Page 16 of Roughing It with the Rancher (Love Along Route 14 #11)

Chapter Fourteen

ESMERALDA

I watch curiously as the UFO hunters pack their gear, Reese chatting affably with them about things they’ve seen in the night sky recently, then sports, and finally ranching and livestock-related stuff.

Rodeo figures predominantly in their talk of sports as I admire my towering husband, likable and begrudgingly kind to everyone.

“Bye, y’all. Have a good night and a safe drive.” Reese waves as the caravan of vans departs. Turning to me, he wraps his arms around me, resting his chin atop mine. “How are you holding up, Treasure? Staying warm enough?”

“Yes, husband. But I still don’t understand what we’re doing out here.”

He chuckles. “You’ll know at sunrise. Now, how about we get back in the Caddy and see about making it as comfortable as we can for the rest of the night?

If we recline the seats, it should help.

I’ve got a couple of sleeping bags we can share.

We can zip them together, making one big enough for the both of us because for my part”—he leans forward, whispering against the shell of my ear—“my plan for tonight is to stay warm inside that lovely pussy of yours.”

“Mmm,” I moan, the juncture between my legs throbbing at his words. I don’t know how my hunger for this man can be so insatiable. “As long as my body’s pressed against your warm flesh, with your big, strong arms around me, I know I’ll stay toasty.”

“That’s right, wife,” he whispers, sending shivers down my spine and need to my lower core as his lips brush over my ear and neck, followed by naughty swipes of his tongue.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get enough of you,” he confesses as I bring my hand up to palm his cheek, giggling as his tongue descends to my décolletage. My nipples pebble with anticipation.

“Treasure, wake up. You have to see this,” Reese’s deep voice urges next to me.

I snuggle deeper into the sleeping bags, not ready to wake up.

“Esmeralda, you don’t want to miss this?—”

I stretch with a grumpy little moan, not ready to wake up yet.

“Esmeralda, you’re going to miss sunrise if you don’t?—”

I sit up next to the handsome rancher, shocking him into silence with my sudden movement. “Sunrise?” I ask, my mind jolting to life. “I haven’t missed it yet, have I?” I crane my neck to look out the window.

My breath catches in my throat as the towering black form that we parked near last night comes into full view, illuminated by the light of early dawn. “Oh. My. God.”

Reese laughs.

“Oh my God,” I repeat, shaking my head and rubbing my eyes. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yep,” the rancher says with a grin so wide I can hear it in his voice. “Get dressed and come outside. I’ve got coffee ready, sweetened with sugar and cream, although I don’t have all those fancy syrups you like … yet .”

I speed into my clothes, jacket, and boots. Scrambling out of the Cadillac, I stare dumbfounded at a massive dead cottonwood, its branches filled with pairs of shoes tied together by the laces and thrown over the branches.

“Are you kidding me? An actual shoe tree. Seriously?”

“Yes, ma’am. Or ‘St. Crispin stock,’ as your mapmaker put it. Now, we just have to figure out what ‘sunrise to hell’ means.”

“It sounds ominous,” I say, a shiver running through me.

Reese hands me a thermos of coffee. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.”

As the sky brightens and the last strains of darkness flee from the sun’s rays, it emerges brilliant and glowing, warming every inch of the land it crawls over. My eyes dart to the spot Nick pointed out last night, wondering what’s so special about it. I see nothing, still shrouded in darkness.

“So, I have to ask this question for the sake of due diligence. How long do you actually think the shoe tree has been here? I mean, lots of that footwear looks relatively new.”

“Fair question,” Reese says. “Long as I can remember, and Grandpa had a couple of funny stories from his childhood about it. All I can say for sure is that it’s been dead a long time, and people still make pilgrimages here to throw their shoes in the branches.”

“But why?” It seems like a lot of effort for no reason.

He shrugs, wrapping me tightly in his embrace.

I can feel his deep voice vibrating through me.

“Tradition, I guess. As the legend goes, the first shoes were those of dead pioneers abandoned in the Bonneville Salt Flats. Scavengers and traders coming through would find and leave them in this tree in case any passersby could use them. There used to be a funny little trading post and pony express station out here, too, though it’s long since been buried by time and decay.

