The Lone Star Collection Page 17

  Sandy parked Xena, then joined a group of adults gathered around a tall, lanky man dressed in well-worn jeans and scuffed cowboy boots. A short, broad-shouldered woman flanked the old cowboy.

  “Jake Stilton,” the rancher said, extending a huge, leathery hand toward Sandy. “This is my wife and boss, Mattie.”

  “Hi, I’m Sandy Randle. Glad to be here!”

  Poker faced, Jake drily remarked, “Guess you’re planning to haul one or two pebbles back home in that little pickup.”

  “Nice to meet you, Sandy,” Mattie said. “Pay no attention to Jake. I’ve been ignoring him for 30 years.”

  Sandy instantly liked Jake and Mattie, but rather than socialize, she was eager to start exploring. After a few minutes of polite conversation, she asked, “Are there assigned campsites?”

  “Nope, your choice,” Mattie replied, “Any preferences?”

  Sandy chose to be direct. “Yes, I’d rather not be around boisterous children or yappy dogs.”

  “You might prefer the spot over there,” Mattie suggested, pointing to a level site nestled among a cluster of gray, igneous boulders. “Lane Denton would be your only close neighbor. She’s a quiet one; very serious about fossil hunting.”

  “Thanks, Mattie,” Sandy replied, hastily climbing up into Xena’s cab. She hurried over to the place which Mattie had indicated, stopping at the far edge of the clearing. This is perfect! Enough distance from my neighbor for privacy and a nice view of the mountain range to the south.

  After a quick inspection of the immediate area, Sandy set about making camp. She readied the popup tent in the truck’s bed, organized her gear, and filled two lanterns with lamp oil. When she finished gathering stones for a fire ring, Sandy decided to take a break. She grabbed a Coke from the cooler and perched on Xena’s tailgate. Her eyes strayed over to her neighbor’s campsite.

  Ms. Denton believes in roughing it in style. That’s a roomy, standup-sized tent. Nice awning in front shading comfortable chairs and a table. Hmm, a self-sufficient woman out on a trek in the high mountain desert–Lane could be family.

  Sandy checked the sun’s path, judging the amount of daylight remaining in the afternoon. Looks like I have about a hour and a half before sunset. Time to do a little reconnoitering. Sandy stuffed a water bottle into her backpack, and with her rock pick in hand, she ventured along a narrow path which hugged the side of the mountain.

  Twenty minutes of climbing left Sandy winded from the altitude. She sat on a conveniently flat chunk of limestone and stared at the vast expanse of the Chihuahuan Desert. Flora was scarce, mostly cholla, creosote bushes, and occasional tufts of stipa grass. Old lava flows were evident in the basalt ridges whose muted shades of gray and rose interrupted the monochromatic landscape.

  Sandy sat quietly absorbing her surroundings. She smelled the faint scent of sage in the soft breeze. The orange sun warmed her skin as it descended over the purple mountain range to the south. Overhead, a turkey buzzard glided in slow circles in search of a meal.

  Subtly, the desert began to work its magic. Months of cumulative tension evaporated, freeing the tight muscles in Sandy’s neck and shoulders. She relaxed, soothed by a sense of peace and oneness with the ancient land where dinosaurs flourished 100 million years ago. Her thoughts turned introspective. There is such simplicity in the desert–life engaged in the basic struggle to exist. Perhaps here I can sort through my emotional miasma. It’s been so long since I’ve felt connected to anyone. I trusted Josie when she said she loved me. I made a commitment to her with all my heart and soul. Since she walked away, I’ve been in purgatory, unwilling to risk again, yet feeling so lonely and tether-less. I need to move on, but how?

  Lost in her thoughts, Sandy eventually noticed that shadows were beginning to creep across the trail. I’m losing daylight. Time to head back to camp. I’d better hurry–night comes quickly here!

  Setting a brisk pace for half an hour, Sandy paused when she came to a spot that overlooked the camp grounds. My neighbor must be back. I see a blue Explorer parked by Denton’s tent. Sandy pulled out a pair of binoculars from her backpack and focused on the figure dressed in tan cargo pants and a red flannel shirt. Looks like an outdoorsy woman, close to my age, probably in her early forties. No kids and no noisy little dogs. Good, this camping arrangement may work.

