by Gerri Hill
She picked up the menu, even though she already knew she would order the hamburger steak with cream gravy and mashed potatoes. She’d tried pretty much everything on the menu and tended to alternate between four or five items. There was nothing at all healthy about any of her choices and she’d finally gotten over the fact that she couldn’t get a meal with fresh fish. That was one thing she missed about living on the coast.
She glanced over the menu now, not really seeing the words there. She listened to the conversations going on around her, watching as Mark balanced three plates as he went to deliver them to Stuart and the Mertz brothers. She didn’t know their names. She wondered if anyone did. They were simply The Mertz Brothers, like some kind of showbiz group. That’s how she’d been introduced to them and she’d never seen one without the other. Both bachelors in their late fifties, she guessed, they owned a ranch a few miles up the road. Still lived at home with their mother.
She drank the last of her beer, then shoved the glass away. Two was her limit when she had to work the next day. Most nights she’d eat her dinner here, but occasionally she took it with her. She’d eat in solitude, then pour a little splash of whiskey into a tumbler and take it outside. During the cooler months, like now, she’d get a campfire going in the stone circle she’d built. She’d lean back in her chair, her gaze on the multitude of stars overhead. Stars so big and bright, you could almost touch them.
“Here’s those cookies, Kyler.”
“Thanks, Irene.” She eyed the plastic bag. “What kind this time?”
“Cowboy cookies.”
“Let’s see. That’s the oatmeal chocolate chip combo? Those are one of my favorites.”
“I know. With walnuts.” Irene patted her hand. “Come out to the house this week. The horses need exercise. And old Bo misses you.”
She smiled at the mention of Irene’s dog. Bo was barely a year old and way too much for Irene to handle. “I wish I could. Mark’s got me going shopping with him one day and I promised Phil I’d go out there and ride that filly I was telling you about.”
“The one that tossed you?”
“Yeah, that’s the one. She’s almost five and not gentle in the least. He didn’t spend enough time with her, he says.”
Irene snorted. “And now he wants you to tame her? Maybe you should wear a helmet when you ride. You come on out to my place. Those old mares barely get into a trot. Just our speed.”
She chuckled as she walked off and Kyler smiled after her. Irene was almost eighty years old. Her hair still held some dark color mixed in the gray and her face was etched in wrinkles. She had been born and raised out here, marrying a boy she’d known since grade school. She’d worked the ranch alongside her husband for fifty years and then some. He dropped dead one day when they’d been putting up hay for the winter. Right before Thanksgiving, she thought Irene had said. Their only child—a daughter—had wanted Irene to sell the ranch and move to Dallas with her. Irene had refused. That was fifteen or so years ago. Since then, Irene had comforted her sister when her husband passed away. Then, five years ago—right before Kyler got there—she’d buried her sister too. She had no family left out here and her daughter had given up on getting her to move.
Like Kyler had been when she moved out here, Irene had been absorbed into other families. Tammy and Phil—whose ranch neighbored hers—hosted her for the holidays each year. And Mark’s parents—even though Irene was technically employed by them—treated her like a grandmother. Kyler supposed she did too. Everyone tended to look out for Irene.
What most didn’t know, Irene didn’t need looking out for. She was one tough old gal. She still had the strength to saddle her own horse and Kyler enjoyed riding with her. Irene’s ranch was one of the largest in the area and even though she now leased it for cattle grazing—having sold her husband’s herd years ago—she still had the run of the place. She’d taken Kyler back in the hills, showing her the springs, taking her to where Limpia Creek flowed down from Mt. Livermore, and riding high up where the ponderosa pines outnumbered the junipers. It was quiet and peaceful, and you felt like there wasn’t another soul for miles. Which, as it turns out, could possibly be true.
“You daydreaming?”
She smiled at Mark and nodded. “Yeah, I was. Irene wants me to come out and ride. So does Phil.”
“I need to go with you sometime.”
“Yeah, you do. Irene can run this place without you for a few hours.”
