Page 33 of Texas Splendor
“I wear them in winter … and on special occasions.” The heat warmed her cheeks. “I’ve never taken a ride in a buggy.”
“Then you’re in for a treat. This buggy rides well.”
She stepped off the porch, and he fell in step beside her, his hand coming to rest easily on the small of her back. The buggy had two seats. The bench in the back held two boxes.
“What’s in the boxes?” she asked.
“Our lunch is in one, and your dog is in the other.”
Looking up at him, she nearly tripped over her feet. He steadied her and smiled. “Didn’t figure you’d want to leave him here alone. I put him in the box with some blankets and my pocket watch. He went right to sleep.”
He took her hand, helped her into the carriage, and settled beside her, his thigh brushing hers. She pressed her knees together and clenched her hands in her lap. He lifted the reins and gave the horses a gentle rap on the backside. In unison, they surged forward into a trot.
They rode in silence for several moments, the countryside unfolding before them, bathed in the blue of bluebonnets.
“I love this time of year,” Loree said wistfully, “when the flowers coat the hills.”
“Their fragrance reminds me of you.”
Peering at him, finding his gaze fastened on her, she released a self-conscious laugh. “I gather them up, dry them out, and sprinkle the petals around the house. Sometimes I put them in my bath water.”
His eyes darkened and she wondered if he was thinking of the night when he’d washed her. His gaze drifted down to her lips and she knew he was.
“How far away is your old home?” she asked hastily.
“If my brother’s map is accurate, I figure an hour or so.”
The journey took a little over two hours, and Loree thought it was the most pleasant two hours of her life, even though they spoke little. When he finally drew the buggy to a halt, Loree felt a somberness come over him. She couldn’t say that she blamed him. Weeds, overgrowth, and a dilapidated structure that might have once been a one-room cabin greeted them.
Although she had grown up with little, she knew she’d had more than he might have possessed here. The buggy rocked as he climbed out. He walked around the horses and came to her side, extending his hand. He helped her out, then reached beneath the seat and gathered up a handful of bluebonnets. She was surprised to feel the slight trembling in his hand as he wrapped it around hers.
“I don’t remember much about the place,” he said quietly as he led her away from the buggy.
“How old were you when you left?” she asked.
“Five.”
They walked until they reached a towering oak tree, the branches spreading out gracefully, the abundant leaves whispering in the breeze. Hanging from the lowest branch, a swing made of fraying rope and weathered wood swayed slightly. On the ground to the right of it, among the weeds and briars, stood a wooden marker.
Lovita Leigh.
Wife and Mother.
Deeply Loved, Sorely Missed
1829-1865
Austin released Loree’s hand, removed his hat, dropped to one knee beside the grave, pulled at the weeds until he’d made a small clearing, and placed the flowers in front of the marker. He braced his forearm on his thigh and bowed his head.
Loree knew a moment’s hesitation, feeling awkward because she was familiar with every aspect of the outer man and understood so little of the man who dwelled inside. Yet from the beginning, she had been drawn to him and the anguish in his eyes that spoke when his voice didn’t.
She knelt beside him and laid her hand on his forearm, squeezing gently. He turned his hand slightly and moved it back until he was able to intertwine his fingers with hers.
“I don’t remember what she looked like,” he said quietly. “A man should remember his mother.”
“You do remember her or you wouldn’t have felt a need to come here.” She touched the blue petals of the flowers he’d set on the ground. “I bet you picked flowers for her.”
A faraway look came into his eyes and a corner of his mouth quirked up. “Yeah, I did. She laughed. Not because she thought it was funny, but because it made her happy.” He closed his eyes. “Lord, she had a pretty laugh … like music.”
