Page 67 of The Texas Sterling Collection
“One, after crawling out of a sleeping bag containing my rancher/bed-warmer, low 60s is freezing according to my body. Two, splashing my cold body with colder water sounds like a terrible idea.” Rod grabbed his towel and pointed to the gray pile of ashes in the fire pit. “Three, what fire?”
“If you don’t want saddle sores, wash up. Be sure to shake out your towel in case something crawly used it for a blanket. And the ashes cover live embers. We’ll have the fire going in no time.” Towel in hand, I crept barefoot to the spring.
“We, huh?” Rod shook out his towel and followed me. “Is this all part of becoming a cowboy?”
“Yes,we. You’re the one who wanted to go camping on horseback.” I shot Rod a grin as I splashed cold water on my privates.
“Me and my bright ideas,” Rod muttered. He splashed the icy water on his privates, now little more than a cock head hiding in a hole in his groin.
We dried off fast and tugged on our clothes, then bundled into our coats to ward off the early morning chill.
“Find a couple handfuls of dry grass.” I pointed to a few dry tufts near our campsite. “I’ll gather wood and then show you the magic of a campfire.” Rod gathered the grass while I found a few dried sticks and larger wood on the other side of the spring. A few minutes later, we sat on our fireside log. I stirred the ashes to expose the embers and added a handful of dry grass. The grass began to smoke before erupting in flames. I added twigs, then larger branches. Soon, a blazing campfire warmed us.
“This starting a fire from nothing business is rancher magic, right?” Rod exposed his palms to the heat of the fire. “If I search your pockets, I’ll find a lighter.”
I shook my head. “If you searched my pockets, you'd find something much more exciting than a lighter.”
“So, you did start this fire from the ashes?”
I barked a laugh. “You watched me.”
“Yeah, but I figured you used a secret thing to make me think starting a fire was easy.”
“No secret thing, babe. You’ll learn. I tell you what, next camping trip, I’ll let you start the fire in the morning.”
“Okay, as long as you’re here to help. Now, where do we plug in the coffeemaker?”
I laughed again. “You aresucha city boy.” I pointed to the aluminum coffee pot on one rock, the finish dull and blackened. “What’s that?”
Rod studied the object. “An antique coffee pot?”
“Coffee pot, yes. Antique, no. Walt bought it from the ranch supply store last year.”
Rod’s mouth dropped open. “Last year?”
“What…you think we buy a new coffee pot for every campout? Fill the pot with water from the spring while I find the coffee.”
Rod rose from the warmth of the fireside and grabbed the black handle. He filled the pot and brought it back to me. “Here, Mr. Rancher, sir. I can’t wait to see how this makes coffee.”
I poured some water out before tossing two coffee pods into the pot and snapping on the lid. I stirred the fire to expose a few glowing embers and set the pot on them.
Rod raised an eyebrow. “Coffee pods?”
“The greatest thing ever invented. We used to have grounds in our coffee, but the pods are coffee in little filter bags.”
“I assume we have cups. I never envisioned camping being quite so…rustic.”
I reached into my knapsack. “What did you expect camping to be like? A motor home with air conditioning, running water, refrigerator, and satellite TV?” The rattle of metal soon resulted in two tin cups. I handed one to Rod.
Rod shook his head. “No, that’s not camping. I went camping several times back in Boy Scouts, but we always brought ample food supplies.” Rod tapped his fingernails on the bottom of his cup, adding a rhythmic tinking sound. “Not bone china, but serviceable.”
“On what television show did cowboys around a campfire drink from bone china?” I laughed.
Rod grinned. “Good point. I can’t wait to inhale the aroma of breakfast cooking.”
“Ah, yes, breakfast.” I rummaged in my knapsack and pulled out two granola bars, tossing one to Rod. “Bon appétit!”
He groaned as he unwrapped the granola bar and crunched his way through breakfast.
