of friends. A so-so social life. Still…it always seemed like she was waiting for something. Something to happen. Something momentous.
Cock-a-doodle-doo!
Journey jumped. She didn’t often set the alarm on her phone and hearing the silly, raucous racket jarred her nerves. “I’ve got to reset that sound.” Rubbing her eyes, she moved to press end on the app before the rooster crowed again. “All right. Let’s get a move on.”
After brewing a quick cup of coffee, she showered and dressed, then did a quick check to make sure she’d packed everything she needed. The last thing she did was make the bed. When she straightened the pillow, she saw Reno’s photograph. Lifting it up, she placed it on the side table. As she turned away to pick up her duffle, Journey glanced over her shoulder. Seemingly invisible strings tightened, preventing her from moving away. With a huff of resignation, she snatched the frame off the table and stuffed it in her bag. Now, she could hit the road.
The trip from south Austin to Fredericksburg was a scenic one. She loved the hill country, the contrast of evergreens to the limestone cliffs was eye catching. As she drove her gaze would drift over the surrounding landscape. The rocky vistas fueled her imagination. She couldn’t help but wonder how it must’ve been a hundred years ago – how it felt to cross this rugged terrain on horseback or a wagon while facing the inherent danger of outlaws and Indians. Of course, she’d probably given this scenario more thought than others…considering her obsession.
Stopping at a red light just outside of Johnson City, Journey could admit she’d been obsessed with Reno from the first moment she read Saul Stanton’s journal. She could recall sitting on the window seat in her bedroom, enthralled with every word as she learned how the cowboy befriended her family, provided for them, and finally sacrificed his life to save them. As she grew older, the fascination with the hero took on a new facet – hero-worship gradually grew into love. Most would laugh at such a notion, but it was true. And the feeling didn’t lessen over time, it only grew. So far, no flesh and blood man came close to making her feel the things Reno made her feel.
Was it all her imagination? Some would say so.
But Journey knew it was more than that.
As she passed the ranch that LBJ, the 36th President of the United States, once called home, she turned up the heat against the growing chill in the air. By the look of the clouds, the day would be overcast. Noting a rumble in her middle, Journey decided today would be a good day for a pot of soup. Not wanting to delay Myra, she planned a trip into town later for some fresh produce. After she put everything into a crock pot, maybe there’d be time for a walk before settling down to get some work done before bedtime.
The farther she drove west – passing through Stonewall, then into Fredericksburg – the lighter her heart felt. Getting out of town would be good for her. And not just because of Casey. His rejection hurt Journey’s pride a bit, but her heart was definitely in one piece. Resting her foot on the brake, she slowed her speed as she eased down the main street of Fredericksburg, watching for the sign to the road that would lead north toward Enchanted Rock. From here, the distance to her family’s ranch was just a little over seventeen miles.
At the red light, she checked the messages on her phone. Her eyes narrowed to see a text from Casey. Without missing a beat, she hit delete. There was also a couple of orders for oils. This made her smile. She couldn’t wait to sit in the shade beneath the massive oak while she concocted her healing recipes. Just being on the property made her feel grounded. Connected.
Easing off the brake, she accelerated. Her heart rate seemed to follow suit. As each rotation of the wheel carried the car closer to her destination, Journey could feel the excitement within her begin to build. Yes, she was going home. Not to just a familiar house. And not to just the place where she was raised. No, this spot of earth held her family’s roots. The land had been passed down from generation to generation since Saul’s father moved his family to Texas from South Carolina. At the moment, she couldn’t remember the man’s name