  By the time Sandy reached Xena, the sun had disappeared below the horizon, leaving only a golden afterglow. She lit the lanterns at the base of the tailgate, then stepped up into the tent erected in the truck’s bed.

  The chill, which emerged with the onset of darkness, left Sandy shivering. She hastily pulled on a heavy sweater and exchanged her hiking boots for a pair of comfortable moccasins. When she emerged from the tent, she was surprised to see a figure approaching with a flashlight.

  “Hello, I’m your neighbor, Lane Denton.”

  “Sandy Randle. Glad to meet you. How long have you been here on Needle Peak?”

  “I arrived a couple of days ago,” Lane replied. “I’ve been fossil hunting around the base of the mountain.”

  “Have you made any interesting discoveries?”

  “Oh yes, I’ve found clams, oysters, and my first complete ammonite.”

  Even in the ambient light from the lanterns, Sandy could see the pleased smile on Lane’s face. “Hey, that’s terrific! Perhaps you can show me your finds tomorrow. I mostly collect rocks. I’m not very familiar with fossils.”

  “Sure, I’d love to show off my treasures,” Lane replied enthusiastically. “Good luck tomorrow. We can do show and tell in the evening.”

  Sandy watched Lane retreat into the darkness silhouetted by her campfire in the

  distance. Nice woman; very likeable. Sandy doused the lanterns and ducked inside her tent, zipping up the entrance. Tomorrow will be a very good day, she thought, happily curling up in her bedroll.

  Day Two

  Sandy awoke a couple of hours past sunrise. She noticed that her neighbor’s SUV was missing. Lane must have gotten a very early start. I’d better eat, then hit the trail. Today’s hike will be a long one.

  After a quick breakfast of cereal and fruit, Sandy stowed a BLT in her backpack and attached a couple of water bottles. She grabbed a hat and her rock pick, then set off toward a ravine that corkscrewed around the side of the peak.

  Five hours later, her backpack stuffed with specimens, Sandy turned around on the trail. The weight from the rocks slowed her progress. It was dusk when she wearily arrived at her campsite and noticed her neighbor tending to a pot perched over a smoldering fire. Her stomach rumbled over the thought of a hot meal. Guess it’s cheese and crackers tonight. I’m too tired to build a fire and too hungry to wait for something to cook.

  Sandy dropped her bag of treasures and disappeared inside the tent. While unlacing her boots, she heard footsteps. She peered out the tent opening and spotted Lane.

  “I noticed that you just returned from hiking. I have a nice fire going and dinner is about ready. Would you care to join me for some beef stew?”

  “Wow, you’re a life saver. I really overdid it today. Stew sounds wonderful. May I bring something for dinner, a bottle of wine perhaps?”

  “Sure, wine is fine.”

  Sandy quickly exchanged her dusty clothes for a warm fleece sweat suit. After a hasty attempt at grooming, she deemed herself sufficiently presentable to pass in the muted light of a wood fire. As she approached her neighbor’s tent, the mouth-watering aroma of roasted meat and vegetables greeted her.

  “Have a seat,” Lane suggested. She took the wine bottle from Sandy and immediately opened it. Handing her guest a glass of the burgundy, she said, “I’ll ladle out a bowl of stew for you.”

  “Thank you. The stew smells heavenly!” Sandy took one of the two chairs positioned near the fire ring. Soup spoons, napkins, and a plate of cornbread rested on a small table nestled between the chairs.

  While they savored their meal, the two women shared news about their day. Sandy contentedly sippe
d her wine and gazed up at the evening sky. In the clear mountain air, the inky blackness was filled with countless twinkling lights.

  “Nights in West Texas are truly breathtaking,” Lane remarked. “So many more stars are visible in this isolated area.”

  “Did you know that the Chiricahua Apache, who lived here a couple of centuries ago, believed that the stars were their ancestors?”

  “That’s a very pleasant thought. By the way, I found some primitive flint tools yesterday.”

  “What kind of tools?”

