was the wrong time to call Caroline to ask if they could film there. At noon in California Caroline would be out in the hills with Bill and the other men. But she got out the list she had already glanced at that morning in anticipation and began to make phone calls to see what she could do. She knew damn well that she couldn't just pick up the phone and call ranches where she knew no one. She would have to fly out to the areas, then drive around and make her pitch to them in person, asking them if they would allow a commercial to be filmed on the ranch. It usually took weeks to find locations, but she was going to do it right, because she was going to produce the best damn commercials that anyone had ever seen. She was doing it as much for the client now as for herself. It meant a great deal to her to make everything perfect, to make it special and important and striking and effective and maybe even to find Tate. That was a possibility that hadn't escaped her. It wasn't why she had pushed for the concept. The cowboy-on-horseback theme was perfect for the product, but it also could be that while she was traveling and looking for locations, and maybe even while she was out there again for the shooting, maybe then someone on one of the ranches might have heard of Tate. The prospect of finding him was a goal she never lost sight of, and now it loomed larger than ever as she called the travel department and asked them to book her on flights to Phoenix, Albuquerque, Omaha, and Denver, and all during the following week.

  Looking for a location? the voice asked.

  Yeah. Sam was already deeply engrossed in the notes on her desk. She had a list of places she wanted to see, most of them concentrated in those four areas, and then of course there was Aunt Caro's ranch.

  Sounds like fun.

  It should be. And Sam's eyes began
to dance.

  The phone rang at the Lord ranch at six o'clock that evening as Sam sat in her apartment in a bathrobe, once again looking around at the lifeless decor. She decided as she waited for the phone to be answered that she was going to have to do something about the way the place looked, if she stayed there.

  Hello? It was Caroline, and Sam immediately broke into a smile.

  Boy, it's good to hear your voice.

  Sam? Caroline smiled in answer. Are you all right?

  I'm fine. I'm just working on a crazy project. And aside from wanting to know how you all are, I wanted to ask you a favor, but you have to say no if that's what you want.

  First tell me how you are, and how it feels to be back. Samantha noticed that Caroline sounded tired, but she put it down to a long day's work and reported in full on her return, how grim the apartment looked, what it felt like to go back to the office, and then her voice came alive with excitement as she explained about the commercials and her search the following week for other ranches.

  And you know what that means, don't you? Her voice fairly flew. It means that maybe, just maybe, if I get lucky she barely dared to do more than whisper I could just find Tate. Hell, I'm going to be all over this country. For a moment, Caroline said nothing.

  Is that why you're doing it, Sam? Caroline sounded sad for her. She wanted Sam just to forget him. It would be better for her in the end.

  No, it isn't. She withdrew a little. She had heard the dismay in the older woman's voice. But it's why I'm so excited about it. This is a great opportunity for me.

  I'd say so professionally, in any case. This could be very important for you, if the commercials come out as well as you seem to think they will.

  I'm hoping they do, which is part of why I called. Aunt Caro, how would you feel about our shooting at the ranch? It was a candid, open question but there was a moment of silence at the other end.

  Normally, Sam, I'd have loved it. If nothing else, it would give us an excuse to see you. But I'm afraid that right now it's out of the question. There was a catch in her voice as she said it, and Sam frowned, is something wrong, Aunt Caro?