When she was finished, Sophie sipped her water and sat back in the chair, glancing out over the balcony railing at the haunting beauty of the landscape.
The sun was setting, adding a flare of color to the many hills and valleys. It was surreal sitting here with Clay, watching it unfold.
“You are awfully quiet,” Clay remarked.
“It’s just so stunning. In the five years I’ve worked for you, I’ve never taken the time to enjoy the natural wonders of the area. Granted, this balcony provides a perfect place to view it, but I never guessed a dry desert landscape could be so...so...”
“Intriguing?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “It really is.”
“I love all the old stories about the early gold miners and treasure hunters from the late eighteen hundreds. Many were seen venturing into the mountains with their shovels and gear and never came out. They all wanted to find that illusive treasure said to be left by the early Native Americans or a gold vein found in deep crevices, tunnels and under huge boulders. If you grow up here, as a kid, the talk of finding a treasure or an old map leading to one is a temptation that’s hard to ignore.”
Sophie couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you telling me you used to hunt for buried treasure?”
“Absolutely.”
She laughed. “And...were you successful?”
“In a word, no. I found some cave art, which included arrows I swore pointed to the gold. But I never saw one glimmer. Just cactus and rocks.”
“I’ll bet it was fun to try.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“This was a great dinner,” she said, again looking out to where the last light of the day filtered through the mountains. “Thanks for inviting me. I could sit here and enjoy that view forever.”
“So could I,” he returned, looking directly at Sophie.
“So you never did answer me seriously,” she said. “What time are we leaving?”
“I was serious about waking you but okay, if you’d rather use an alarm, set it for six.”
“Done. This is going to be fun.”
* * *
With Clay at the controls, the helicopter left the ground heading west. It rose to a height that still allowed them to see the terrain and watch it change from green grass and towering pines to red rocks, cactus and sage. Then back up and over a mountain pass to find pine and oak trees again. They flew over valleys, saw rivers and tributaries as the water flowed at the bottom of deeply cut gorges and into green valleys. But even though the desert was sparse by comparison to the green mountain peaks, it had a romantic draw all its own.
All too soon the cattle and the cowboys who herded them began to appear. It looked like a massive undertaking.
“They bring them all into camp and sort them by sex and age,” Clay said over the headset. “The younger ones receive our brand. The two-year-old bulls are what I came to see. I want to add about fifty to the breeding plan. The rest will be taken to market.”
A few minutes later, Clay set the chopper down near what appeared to be the central branding operation. White pipe and steel fencing held hundreds of cattle, with more on the way. Together he and Sophie exited the helicopter and walked toward the center of the operation. Clay approached two men standing at the fence. Handshakes and greetings were exchanged, and Clay introduced them to Sophie. Then he lost himself in a discussion of the two-year-old bulls and Sophie was glad to stand back and watch. He was in his element. How he managed to pull on a suit and tie and look like a businessman, convincing people who didn’t know him he’d just walked off Wall Street, she didn’t know. This was the real Clay: all about horses and cattle and working the land. More comfortable on a green-broke horse than in a limo.
Around one o’clock, Clay reappeared and found his way to where she sat near a huge campfire. “How about some lunch?”
“Sounds good to me.”
They walked back to the chopper and Clay hoisted the woven basket Rose had prepared for them from the back.
“I wonder what Rose sent.”
“I don’t know but it will be delicious whatever it is,” she said.
“How about we go over there next to the river. I see a flat rock in the shade.”
“Perfect.”