“Post oak, cedar elm, bois d’arc, dogwood, Virginia creeper, blackberry, and a bunch of other stuff.”
She nodded, taking in as much as she could while she drove. She’d never seen this section of the Cross Timbers before.
“In the old days, there’d be a brush fire every year, and the tree line grew back so dense nobody could ride through it. The Comanche used the Cross Timbers as a secret route through Numunuu Sookobitu.”
“You speak Comanche?” She glanced at him in surprise.
“Most folks around here know a little bit.”
“What does that mean?” she asked, beginning to enjoy herself, as if she really was on vacation. Trey was a good tour guide. He seemed to know a lot.
“Comanche Earth.” He looked over at her. “Comancheria is another name for the Comanche Empire that stretched from Central Kansas all the way down to Mexico.”
“Are you a history buff in addition to all your other pursuits?”
He grinned. “I guess you could call me that. I like to read about this area and listen to tales from the old-timers. I can’t get too excited about the kings of England or European royalty.”
Misty laughed. “I like history, too. But give me the Alamo any day.” She liked Trey even more now that she knew he had so much in common with her and Aunt Cami. Only her aunt would’ve brought him up to speed on British, Scottish, German, and other history, too. And she’d have taught him to like it.
“Right.” He pointed toward the prairie. “See over there? That’s a handy trail between the two lines of dense growth. Nobody could see the warriors or get to them through the timber. But we keep the wild fires under control now so it doesn’t grow as thick.”
A twist of trees marched down the east side of the road, but Misty saw only plains on the west side. Yet she could imagine a long line of colorful Comanche warriors on horseback wearing breechclouts and carrying bows and arrows as they rode down the prairie to protect their people and homeland. She blinked, chasing away shadows of the past. No shadows. No ghosts. No sign of fire.
“Beautiful country,” she murmured, but her mind had fixated on the Comanche. Now that she thought about it, Trey had the high cheekbones, bronzed skin, and unusual eyes that could mean he was part Native American. Plus, his family had been here a long time, maybe from the beginning. Now he was even more exotic, more exciting to her. She wanted to ask him directly about his heritage, but that wouldn’t do. Still, she was learning a lot.
“We’re situated between the dry West and the wet East, so we get the best of both worlds. And our timber keeps rainwater deep in the soil.”
“Are there buffalo?”
“I run a small herd out on the prairie.” He chuckled as he tapped his fingertips on the dashboard. “More for pleasure than anything else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I like having them on the ranch. I like looking at them. And I like knowing they’re safe.”
She nodded, understanding him more all the time. “You really love this land, don’t you?”
“Can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“I feel that way about Dallas. So much to do and so much fun.”
“City born and bred?”
“You know it.” She laughed. “And when there’s a fire, a big screaming truck full of hoses and firefighters comes to the rescue, not some stray motorist with towels.”
He chuckled. “Don’t count us out here. We’ve got rigs and firefighters that fit the bill.”
She smiled even as she acknowledged that they were worlds apart. Country guy versus city gal. They were too different to ever bridge the gap. Still, she could enjoy the beauty of North Texas. And her cowboy firefighter.
As she followed the road, golden prairie dotted with black and red cattle spread out around her. Clumps of trees—mostly green live oak—provided shade for animals. A couple of pickups passed them, drivers raising a forefinger in acknowledgment. Soon she saw the bluff up ahead, an imposing chunk that dominated the land below it.
As she started the drive upward, she passed gnarled trees, dense shrubs, and sandstone outcrops. She felt a sense of danger, as if she were driving back in time. Trey made her feel reckless. She could almost imagine throwing her usual caution to the wind and running wild by the side of a cowboy or Indian.
As the road continued to wind upward, the land grew increasingly untamed around her. A large bird launched into the air from the side and struggled to gain altitude right in front of her windshield. She stomped on her brakes and swerved to avoid hitting it.
“What was that?” She started forward again, heart beating fast. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Wild turkey.”
“Really?” She watched the massive brown-feathered bird settle into a gully and then disappear with a shuffling strut into tall, sheltering grass with the unmistakable gobbling of a turkey.
“Slow as molasses. Guess I should’ve warned you to look out for them. Deer, too. You don’t want to damage your vehicle.”
“What about the animals?”