He leaned closer. “Okay, truth is, I’m a little afraid of horses.”
She laughed. “Like I didn’t know that. You’ve made every excuse in the world.”
He pointed at her mug. “You want another?”
She shouldn’t. She should order dinner and go home. But it was still early. Better to sit here and chat with Mark and then go to her quiet little cabin. She met his gaze, knowing he’d be pleased if she stuck around to visit a little longer.
“Yeah, one more. You can tell me about your sister.”
He smiled and opened the freezer for a mug. “Did I tell you she’s cute?”
Chapter Four
It was a cold morning and Kyler’s breath frosted around her as she walked from her Jeep to the ranger station. Before opening the door, she paused to glance at the bird feeders. A flock of house finches—the red feathers of the males streaked with brown—had already descended on the tray feeder. A lone woodpecker—a ladder-back—was hanging on the suet cage. She’d gotten pretty good with identifying the resident birds, but she was still learning.
“Good morning,” Tammy greeted when she went inside.
“Morning.” She headed straight to the coffeepot.
“How was your shopping trip?”
Kyler cocked an eyebrow. “Is there anything that happens around here that you don’t know about?”
Tammy laughed. “No. As I hear it, the Waltons are prepping for after Thanksgiving. Their daughter is coming to stay for a bit. Trying to talk her into moving here and running the lodge.”
“That’s what you hear, huh?”
“Well, everyone knows that Dale and Susan have been talking about RVing for the last several years. So much so that I hear they even entertained the idea of selling the lodge.”
“Selling? No, I don’t think so. This is kinda their dream job up here.” She added sugar to her black coffee. “Mark says his sister is a city girl, though. Doesn’t think she’ll stay long.”
“Well, it does take a certain type to love it up here. When Phil dragged me out here, I came kicking and screaming. Now? I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”
Tammy was mid-fifties—fifty-six or -seven, she couldn’t remember which—and childless. She and Phil had moved out here to Ft. Davis Twenty-something years ago. Phil’s grandfather had passed, and he’d come out to see about selling the ranch. Instead, he’d fallen in love with the wide-open spaces of the high desert mountains. Tammy claimed she’d contemplated divorce when he said he wanted to move here. She had been a vice president of a bank in Dallas, and was comfortable in heels and power suits, two things that did not fit out here. Tammy said she liked the ritzy neighborhood they lived in and didn’t like the woods.
“So you wouldn’t go back to the city?” She tasted her coffee, then added a little more sugar.
Tammy shook her head emphatically, her blond hair swinging back and forth. “No way. Besides, what’s there for us now? We’ve lost touch with old friends. Both of our parents love coming out here to visit.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “Phil’s come a little more than we’d like, though. And they’re all coming for Christmas again this year.”
Kyler laughed, knowing that Tammy and Phil’s mother butted heads over every little thing. “At least they visit. Mine only came the one time, as you know.”
“Well, they came to see where you live. It’s certainly not for everyone—this wild, remote wilderness that we have here. You were a little shocked at first too, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, I was. Grew
up in Houston. Then moved to Corpus. Worked on Mustang Island. It wasn’t just being far from a city that was different. The land, the terrain, the weather. Night and day difference from where I came from.”
“Oh, I know. But I’ve had longer to adjust.” Her eyes softened a bit. “You ever going to tell me why you moved out here?”
“I did tell you.”
“You needed a change. That’s a little vague, don’t you think?”
Kyler looked away from her stare. “It’s kinda embarrassing…so…”
“Well, I don’t guess it’s any of my business. You’re here and we love having you.”
“Thank you. I’ve grown to love it here. And I had a great time on the ranch the other day. I need to get out there to ride more often.”
“Phil enjoys it when you come. As he said, any excuse to cook on the grill. Now, what about Thanksgiving? Do you want to join us this year? The Millers are coming over with their daughter and grandkids. And Irene, of course.”
“Thanks, Tammy, but I think Susan would be offended if I skipped on them. I know Mark would.”
“They’ve kinda taken you into their family, haven’t they? That’s so nice.”