Of course, those are recollections of my grandpa, so take them with a grain of salt. ”

“Sometimes anecdotal information is the best,” I counter. “Especially local knowledge. After all, you’ve got to figure right or wrong, if it’s been believed for a long enough time, it informed the map that Tyler Eldon Hayes made.”

“Maybe, and I imagine this was a well-known legend back then.”

I continue to watch the sun’s rays creeping over the land, lighting it up in brilliant shades of gold, pink, and orange.

The valley behind the shoe tree glows like it’s on fire.

All of a sudden, light hits a section of the sagebrush, lighting it up like a glittering, shining beacon of a thousand fractured pieces.

“Look at that,” I whisper.

“Wow,” Reese exclaims on an exhale. “That’s right where Nick was pointing last night.

The old ghost town of High Water. What you’re seeing sparkling and shining in the sunlight are thousands of pieces of glass from the old settlement.

Everything from window fragments to colored shards from old bottles and medicine containers.

Never thought trash could look so pretty. ”

The glittering spot transfixes me as Reese’s words slam into me. “Wait, did you call that place High Water?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Sunrise to hell …” My thoughts race. “Reese, what if the map means ‘sunrise to hell or High Water?’”

“Shit,” he exclaims, excitement edging his voice. “You’re right.” He kisses my cheek exuberantly, letting go of me. “We’ve got to hurry to get down there. It’s at least an hour’s drive by the only roads that access it. And there’s often a crowd down there, so we better get a move on.”

“Another crowd? What are you talking about?”

“Ghost hunters. They swarm rural Nevada like flies, looking for the next Goldfield.”

“Ghost hunters? For a secluded, lonely desert, Foxfire Valley seems to be hopping with people.”

Reese chuckles at my pronouncement, already working to put out the fire where he heated the water for our coffee. He shrugs. “Normal desert rats, you might say. Wait until August when the Burners arrive.”

“Burners?”

“Yeah, the Burning Man Festival. Ever heard of it?”

“I have. But isn’t that more westerly from here?”

“It is,” he confirms. “But Foxfire’s located on one of the direct routes to the Black Rock Desert. So, we get lots of eclectic folks around these parts. Strange costumes, decorated RVs, odd public art displays, fantastic tribal music.”

I chuckle. “Those Burners have nothing on our love song station.”

“Never, Treasure. That radio channel’s all ours. We’ll blare it all the way to Hell or High Water in search of our loot.”

“Deal,” I say, racing towards the convertible to unzip and roll up our sleeping bags.

“I can pop the top for you, if you’d like? It’ll make your job easier, but it still might be too chilly to travel that way.”

“No need. I agree with your assessment about the chill factor. But later today, I can’t wait to go back into convertible mode and get another load of those expansive Great Basin skies.”

“See,” the rancher observes in rich tones. “You stick with me much longer, and you’ll fall in love with this place. And maybe, by extension, me.”

“Do you think what we did last night and early this morning looks like anything other than the L word?” I tease, my face burning. I’ve never said the word in a romantic sense to anybody before, but I’m shockingly close to it as I eye my handsome husband.

“I know it is for me. But truth be told, Esmeralda, falling for you happened the second time I laid eyes on you.”

“The second time? What about the first?”

“I was too busy processing your over-the-top leather jacket.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “So, you’re telling me my jacket ruined our chance at love at first sight?” I put my hand on my hip.

“It is a lot to take in, even though I love it now like everything about you. But don’t go tricking me into saying something you’re not ready to hear.” His face is serious as he says it, his eyes dropping to my burning cheeks.

It’s on the tip of my tongue. But those words feel sacred to me, something I’ve never bestowed on anyone. I eye the gold band on my hand as I pack up, and Reese shoves everything in the trunk or back seat. “Has any woman ever worn your ring before, Reese?”

He pauses, eyeing me curiously. “No, Mrs. Gunner. Not a one. Never even looked at an engagement ring before.”

“So, this is a first for you?”

“Absolutely, and I hope it’s a last for me, too,” he intones, his voice warm with emotion.