dream trip across the United States, visiting all those crazy tourist attractions like the world’s largest ball of twine and the biggest iron skillet. I saw it in a movie once, but I never had the time to do it myself. After the falling out I had with my family, I wanted to take a mindless, fun trip.” The drive to LA had been a bucket list item he’d decided to knock off while he tried to sort through his plans.
“Falling out?” Bridgett asked. “What happened?”
Adam gripped the steering wheel tighter. He’d said more than he’d intended.
“Let’s say I didn’t exactly turn out the way my family had expected me to.” He wished he could tell her the whole story. But if he wanted a second chance in Texas, he needed people to accept him as he was today. Not as he used to be. Plus, he couldn’t take the chance on his transformation and whereabouts being leaked to the media. Not that he thought that was Bridgett’s intention, but sometimes people let things slip. No, The Snake needed to stay in the past...for now.
“Understood,” Bridgett said. “It’s none of my business, really. What was your first stop?”
“I haven’t made it there yet. I grew up near the world’s largest Igloo cooler. I guess you could say I started my trip with a freebie. My first stop was supposed to be the Toilet Seat Museum in San Antonio followed by the Cadillac Ranch in Amarillo.”
“Isn’t the Cadillac Ranch the place with the cars sticking halfway into the ground?”
“That’s the one,” Adam nodded.
“I can understand the cars, but a toilet seat museum?”
“This ninety-something-year-old man has turned a thousand plus toilet seats into works of art over the last fifty years. If he can create it, I can take the time to see it.”
“I’m sensing an art theme with you.”
“I love art,” Adam declared. “Tell you what. If I go to San Antonio, I’ll take you with me and you can see it for yourself.” Bridgett’s face remained stoic. No laugh or smile. Just a continued stare past the windshield. “Was it something I said?”
“No,” Bridgett sighed. “Something I promised myself and Mazie earlier.”
“I’m a good listener, if you want to talk.”
“I promised myself to be free and live more, so yes, I’d love to join you and see toilet seats. But, I promised Mazie I wouldn’t rush into anything with you. What she doesn’t know—and I’m not sure why I’m telling you this—is that I’m planning to leave town, anyway. As soon as I find a restaurant that I can afford, or one of the places I’ve applied at hires me I’m out of here. Whether I see toilet seats with you or leave on my own I risk being strangled by my friend. I’m trying to figure out if that’s worse than letting myself down by staying put.”
Her voice held a twinge of humor, but Adam sensed the weight of the world was on her shoulders as she contemplated her next step in life. But leaving home? He could relate and it didn’t sit well with him for some reason. He should stay out of it. It wasn’t his place, but he found himself unable to resist trying to reason with her.
“If I may be so bold to offer one piece of advice, and I learned this lesson the hard way: Follow your heart, but don’t burn your bridges. It’s not always easy to go home again.”
Adam turned to see Bridgett watching him closely. A shiver ran up his spine. Suddenly he felt exposed.
“Are things bad with your family?” Her tone was warm, not a hint accusatory.
Unable to speak without his voice cracking, he only nodded. Bridgett reached out and laid her hand on his arm.
“I understand more than you realize,” she said softly.
Covering her hand with his, he drove the rest of the way to the ranch in silence.
Bridgett was a mess. Sitting with Adam’s hand over hers, she felt at ease one minute and nervous the next. Who knew one person could hold so much power over her emotions, especially someone she’d just met.
A hint of raw vulnerability had emerged in Adam when he’d owned up to letting his family down. Despite his casual tone, his eyes had betrayed him and held a sense of deep regret. An expression Bridgett knew well—it was identical to the one Ruby wore each time they had crossed paths these past few weeks. Her mother had asked the same of her as Adam wanted from his family. A second chance. Her mother’s lies had broken the trust they’d shared. No matter what her mother said, Bridgett had difficulty accepting that she was finally telling the truth. She wanted to forgive her mother, but she hadn’t figured out how. So how could she possibly tell Adam not to give up without coming across as an absolute hypocrite?
“Turn left here.” Bridgett rubbed the back of her neck, rolling her shoulders. She’d always loved coming out to the Bridle Dance Ranch. Not only had she grown up with the Langtry men, their father had taken time out of his busy schedule to teach Bridgett to ride. And it had been no easy feat thanks to her fear of horses back then. Joe had passed away two years ago, but Bridgett would never forget his kindness and ability to turn a scared little girl into an accomplished rider.
“It’s magnificent.” Adam peered over the steering wheel and up at the wrought-iron Bridle Dance lettering balanced between two rearing bronze horses on either side of the dirt road. “I’d love to know what foundry they used for those horses.”
“Foundry?” Bridgett asked.
“The place where they create the mold and cast the bronze.”
“Ah, okay.” Toilet seats, cars stuck in the dirt and now sculptures...the man definitely had a passion for art...if you could call toilet seats and cars art.
“My sister studied sculpting before she got married.”
“She doesn’t sculpt anymore?”
“No, her ex-husband almost killed her and brutally broke both her hands. She’s never been able to return to it.” The words may have flowed freely from Adam’s mouth, but his jaw flexed when he spoke, cautioning Bridgett to leave the painful subject alone. “Are those pecan trees?”
Rows of large trees with weeping branches formed a thick canopy above the entrance road, some limbs still heavy with fruit, others almost bare. Men gently shook the branches with a long padded pole as ripe nuts fell to the ground. An older Ford tractor towed a bright red harvester, sweeping the closely shorn grass and gathering the nuts for transport to the pecan cleaner.
“Yes. The Langtrys may use some modern equipment to gather the nuts, but they shake the trees the old-fashioned way. And if anyone wants to pitch in for an hour or two, they’re given a ten-pound burlap sack filled with fresh pecans to take home.”
“Calling this place a ranch is an understatement.” Adam slowly continued past the white-railed fencing that surrounded the pastures and led to the showcase of the quarter-of-a-million-acre property: the three-story log castle—at least that was how Bridgett had referred to it as a kid. The house even had a log turret on the back.
“Pull off to the right and take the driveway to the