“Yeah, they have. But you’re right. Susan is more excited for Friday than Thanksgiving, I think. She’s anxious for me to meet Lexie.”
“That’s the daughter?”
“Yeah. Mark said that Susan thinks if we become friends then she’ll be more inclined to stay here.” She shook her head. “Don’t know that I’m going to have much of a bearing on it.”
“How old is she?”
“Mark said she just turned thirty.”
“And not married? Or is she divorced?”
Kyler smiled at Tammy’s attempt to garner information on the mysterious Lexie Walton—a daughter and sister they’d only heard the occasional mention of. “I think she’s single. Don’t know much about her, really.” Other than she was supposedly very cute and—according to Mark—Kyler would love her.
“Well, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough.”
Kyler topped off her travel mug with more coffee. “Guess I’ll take a swing through the campgrounds. Are we full?”
“Pretty much. Totally booked come Thursday. When I first started working here, I couldn’t imagine why people would come up here to go camping over Thanksgiving instead of staying home with family and feasting on turkey.”
“A lot of people bring the feast with them.”
“Yes. And a lot treat it like any other day.” She waved her hand in the air. “To each his own.”
“We were always booked at Mustang Island too,” she said. “Of course, the weather down there was usually still warm enough for shorts. Certainly warm enough to go surf fishing.” She glanced at Tammy. “I do miss that. The beach. The waves. The sounds of the gulls.” She laughed. “The winter weather.” She pulled her phone out of her pocket. “Let’s see. It was Thirty-four when I got up this morning. Down there? Ah, a balmy sixty-six.” She looked up. “Gonna be over eighty today out on the beach. Yeah, I miss that weather.”
“And you forget, come July, when we’re only in the upper eighties and no humidity, you could be way down there along the coast, sweltering in one hundred degrees and ninety percent humidity!” She shook her finger at her. “Besides, we’re going to be in the upper sixties today ourselves. You can’t beat that for Thanksgiving weather.”
“Oh, I know. It’s really only January and February that get to me. We’re slow and it’s cold.” She tapped the counter as she walked past. “Gonna go check the sites. Tell David I’ll tend to the bird blinds this morning.”
“Why haven’t you made that your official job yet? You’re the only one who truly loves filling the feeders.”
“Yeah, well, don’t tell anyone, but I’ve become a little bit of a birder. The winter birds are here, and I enjoy watching them.” She waved a hand. “See you later.”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Jim posted the holiday schedule yesterday afternoon. He’s got you working a four-hour morning shift on Thanksgiving.”
“Okay, good. Who drew the short straw for the afternoon?”
“David volunteered in exchange for Friday off. He’s got family coming up for the weekend so they’re not having their turkey dinner until Saturday.”
“And I’ve got Sunday and Monday off?”
“Yes. And we’ll start decorating for Christmas on Tuesday.”
She left with a nod, not really caring what days off she had although she did enjoy the ritual of decorating the office for Christmas. And she knew Tammy was intentionally waiting until Tuesday so she could participate. Tammy went a bit overboard, but that was okay. Most of the decorations she put up at her cabin were from Tammy’s discard pile.
She went to the white truck with the state parks’ decal on the door. She paused to take a sip of coffee before getting inside. She started the truck, then put the heater on high. She saw Tammy watching her from the window and she gave her a smile before backing away.
She drove through the park—oaks and junipers lining the roadway. Colorful tents could be seen among the trees and smoke wafted about from some early morning campfires. She took the first loop of the campground, checking the permits as she went. Later, after it warmed, she’d go back through and clean up the sites where people had vacated—pick up any trash left and clean out the fire pits, sweep off the concrete slab around the picnic table and get it ready for the next campers to move in. It was mindless work and she found she liked it more than most. And as such, Jim assigned her to campground duty more than the others.
