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“What’d you see?” Her eyes flashed.
She’s like a kid on Christmas morning. He chuckled at Maeve’s enthusiasm as he brought up the picture. “Look for yourself.”
The bark had grown around the carved heart over the decades, and the two initials had lightened over time.
“M & R.” She cooed like a mourning dove. “They’re still here.”
“Just a little higher off the ground than they were a hundred and twenty years ago.”
The color of spring leaves, her eyes flashed in the stippled sunlight. “Be right back.” She attacked the climb as if it were a military maneuver, but when she reached the initials, she traced the heart with her finger, pausing as if in silent communication with the carver.
After a moment, she started down. Her cheeks ruddy from the exertion, she grinned from ear to ear as she jumped from the lowest branch. “I connected with them. We know Ramon’s fingers carved this tree.
“All right, you’ve ‘touched’ the characters in your grandmother’s stories and walked in their footsteps.” Her enthusiasm contagious, he chuckled at her obvious delight, glad to contribute. “Now is your bucket list complete?”
“Complete? Hah!” She tossed her chin. “Nowhere near!”
“Then what’s next?”
****
“Is it possible to see Marianna’s cinnabar mine?”
“I don’t—”
“And did I see a sign in Lajitas?” Another thought took hold, and I grabbed his arm as I raised up on my toes. “Something about horse stables?”
Luke grinned. “To answer your first question, the park includes several abandoned mines, but I doubt any of those were on Ramon and Marianna’s land. However, you asked about horses…” His eyes flashed. “Do you like trail riding?”
“Love it. Why?”
“A friend of mine offers trail rides to an abandoned quicksilver mine.” He cocked his head. “Interested?”
“Heck, yeah.” Returning his grin, I fought the urge to let out a Texas whoop. “Are his stables nearby?”
“A half-hour drive.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost one now. Are you hungry?”
“Not really. I’m still full from breakfast.”
“Same here.” He nodded as he scrolled through his phone’s contacts, then pressed a key. “Let’s see if he has room for two more riders on the next tour.”
****
Hoisting myself from the stirrup, I mounted the dappled-gray mare. Feels good to have a horse beneath me again. I breathed deeply, inhaling the moment as much as the mustang’s earthy scent. “I love the smell of horses.”
“Maybe that’s alfalfa you smell.” Grinning, the stable’s owner, Joel, gestured to the nearby bale of hay as he and Luke approached on quarter horses. “It’s a richer, more complex scent than coastal hay.”
“You sound like you’re describing wine.” Luke snickered. “Next you’ll say it has a tangy, pungent bouquet, and you’ll comment about its legs.”
“Nope, I’m more a beer man, myself.” Joel chuckled as he led us from the corral into the pasture. “Love the grainy whiff of a good microbrew. You don’t just smell the rye, oats, and malted barley—you drink ’em. Beer’s a feedstore in a bottle.”
“Well, I love this horse’s scent.” I crouched forward, burying my face in the mare’s mane, and inhaled the fragrance. “It’s organic—something between freshly mown grass and warm tomatoes on the vine. I could breathe it all day.”
Pointing, Joel reined his gelding. “The mineshaft is in those hills. See the pink mounds? They’re tailings from the abandoned mercury mine.” He guided us toward a rocky trail, then gestured to an earthen knoll. “That’s where they stored the dynamite.”
I regarded the ridges of caliche and loose rocks. “These dunes look like a scene from a moon landing.”
Joel smiled over his shoulder as he pointed to the left. “That’s Maverick Mountain.”