  “Mostly scrapers which the women used to separate meat from the hides.” Lane reached into a canvas bag and retrieved a piece of chocolate brown chert. One side of the flat rock was beveled from flaking.

  “How do you know it’s really a scraper?”

  “Here, see how the rock is palm sized with a depression for your thumb,” Lane explained as she pressed the piece of flint into Sandy’s hand.

  When soft fingertips lightly brushed her palm, tingles rippled through the muscles in Sandy’s forearm. Taken by surprise, Sandy jerked her hand away.

  Lane stared at Sandy for a long moment, then retreated to pile more logs on the fire. She busied herself poking the embers until the new wood transformed into bright orange flames. Eventually, she settled back into her chair.

  Sandy took a sip of wine and stared into the blazing logs. Gee, this situation has become awkward. I need to do something to break the silence.

  “How did you decide to vacation here?”

  Lane looked away. She was quiet for so long that Sandy’s anxiety mushroomed. I must have offended her, and she isn’t going to speak to me. I should probably thank Lane for dinner and leave.

  A split second before Sandy could stand up, Lane sighed and turned toward her. “Each year around this time, I go fossil hunting in memory of a dear friend.” Lane paused, a pained look on her face.

  The depth of the despair in Lane’s eyes touched Sandy profoundly. When Lane wiped away a tear, Sandy impulsively reached out to squeeze her hand.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up something painful for you.”

  “It’s okay, I really need to let go and move forward. Jeanne passed away almost four years ago. She was my partner.”

  Damn, I didn’t mean to ruin this pleasant evening! Perhaps, it will help her to talk a bit. “Was Jeanne the person who got you interested in fossils?”

  “Yes,” Lane replied. “We spent many good times hunting for the remains of prehistoric creatures.”

  “I’m sorry that you lost someone who was so special to you.”

  Lane nodded. “We really didn’t have much time together, only six short years. I try to be positive–some people look their whole lives for love and never find it.”

  “Yes, that’s true,” Sandy replied wistfully. She squeezed Lane’s hand again before letting go. “Perhaps, Jeanne is one of those stars watching over you.”

  The two women silently observed the sparkling diamonds scattered across the piceous sky. A short time later, Sandy noticed that embers in the fire were dying. “It’s getting late. I’d better go so each of us can get off to a decent start tomorrow. Thank you for feeding a starving rock hunter. The beef stew was absolutely delicious.”

  Before leaving, Sandy shyly pulled Lane into a quick hug. “Dinner is on me tomorrow evening.”

  Day Three

  The following morning, Sandy awakened an hour after sunup. When she peered out the tent opening, she caught a glimpse of Lane’s blue SUV kicking up dust on the trail that led down the mountain. Damn, she beat me out hunting again. That woman must be one of those morning people who love to get up at an obscene hour.

  Sandy shook off niggling feelings of disappointment over missing Lane and focused on getting ready for the day’s trek. Her plans were to examine an old lava flow formed when the volcano was active.

  Satisfied that all essential gear was stowed in her backpack, Sandy hastily stuffed a couple of breakfast bars into her shirt pocket. Opening a juice box to sip on the trail, she eagerly set out to find more specimens for her rock collection.

  Several hours later, after some very successful hunting, Sandy was perplexed. What’s the matter with me? I’m on my dream vacation finding beautiful agates, and I keep thinking about a woman whom I’ve just met. Okay, so what if she looks like a model from an L.L. Bean catalog? In two days, I’ll leave for home. Lane did share something very personal last night, though. Just be nice to the woman and treat her to a steak dinner this evening.

  Two more hours of exploring yielded a fist-sized piece of moss agate and half a crystal geode. Although pleased with her discoveries, Sandy’s thoughts of cooking dinner for Lane persistently intruded. She finally decided to abandon her search and return to camp.

  Late in the afternoon, Sandy had a salad prepared and potatoes were baking in the warm ashes of the fire. She glanced up from her cooking chores to see a dusty Explorer enter the main campground. When she waved, Lane slowed down and stuck her head out the window of the SUV.

  “Hi, Sandy! How was your day?”

