chicken breast and baskets of bread and cookies suddenly meant the most of all. “Tonight we’ll have a hot meal. I’ll probably need some strong shoulders to keep the home fires burning under my Dutch ovens.” She looked sideways through her eyelashes in an age-old flirtation.
“Once again, at your service…”
“…milady.” Kelley laughed, Jason did, too, and how well the sounds meshed together. Around them, the tourists explored snake holes and wildflowers, some even eager to try horseback riding from here to their overnight stop in view of Elk Grove. Hoop directed the lunch line, and already hungry ooh’s and aah’s rang through the camp. Kelley’s own tummy rumbled, but she reckoned some of it was Jason.
Before her brothers and other wranglers did the serving buffet-style, Hooper spoke up.
“One of our traditions at Hearts Crossing is saying grace before our meals. Now, I want you to know no one needs to participate if y’all are uncomfortable. But it seems most folks like to join in.”
“Hear, hear,” somebody called out, and Kelley nodded. Their tours weren’t faith-based as a whole, but because of their brand, most folks expected something spiritual, and Hooper always complied, making prayers optional of course, as well as fireside devotions before bedtime.
Everybody in sight, down to the smallest six-year old, David, bowed heads and folded hands. Jason included. Over the wind, her oldest brother spoke clear. “From Psalm thirty-four, verse eight. ‘Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed are all who trust in Him!’ Lord, we thank You for the beauty of Your world, for the animals who help us, for the pleasure of each other’s company, and for the gift of this food. In Your name…”
Hoop hesitated for a second so all could join in. “Amen.” And Jason’s voice was the loudest.
“Come on, you get a load off,” Hoop ordered her. As wagon master and host, he tended to eat on the run so he could mingle with the guests while they dined. And well, Kelley needed her energy and a good night’s sleep. She’d be up before dawn loading up Dutch ovens with bacon, gravy, and biscuits. And grilling French toast for the vegetarians. “Jason, get her rested and fed. And fill your belly, too. The Wild West bug has infected the group. About twenty of them want to ride the next four miles to camp. I’ll need you to help guide.”
Hungry and pumped—nothing in her world compared to the wagon trains—Kelley nonetheless felt Jason’s upcoming absence like a pain. When he took her hand and plunked her down on a big boulder, his touch ignited her nerve endings. “You sit. I’ll get plates.”
The sun-warmed rock eased her muscles, and she stretched her legs even though his two-minute absence now lasted ten years. Jason practically trotted back to her, amazing her when he didn’t drop their lunches. At the dollop of raspberry butter hunkered at the corner of his mouth, she fought off a raging desire to lick it from his lips.
“Good grub,” Jason remarked inelegantly through a mouthful. “Your own recipe?”
“This one, yes. And it’s on the menu at the restaurant, in smaller doses of course. For hot meals, I have my ‘bible’ of course, and another good book on Dutch oven cooking. And take a look at my jeans. They’re blue now, but they’ll be wearing the sooty effects of campfire cooking before long.”
“Hmmmm.” He looked her over and his flirty gaze warmed her through.
“Tonight, we’ve got The Commoner’s Stew, Cheesy potatoes, and Very Berry Pie. Biscuits and more raspberry butter, too.” She tried her best cowgirl drawl. “There’s enough meatless stuff to please anybody, and we don’t worry about carbs here at Hearts Crossing. We reckon everybody needs an extra energy boost.”
Jason chuckled. “I reckon that’ll be true, if we’ve got twenty greenhorns spending a couple hours on horseback.”
With a half-lidded smile, Kelley peeked up from her
“Once again, at your service…”
“…milady.” Kelley laughed, Jason did, too, and how well the sounds meshed together. Around them, the tourists explored snake holes and wildflowers, some even eager to try horseback riding from here to their overnight stop in view of Elk Grove. Hoop directed the lunch line, and already hungry ooh’s and aah’s rang through the camp. Kelley’s own tummy rumbled, but she reckoned some of it was Jason.
Before her brothers and other wranglers did the serving buffet-style, Hooper spoke up.
“One of our traditions at Hearts Crossing is saying grace before our meals. Now, I want you to know no one needs to participate if y’all are uncomfortable. But it seems most folks like to join in.”
“Hear, hear,” somebody called out, and Kelley nodded. Their tours weren’t faith-based as a whole, but because of their brand, most folks expected something spiritual, and Hooper always complied, making prayers optional of course, as well as fireside devotions before bedtime.
Everybody in sight, down to the smallest six-year old, David, bowed heads and folded hands. Jason included. Over the wind, her oldest brother spoke clear. “From Psalm thirty-four, verse eight. ‘Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed are all who trust in Him!’ Lord, we thank You for the beauty of Your world, for the animals who help us, for the pleasure of each other’s company, and for the gift of this food. In Your name…”
Hoop hesitated for a second so all could join in. “Amen.” And Jason’s voice was the loudest.
“Come on, you get a load off,” Hoop ordered her. As wagon master and host, he tended to eat on the run so he could mingle with the guests while they dined. And well, Kelley needed her energy and a good night’s sleep. She’d be up before dawn loading up Dutch ovens with bacon, gravy, and biscuits. And grilling French toast for the vegetarians. “Jason, get her rested and fed. And fill your belly, too. The Wild West bug has infected the group. About twenty of them want to ride the next four miles to camp. I’ll need you to help guide.”
Hungry and pumped—nothing in her world compared to the wagon trains—Kelley nonetheless felt Jason’s upcoming absence like a pain. When he took her hand and plunked her down on a big boulder, his touch ignited her nerve endings. “You sit. I’ll get plates.”
The sun-warmed rock eased her muscles, and she stretched her legs even though his two-minute absence now lasted ten years. Jason practically trotted back to her, amazing her when he didn’t drop their lunches. At the dollop of raspberry butter hunkered at the corner of his mouth, she fought off a raging desire to lick it from his lips.
“Good grub,” Jason remarked inelegantly through a mouthful. “Your own recipe?”
“This one, yes. And it’s on the menu at the restaurant, in smaller doses of course. For hot meals, I have my ‘bible’ of course, and another good book on Dutch oven cooking. And take a look at my jeans. They’re blue now, but they’ll be wearing the sooty effects of campfire cooking before long.”
“Hmmmm.” He looked her over and his flirty gaze warmed her through.
“Tonight, we’ve got The Commoner’s Stew, Cheesy potatoes, and Very Berry Pie. Biscuits and more raspberry butter, too.” She tried her best cowgirl drawl. “There’s enough meatless stuff to please anybody, and we don’t worry about carbs here at Hearts Crossing. We reckon everybody needs an extra energy boost.”
Jason chuckled. “I reckon that’ll be true, if we’ve got twenty greenhorns spending a couple hours on horseback.”
With a half-lidded smile, Kelley peeked up from her
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