“They could be gone in the blink of an eye.” She interrupted him, needing to get her point across quickly while she could still speak as her chest tightened and tears stung her eyes.
“Doubt it. We’re a long-lived family.”
“Sometimes accidents happen.”
“What I’m trying to say is—”
“Oh, Trey, look. Buffalo!” She pointed at an area not too far away. She didn’t want to think a moment more about losing parents before their time. She could smell the acrid scent of smoke in the truck and on him. She flashed back to the red-orange flames of the tree fire and the dense smoke spiraling up into the sky. And that started to take her where she didn’t want to go—not now, not ever. She gripped the seat with both hands and stared hard at the buffalo.
“They’re descended from a small bison herd saved by the Comanche. Mary Ann and Charles Goodnight—they were ranchers—saved a remnant of the southern herd, too. They were friends with Quanah Parker.”
“Quanah Parker was famous, wasn’t he?” Misty turned her thoughts to Aunt Camilla. She’d been a historian through and through, so she’d have loved seeing the buffalo and hearing Trey talk about the past.
“He was a Comanche chief. He was friends with Teddy Roosevelt and took him hunting on the plains.” Trey cleared his throat and clenched the steering wheel. “Sad time. Quanah was a war chief. He lost no battles. In the end, he was given a choice between life and death for the people he’d sworn to protect. He led them out of Texas onto a reservation in Oklahoma to keep them as safe as possible.”
Misty felt Trey’s deep sadness as if it were her own. “I’m sorry. But at least some of the buffalo are still here.”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her, smiling with an ironic twist of his lips. “And Quanah left plenty of descendants. The Comanche still ride the plains.”
“I’m glad.” She considered Trey’s dark hair and bronze skin. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you—”
“Yes. I’m not full-blood, but I’m proud of my Comanche heritage.”
“I would be, too.”
He pointed at the buffalo. “Bison were the lifeblood of the Comanche and other nations. Millions once roamed the plains. Now bison are being turned to as a good alternative to beef. Leaner meat. And tasty.”
“I’ve never eaten it.”
“You’re in for a treat.” He pointed northwest. “You can see descendants of the Goodnight herd on seven hundred acres at Caprock Canyon State Park in the Panhandle.”
“I’d like to see that sometime.”
He reached over and clasped her hand. “Let me know when.”
She chuckled. “First things first. You promised food.”
“You’re right. Let’s get this show on the road.” He gave her hand a squeeze before he took hold of the steering wheel again.
As Trey drove up a rise in the land, Misty saw a large gray brick and pale stone contemporary house with large windows and multiple rooflines covered by a shiny silver metal roof that overhung balconies and patios. Three dramatic square columns reached to the second-story peak. She could also see many outbuildings, including a big red barn, horse stables, corrals, and other structures that left her clueless.
Trey followed a circle drive around a dry stone fountain with a bronze statue of a buffalo with a wildcat on its back. He stopped in front of a four-car garage at the side of the house and turned off the engine.
“Sorry you won’t get to see the original 1880s farmhouse. Mom spent a lot of time updating the place.”
“What happened to it?”
“Fire.”
“Oh no!”
“That’s what got all of us so determined to make sure nobody else lost so much of their heritage.”
“I understand. I really do. You have my complete sympathy.”
“Thanks.” He pointed at the house. “Anyway, they rebuilt for comfort and convenience.”
“Beauty, too.”
“Mom’s doing.” He opened his door. “Come on. If you want, I’ll show you the house later. Right now, I want to get my firefighter gear out of the truck and get cleaned up.”
She nodded, but she hardly heard him. She felt as if she was reeling back in time. Trey had lost his family heritage in a house fire. Yet he was so very lucky that was all he’d lost.
He opened her door and looked at her, concern in his hazel eyes. “You okay?”
“Yes, of course.” She snapped out of her reverie and stepped down to the cement drive.
“Hang on a sec.” He opened the back door on the driver’s side of the pickup, hauled out his firefighter gear and the empty fire extinguishers, and shut the door. “I’ll set this stuff in the garage till I get it cleaned up.”
She watched as he unlocked the garage door, set everything inside, and relocked the garage. All his movements were mundane, and yet she never tired of watching him do anything.
“I’m glad you’re here.” He reached into the truck, pulled his bluebird out of the console, and shut the door. “Don’t want to forget my gift.” He put an arm around Misty’s shoulders and tugged her close as he led her around the side of the garage.
“I doubt your parents would approve of me being here.”
“Why would you say that?” He stopped and looked at her.