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Oh, yeah. The Czech Stop in West, Texas was a magical animal, calling Texans from Dallas to Corpus. Not that it was actually in the western part of the state. West was in Northeast Texas.Goofy fucking state.

“Mmm. I like the Elgin sausage ones. Kolaches I mean.”

“Oh yeah. And the jalapeño ones. Bubba likes the iced raisin bread.”

“Mmm. Don’t make me hungry ’fore we even start.” Once they got to the trailhead, they had a mile and a quarter and an eight hundred foot elevation gain ahead of them.

“We’re a ways away from West, man. So we’ll go to somewhere grand for lunch.”

“We totally will. There’s that Bavarian place. There’s the diner too. The one on the way out to the Walmart.” Tank stared at the trailhead, remembering how he’d sprained his ankle fifty feet up the trail the last time he’d been there.

“Uh-huh. There’s a pizza place by the Natural Grocers. You ready?”

“I am.” He took a deep breath, glad he’d been at altitude for a few days. This was a fun as hell hike.

“Cool. Come on, then. I haven’t been up here since Hector was a pup.” Dalton shot him a shit-eating grin and headed up.

“No? You’re gonna love it.” The bottom of the trail was rocky, but oddly like steps. No problem. The upper middle section was more challenging, as it was slick with spruce needles.

Dalton stopped and took pictures as they went, oohing and aahing over everything. The trail turned into sheared-off rock near the top, and there were these enormous cut stone steps, which luckily had a handrail. The most amazing thing, though, was when you turned the last corner on the trail and the super clear water appeared, its green tint otherworldly.

“Oh damn. Tank. Look at that.” The expression on Dalton’s face was like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Right? It’s amazing. It’s like this super fragile ecosystem.” He loved it. Way up above, there was a falls they could also hike to. There were boardwalks to keep people honest, and benches where you could sit and stare at will. So damn peaceful, even with the crowd who always made it up.

“I won’t touch nothing.” No. No, the Jakobys were stewards of the land, that was for sure.

“Nah, but we can take pictures, right?” The place was magical.

“That’s it. Damn. I could draw this for hours.”

“You draw?” Tank blinked a little. “I didn’t know that.”

“Just a little. For fun, you know?” Dalton was a sweet pink.

“That’s cool. For real.” He didn’t want to ask to see any. That might be rude.

“Everybody needs a hobby, right?”

“Yep. I whittle.”

“Yeah? That rocks. You make critters?”

“I do. You’ll have to see them when we get back to Texas.” He loved the wild animals, like mountain lions and wolves.

“That’s cool. Seriously. Gramps has a bunch that his great-grampa made a million years ago. They’re fucking cool.”

“Neat!” He wondered where the old man kept those. Tank had been to his house, but had never seen wood carvings. “That’s amazing. I got one real old one. A santo that came down from Momma’s family. My gran gave it to me when I was just little.”

“Yeah?” Dalton shot him a grin. “I’d like to see that.”

“You’ll have to come see.” He wanted to show Dalton everything. “Want some water?” They’d both hydrated well all the way up the trail, but his lips were chapped as all get-out now, and he knew they both needed more. Where they came from, there was humidity.

“Yes, please. It’s dry as hell up here.”

“No kidding.” He grabbed water bottles out of the light pack he wore on his back. Good thing he’d found it in the truck; they’d have been in trouble with just one bottle each, which would have been all that fit in Dalton’s pack. “Wanna try for Spouting Rock?” He jerked his chin toward the waterfall.

“Lord yes. I want to see it.”