Part 28 (1/2)
”DP. But I thought you might've grown up and want tea.”
She laughed again, then quickly slurped from each cup. ”Yum! Maybe I'll have both.”
”You've made them both sweeter now.”
She laughed even harder. ”Sweet-talking man, you're getting in bigger trouble by the moment.”
”I hope so.” He glanced over at her and they shared a hot, lingering look before he settled his gaze back on the road.
He left Main Street and drove back lanes till he hit the twists and turns of No-Name Road that gradually turned from asphalt to gravel to rutted dirt until it played out on the bluff overlooking the Red River.
Kent saw the familiar line of daffodils that always heralded the return of spring sporting their early yellow blossoms along the edge of the cliff. No one knew anymore who'd planted the daffodils, but they suspected an early Republic of Texas pioneer had brought a touch of home to join the native bluebonnet and Indian paintbrush of the Comancheria.
”Do you remember our favorite tree?” He drove across the dry, clumped gra.s.s of the flat land.
”How could I forget?” She pointed at an ancient oak near the edge of the tall cliff. ”Our oak is still there!”
”It's just been waiting for us.”
With a quick turn of the steering wheel, Kent backed up under their tree. Its spreading limbs cast long fingers of shadow from the slanting rays of the sun across the golden gra.s.s that spread out around them. He cut the engine, and silence enveloped them in the coc.o.o.n of his truck.
”Alone at last.” He unbuckled his seat belt and glanced over at her. ”Does this feel like old times?”
She looked all around, then back at him. ”Old times, but new times, too.”
”Hungry?”
”Starving.”
”If you'll get the food, I'll get the yoga mats and sleeping bags for the bed of the pickup.”
”Yoga mats? Sounds like we're getting fancy.”
He chuckled as he opened his door. ”Comfy, that's all.”
”I never complain about comfort.”
He stepped outside, opened the back door of his truck, and slid out two yoga mats, two sleeping bags, four pillows, and several towels. He carried the pile to the back of his pickup, tossed them in the open flatbed, and lowered the tailgate. He went back and picked up an ice chest that he'd loaded with bottles of water and Dr Pepper.
Lauren walked around the truck, carrying the barbeque. She set the sack in the back of the pickup, then moved to the edge of the cliff. She looked down, then back at him. ”It's beautiful here.”
He joined her and put an arm around her waist to hold her close. ”Peaceful and quiet, too, except for the sounds of nature. Just listen to the frogs singing their nightly song down by the river.”
”I've missed it all.” She snuggled close to him, leaning her head against his chest.
He stroked up and down her upper arm, feeling her slender yet strong shape under her T-s.h.i.+rt's soft fabric. He looked out over the Red River Valley with her once more as they had so many years ago.
With Lauren by his side, he felt renewed in body and spirit while he watched the rust-colored water sluggishly slide around sandbars in the twists and turns of the river meandering its way east. Across the river, the red cliffs rose up in Oklahoma, meaning Red People, a name chosen from the Choctaw Nation when their vast land in the Indian Territory was confiscated and turned into a state, much as Kent's own Comanche ancestors had lost their huge track of territory. But the Choctaw, like the Comanche, still watched over and protected their ancestral land and people just as they had always done, so that in the end nothing had changed except the names.
As Kent watched, he felt as if he'd stepped back in time not only with Lauren but with his ancestors as well. The sun cast one last ray of brilliant light across the river until a snake of glowing crimson connected the old Indian Territory with the older Comancheria.
And then the light went out and they were enveloped in darkness.
Chapter 33.
Lauren felt as if a cape had been cast over the land as the sun disappeared and they were blanketed in darkness. And in that moment, all around her turned silent as frogs stopped singing, birds on their nighttime perches went still, and the rustle of insects and small critters in the gra.s.s stopped all movement. She s.h.i.+vered at the coolness in the air along with the lack of sight and sound.
Suddenly, soft light spread slowly across the Red River, turning the water into a bright, burnished ribbon of orange. Surprised at the sight, Lauren looked to her right, along the path of illumination, and saw the huge, round, orange moon rising on the eastern horizon.
As if the Earth had rested for the briefest of seconds after the sun set in the west, life suddenly burst forth again when the river s.h.i.+mmered from orange to silver as the moon rose in the sky. Frogs resumed their songs, night birds trilled together, coyotes yipped in harmony, and cattle mooed as moonlight spread across the Red River Valley.
”Ah, beautiful, enchanting muea.” Kent squeezed Lauren's waist as he dipped his head in respect toward the rising moon.
”Muea?”
”Muea is Comanche for moon. Don't you remember?”
”I'd forgotten so many people in our county still speak a little Comanche.”
”It'll always be our heritage.” He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her lips.
She s.h.i.+vered again, but this time from his nearness and all he was saying without words.
He glanced over at the moon again. ”Hope the cattle don't spook.”
”Why would they?”
”A big, orange moon on the horizon can scare cattle. In old times, cowboys on a trail drive always kept an eye out for the moon. The last thing they wanted was a stampede, particularly after dark.”
”Do you need to be back at the ranch?”
”Not tonight. Extra ranch hands are on duty on a night like this one.”
”Good.”
He gestured toward the moon. ”Reminds me of the Comanche legend about how the moon got spots. Do you remember it?”
Lauren shook her head. ”I don't think so.”
”It's a long story.”
”And it's a long night. I'd like to hear it. I bet Hannah would love to hear Comanche legends, too.”
”Any time.” Kent cleared his throat as he prepared to tell his story. ”Once upon a time, Coyote warned the children to be very quiet when they walked through the territory of Peah Moopit, the monster of a giant owl. A little girl-named Hannah-did her best, but her baby brother cried and cried. Peah Moopit flew down from the tallest tree and kidnapped them. Hannah managed to escape with her brother. Yet Peah Moopit came after them. On a full moon night, the children ran and ran across the plains until they were worn out. Baby Buffalo found them and stepped in front of the little ones to protect them. Peah Moopit just laughed at the sight. A baby to protect babies. I will get you now!' When Peah Moopit lunged, Baby Buffalo charged and knocked Peah Moopit high into the sky, up and up toward the bright moon. Soon dark spots appeared across the white surface. And that is how spots came to be on the moon.”
”Oh, Kent, that's a wonderful story.”