as certain.
“Journey! Reno!” Myra called from a distance. “Dinner’s ready!”
Journey clung to him. “I’m not ready to let you go.” Not now. Not ever.
Kissing the side of her face, he let out a ragged sigh. “Let’s go in. We have the night to look forward to. I’ll hold you until morning dawns.”
* * *
“I am stuffed. You can cook for me anytime, Aunt Myra.” Reno patted his full stomach. “What did you call that dish?”
Myra shook her head. “I can’t believe I’m about to lecture a true Texas cowboy on the nature of chicken fried steak.”
Reno looked amused. “Remember, I may be a cowboy now, but I started out as a half-breed from Tennessee.”
Journey reached under the table to squeeze his knee. She couldn’t stand when he denigrated himself in anyway. “A perfect mix as far as I’m concerned.”
Paying no attention to their byplay, Myra took great pride in sharing her recipe. “There’s a lot of differing opinions on the origin of chicken-fried steak, but my favorite is how Jimmy Don Perkins, a short-order cook from Lamesa, created the dish by accident in 1911. As the tale is told, he misunderstood an order for chicken and another for steak as being one order and a Texas delicacy was born, a perfect marriage of meat, batter and grease. It’s easy as pie to make, you take a cheap cut of steak, like round, and you beat the hell out of it with a mallet.”
Reno got so tickled watching her pretend to be hammering on a piece of meat. “Beat the hell out of it, you say?”
“That’s right.” She kept hammering the air with her fist. “Next, you season it up with salt and black pepper. Then, you dip it in a mixture of egg and milk before dredging it in flour. Heat your shortening in a cast-iron skillet and fry it up golden brown. You can use the leftover grease and drippings to make the cream gravy.”
Reno tapped the side of his empty plate. “Well, I can guarantee I’ll be cooking this dish in the King’s Ransom kitchen before too long.”
Aunt Myra’s eyes grew wide. “If you do, Jimmy Don won’t be the one who invented it.” Lifting her palms to her cheeks, her mouth formed a perfect O. “Reno, don’t tell them it’s chicken-fried steak, call it Myra-Weiss steak. I’ll be famous before I’m born!”
Journey laughed. “There’s no telling how many oddball things will turn weird if he starts changing history, Aunt Myra.”
Lou, who’d been pretty quiet so far, tapped the tines of her fork nervously on her water glass. “Isn’t changing history what this is all about? Reno goes back in time to stop the massacre of the Native Americans and to save his brother. That’s changing a lot of history. I wonder what all repercussions there’ll be?”
“Innocent people won’t die, that’s the best repercussion there can be.” Reno acted shocked that she’d even voiced the thought.
Lou wasn’t through. “I realize what you’re saying, but the consequences could be far-reaching. Generations of people will be born that wouldn’t have been born otherwise. Their actions will have an impact on society and on history. Some actions will be for great good and others will undoubtedly be for great evil.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?” Reno asked. “Because it’s not going to work. I can’t worry about those far-reaching effects. All I want to do is save the people I care about – what happens after that is in the hands of fate.”
Lou said no more. She just studied her plate, seeming to choose not to argue. Aunt Myra looked thoughtful, but she didn’t voice an opinion either. Journey just chose to let it be. As far as she was concerned, Reno was right. This was too important for him to worry about a future he couldn’t control.
“Well, how about dessert?” Myra stood and began to gather the dishes. “Get some bowls, Journey.”
“What are we having?” Folding his napkin and placing it by his plate, Reno pushed his worries aside for another time.
“Homemade peach cobbler using fresh Stonewall peaches.” Myra named a small community just east of Fredericksburg famous for its peach orchards. “And! Homemade vanilla ice cream!”
In no time at all, they were all chowing down on a bowl of sweet goodness. Reno ate two helpings, then groaned because he was so full. Once they were finished, Journey rose to her feet. “I’ll clean the kitchen, Aunt Myra. You go sit down.”
“No. I’ll do it. Everyone out