Eleven by Karen Rodgers Read Free Book Online Page B

code into a
numerical panel embedded in the stacked Texas flagstone gateway.
The huge iron gate slowly swung open. As we drove over the cattle
guard, I noticed the ornate, decorative wrought iron arch above us.
The same ranch brand he wore on his belt buckle was set into an
oval in the middle of the archway.
    In the distance, I could see a large
house at the end of a winding trail that snaked up the highest part
of the outstretched land of brush, yucca, and mesquite. Although
the house was ranch style in architecture, its posh appropriations
contradicted any notion of a tough life out on the range. This spot
in the middle of nowhere was indeed a welcome oasis.
    The exterior of the home was made the
same rough-hewn Texas flagstone that I had seen on the gateway
entrance. The front porch was lined with rocking chairs and had a
large cedar swing on one end that looked out onto the spread of
land. Twelve thick cedar posts bolstered the length of the
porch.
    As we approached our destination, the
rough caliche road was soon replaced by a smooth concrete drive.
The driveway curved in front of the estate and to the side where
there was a large parking area bordered by cedar hitching posts.
The wide concrete path meandered behind, to the back entrance of
the house. We pulled into the large garage and the door closed
behind us.
    He invited me to make myself at home
while he unloaded the truck. I walked inside, through the mudroom
where there was a mingled scent of dirt, hay, and leather. There
were several pairs of boots lined up in front of benches and wooden
locker stalls. There were a couple of bootjacks and several pairs
of work gloves scattered along the benches. A mélange of Carhartt
jackets, ropes, and hats hung along the wall.
    A large restroom on the left side of
the hallway featured a triple vanity and several large hampers. It
also had a large shower that was perfect for cleaning up after a
long day of working cattle.
    From what I had seen so far, I had the
feeling his mother must have had quite a bit to do with the design
of this house. This must have been her carefully thought out
attempt at making sure the rough and tumble men in her life didn’t
mess up the rest of the house. She was a wise woman.
    I made my way down the hallway that
opened up into the kitchen. It was complete with every modern
convenience. The appliances were concealed among the maple
cabinetry. Even the double refrigerator blended into the design
with matching wood panels. There was a huge island in the middle of
room with a solid, dark granite slab. I think the island alone may
have been bigger than my entire kitchen. It had a full sink and
counter-top grill, over which hung a large copper vented hood. The
door to the formal dining room could be seen at the opposite end of
the kitchen.
    I continued to walk through the right
side of the kitchen and went around the corner of a doorway which
opened up into a vast great room. The room was lofty with dark,
massive timber scissor trusses supporting the vaulted pine plank
ceiling. The hardwood floors matched the wood above. The opening of
the fireplace was nearly six feet tall and just as wide, with a
dark timber mantle adorning the Texas flagstone that was stacked
all the way to the top of the room. Ornate wooden staircases with
wrought-iron banisters wound around the sides and back of the
fireplace, leading to the second level. The entire perimeter of the
great-room was surrounded by a railed landing that led to the
multiple rooms upstairs.
    Beautifully woven rugs graced the
floors of the great room, which was furnished with soft leather
couches and over-sized chairs. A blazing fire was roaring in the
fireplace. The logs crackled and popped, lending warmth to the
room. I recognized the scent of the fire. It wasn’t the familiar
Texas mesquite, but rather the spicy fragrance of pinon pine that
wafted through the air.
    The South wall of the room was paned
glass that went from floor to ceiling. The view