  “It was fantastic! I made some great finds! Is dinner okay in about 30 minutes?”

  “Sounds good to me.”

  “How do you like your steak cooked?”

  “I’m a ‘rare’ woman,” Lane joked, grinning, as she drove off toward her campsite.

  While the steaks were grilling, Sandy set up a foldout table and canvas chairs.

  Mysteriously, she felt the need to impress Lane. Hmm, this water bottle works as a vase. I can fashion a centerpiece from sprigs of purple verbena that grow in the rock crevices nearby.

  Sandy added two stubby candles to the table from her emergency supplies. That looks okay. Paper and plastic will have to do in lieu of china and silverware. Gee, what would Martha Stewart do? Aha, I can use bandanas for napkins. Sandy was so preoccupied with her preparations that she didn’t see Lane approach.

  “Hey, you’ve gone to a lot of trouble–flowers and candles! So I’m going to be wined and dined tonight.”

  “Sorry, the wine cellar is bare,” Sandy retorted. “Beer will have to suffice.”

  “How gauche,” Lane teased, “but I’ll manage.”

  An hour later, both women were sated with food and feeling mellow after consuming several bottles of Shiner Bock. They moved closer to the warmth of the fire, their chairs almost touching. Lane reached for Sandy’s hand, lightly stroking with her fingertips. This time, Sandy did not pull away.

  “I can’t remember a more pleasant evening,” Lane remarked, “good food and wonderful company.”

  “Thank you.” Sandy smiled. She watched the patterns from the firelight dance across her companion’s face. “I’m very glad we both chose to vacation here.”

  “How did you happen to come to Needle Peak?” Lane asked.

  “The easy answer is good rock hunting,” Sandy replied, unable to keep a trace of pain out of her voice.

  Lane reached for her hand. She began to lightly rub circles with her thumb inside the palm of Sandy’s hand.

  Moments passed while Sandy struggled to put her feelings into words. Finally, with Lane’s quiet encouragement, she explained, “I came here for respite, too. I was in a relationship for seven years. I was fully committed to Josie, believing that we would grow old together. One day, Josie came home and announced that she had accepted a job transfer to Phoenix. She said that it involved a huge promotion and raise in salary. I was stunned! When I mentioned that there wasn’t any way I could follow her, Josie just shrugged.”

  “That was really a brutal thing to do to you!” Lane observed.

  “I was angry for a long time, then I blamed myself for not seeing it coming.”

  “How long has it been?”

  “Over two years ago.”

  Lane stood, beckoning to Sandy. “Come here, it’s hugging time!”

  The two women embraced, their arms tightly encircling each other. The mutual reassurance and affection morphed into a soot
hing sense of connectedness. Several minutes passed before Sandy and Lane reluctantly eased apart.

  With the physical separation, Sandy felt a surprising sense of loss. It feels so good to be held by Lane. I don’t want to let go! She fills the empty spaces that ache so much.

  Sandy smiled at the woman who had quickly become important to her. We have so little time left, only one more day here. I want to be with her as much as possible! Shyly, she asked, “Lane, how would you like to go rock hunting tomorrow?”

  “You wouldn’t mind a novice tagging along?”

  Sandy laughed. “No, I can always use someone to pack my rocks down the mountain.”

  “I’d love to go exploring with you.” Lane rested her hands on Sandy’s shoulders, leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Tomorrow will be a wonderful new adventure,” she promised.

  Sandy watched Lane disappear into the night. I really like that woman! She is funny, affectionate, plus she enjoys nature, too.

  When Sandy curled up in her bedroll, sleep didn’t come immediately. She replayed Lane’s parting kiss–how it made her feel warm and comforted. She also recognized that Lane’s affection left her body yearning for much more.

  Day Four

  The next morning, Sandy was awakened by a familiar voice. “Wake up, sleepyhead, you’re burning daylight! Coffee and a hot breakfast served alfresco in ten minutes.”

  “Okay. Okay. Let me throw on some clothes,” Sandy muttered, trying her best to be civil at such an early hour.

  “Clothing is entirely optional,” Lane teased. With no reply forthcoming, she left for her campsite to scramble eggs for migas.