It was easy, really. She, Scarlett and Renata had done this countless times before—working through their summer vacation with the ranch’s youngest visitors. Once the kids had settled down, she divvied up the parts.
Banshee looked at the instruments and trotted away from the fire pit. Tandy giggled. “He’s not a music lover,” she explained. “All my shakers, go first, like this.” She shook her wrist twice.
“Then the rhythm sticks do this,” Renata said, raking the long notched sticks up, down and back.
“Hand bells,” Scarlett said, ringing the bell once.
When everyone had played their instrument a few times, they went in order, the sounds producing a steady rhythm.
“I’m going to play now. Don’t stop doing what you’re doing,” Tandy said. She strummed her guitar a few times and started playing. “Sing with me if you know it. But don’t stop playing.”
“Let’s sing a song and make some new friends...” she sang. “Follow my lead now, it’s time to begin.” She strummed her guitar. “My name is Tandy and I like guitar. That’s something about me, now you tell me something about you...” She glanced at Scarlett.
“My name is Scarlett and I like to dance. That’s something about me, now tell me something about you...”
Around the circle they went. Most of the younger kids joined in right away. She didn’t let the older kids’ rolled eyes or dismissive expressions get to her. That age was hard. But with each verse, more voices rang out. Someone started laughing, and that was all it took. The kids always got carried away with what they liked, but that was the point—to get everyone involved and happy. When they got to the last name, they were all singing loud and proud. They all clapped, laughing and using the instruments.
“Now that was some mighty fine tunes,” Woodrow Boone said. “How about we take a break and have some burgers and hot dogs.”
The kids jumped up, dropping the instruments and running toward the dining room. It was such a clear evening the windows and doors of the large hall were propped open. When dinner was over, the tables would be pushed against the walls for line-dancing and two-step lessons. She might have been expected to help out with lessons when she was a teenager, but there was no way she’d line up to have her toes crushed or her shins kicked tonight.
She packed up all the instruments and carried the large basket back toward the main house, staring up at the stars overhead. Texas skies were endless, always. But West Texas was different from the Hill Country. There, the rolling landscape offered a sort of gentle horizon. There was nothing gentle about the land here. It was barren and flat, except when it wasn’t. The eye could trace the seamless line of the horizon then, boom, a craggy-faced cliff appeared.
The Davis Mountains weren’t a vast mountain range when compared with their neighbors, the Chisos Mountains of Big Bend National Park. But they held their own beauty. Deep ravines, dramatic rock formations and ancient layers of vibrant volcanic re
ds painting their jagged faces. It was the minerals in the rock that gave Fire Gorge its name. When the sun set, the sunlight reflected and bounced, setting the rocks of the gorge aflame. It was mesmerizing to see, the sort of beauty only nature could manage. Humbling and awe inspiring, raw and soulful.
She paused, peering into the blue-black at the shadowy edges of the mountains in the distance. It had been a while since Tandy had climbed up to watch it. Banshee, who came trotting to her side, would probably love the hike.
“You know that was rude, right?” she said to the dog. “You didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, leaving that way.”
Banshee cocked his head to the side.
“Yeah, I guess you do have sensitive hearing.” She stooped, rubbing his silky-soft ear. His golden eyes drooped as he leaned his head into her hand. “You’re forgiven.”
“Tandy?” Renata called down from the porch, waving her inside. “We saved you a spot.”
Tandy nodded, carrying the instrument basket up the hill and into the main house and locking it in the equipment closet. Saturday nights were a big production. Uncle Woodrow believed in sending guests off with a warm, fuzzy feeling. The bar was open, the band was live and the dance floor would be in use until the wee hours of the morning.
She leaned against the doors and smiled down at Banshee. This was the first time they’d had quiet, just the two of them, since they’d arrived in Fire Gorge. She knew she’d miss Renata when she headed home. It would be an adjustment, one of many she was making. But she’d be okay. She knew how to be alone—she had years of practice.
“What are you hiding from?” Click’s voice startled her.
“Da-gee!” Pearl announced.
Tandy did her best not to tense. The past couldn’t be undone, but she didn’t want to live there anymore. If he was staying put, as he had every right to do, she had to get a grip. There had to be a way to see him without overreacting. Right now her emotions were all over the place: anger, sadness and...awareness. “Just enjoying the quiet,” she confessed.
It was hard not to appreciate the picture he and his daughter presented. He wore a black button-up shirt, starched jeans, polished boots and a hat that sat just right on his brow. He was, without a doubt, a perfect example of a true cowboy.
Pearl was in his arms, waving at her.
“Tandy,” Click said. “Tandy.” He pointed.
Pearl looked at Click, then pointed at her again.
“Tandy.” Click nodded.
Pearl grunted, leaning away from him—for her.