MacKenzie-Blackthorn 2 - Fire and Rain - Elizabeth Lowell by Elizabeth Lowell

MacKenzie-Blackthorn 2 - Fire and Rain - Elizabeth Lowell by Elizabeth Lowell

Author:Elizabeth Lowell
Language: bg
Format: mobi
Published: 2011-05-07T19:51:11+00:00


The words rang so clearly in Carla's mind that she was afraid she had spoken them aloud. But Luke's expression didn't change. He continued to watch her with eyes like a cougar's – tawny, intent, deep with things that were impossible to name or speak aloud. Yet like the mountain lion stalking eternity in the rippling canyon shadows, Luke was connected to the intangible, indescribable, indestructible reality of the land itself.

"And like the canyons steeped in sunlight and sage," Luke continued slowly. "Like ancient trails snaking up steep rock wails, wild maize watered by thunderstorms, stone canyons older than human memory. Things that last, all of them. Things with staying power. The land demands it. That's why most people live in cities and look for cheap thrills. It's easier. No staying power required. But they'll never know what it's like to stand and look out over a canyon and feel yourself deeply rooted in the past, with the sunlight of ten thousand days locked in your body and your life branching into the future like the land itself."

Although Luke said nothing more, Carla knew he was thinking of his mother and his aunts and his grandmother, women whom the land had ground to dust and blown away on the relentless canyon winds. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to tell him that the land lived in her soul as it did in his.

"Luke—"

"This is good stew," he said simultaneously, talking over Carla. "I suppose it has a fancy French name."

For a few seconds she fought against the change of subject. Then she looked at Luke's empty plate, freeing herself from the golden intensity of his eyes.

"Boeuf à la campagne," she admitted.

"Country beef, huh? Stew by any other name is still beef and gravy."

Carla blinked at Luke's accurate translation before she remembered that he had a fine arts degree from the University of Colorado. He also had a library of literature and history books that provided him with entertainment more often than the TV programs dragged from the sky by the Rocking M's satellite dish. Yet his western drawl and easy use of cowboy idioms had fooled more than one prospective beef buyer into believing that Luke had the intelligence and sophistication of a pan-fried steak.

"You and Ten are complete frauds, you know," she said. "Cowboys, my foot."

"Why, whatever do you mean, little bit?" Luke drawled, then spoiled it by laughing.

He settled more deeply against the back of the dining room chair, realizing as he did that evenings had become his favorite part of the day, especially when he worked late and had Carla all to himself. He enjoyed her quickness of mind and easy silences and her laughter when he told her fragments of the Rocking M's humorous lore – the dance hall girls and the Sisters of Sobriety watching one another from the corner of their eyes while a half-drunk pet pig sat outside the church, waiting for its completely drunk master to finish wrestling the devil and go home.



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