This week, she and Todd were on trail detail in the afternoons. Today they were going to hike up Skyline Drive—the trail that followed the road up to the highest peak in the park—and remove any limbs or obstacles along the way. It was one of her favorite trails, perhaps because it was the least popular one in the park—multiple switchbacks and a steady climb to the top. Most people avoided it. They stuck to the lower trails that meandered through the foothills. Since Skyline Drive was less populated, she could often hike it without encountering anything more than deer and squirrels. She could pull her small binoculars out discreetly then and watch birds in private.
She pulled into an empty campsite, her truck facing the rocky slope below Skyline Drive. She was in the full hook-up area—with water and electricity—with larger RVs and travel trailers. As she stared out past the junipers, she saw a flash of blue. She knew it was a scrub jay without having to grab the binoculars.
She was secretly embarrassed that she’d started watching birds. Down at the coast, she was pretty much indifferent to it, even though hordes of birders flocked there during migration season. Identifying the little shorebirds gave her fits—they all looked alike. When the spring warblers came through, however, she had better luck, even though she had to sneak out her warbler cheat sheet when no one was looking. Here? No, there weren’t many rabid birders to stare at her and judge her lack of skills. She proudly—albeit in secret—brought out her bird book to learn the identity of the multitude of birds that called the Davis Mountains home and the migrants that came to stay during the winter months.
“I’ve turned into a damn birder,” she murmured with a shake of her head. Who would have thought?
Chapter Five
“My God…where the hell am I?”
Six hours into her seven-hour-plus drive found Lexie getting gas at the first place she’d seen in Ft. Stockton. A place that apparently everyone else—perhaps desperate for gas like she’d been—stopped. She’d had to wait more than ten minutes before a spot opened up at the pump. As she filled her tank she looked around, a vast expanse of a brown, lifeless landscape meeting her gaze in all directions. A cold wind blew and she shivered, watching as the gallons—and dollars—ticked by. She filled the tank, even adding more after the nozzle had clicked off. Even though her parents had told her they weren’t really that isolated, she wanted to be prepared in case she was hundreds of miles from anot
her gas station. After all, she’d just driven hours and hours along I-10, heading west into nothingness.
“In the middle of freakin’ nowhere. God, I must be crazy,” she murmured, pulling her coat tighter around her as she put the cap back on her gas tank.
Crazy, yes. She didn’t have many alternatives though, she reminded herself. Even if she didn’t stay—as each mile passed she was having second and third thoughts—she’d still have to give up her expensive apartment. Trish’s offer had been sincere, she knew, but she and Trish—while the best of friends—were too different to consider living together. Sharing a dorm room in college had told her that. She was a bit of a neat freak. Trish was not. She was gay. Trish dated four guys at once. She was a gym rat. Trish’s idea of exercise was walking down Sixth Street on a Saturday night, barhopping.
She met her glance in the rearview mirror. Yeah, she’d probably miss that, she supposed. Since she’d ended things with Cathy—several months too late—joining Trish and her friends on Sixth Street was a stress-free alternative to dating. Trish’s friends were all straight and no one ever tried to set her up. She was free to tag along with them without the stress of a date. She could relax at dinner on West Sixth, then mingle with the crowds as they hit the bars and music venues on Old Sixth—or Dirty Sixth as the locals called it.
She let out a heavy sigh as she pulled back onto I-10, merging with the huge eighteen-wheelers that had dominated the roadway ever since she’d passed San Antonio. Yeah, her life pretty much sucked, didn’t it? It wasn’t an exaggeration to say she was in a rut. She’d grown weary of her job, but she’d been making too much money to consider quitting. So when she’d gotten laid off, she thought perhaps it was a blessing in disguise.
Turns out, no, it wasn’t. Her skillset wasn’t that specialized and moving to another company would be like starting over. She’d slipped from her twenties to thirty during this unemployment phase and she’d convinced herself that she was too old for an entry-level position with entry-level pay. Of course, after a few months, she was forced to apply for those entry-level positions anyway. Yes, she applied and was told more often than not that she was over-qualified. As more and more jobs passed her by, it was harder and harder to maintain a cheerful persona during interviews. In reality, she was sinking into a pit of despair.