Page 186 of We Drank the Dawn

Cooper looked down at his plate, his brow furrowing as if what I’d said caused him to think very hard about something. He stabbed at the last bite on his plate. “Well, maybe…”

Peter lifted his head, giving Cooper his attention.

Cooper shrugged, refusing to look either of us in the face. “No pressure to accept at all, but, uh, I could take a couple pictures for you—if you want.”

Peter’s brows rose. “With your camera?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’ve only ever taken pictures of nature, but I could try people. ”

Mentally, I ran to keep up. Did Cooper take pictures? Did he have a nice camera or something? Knowing I wasn’t up to speed, Peter explained, “So, Cooper is an eighty year-old man trapped in a thirty-one year-old’s body.”

I got the full rundown on Cooper’s contradictory hobbies while he laughed and protested. He also gave plenty of jabs about Peter’s desk job not mixing with his double life as a cowboy. The two of them had a grand old time poking fun at each other. I thought Cooper’s full, hearty laugh was so contagious, that I couldn’t help but giggle along. Yet watching them made my heart ache a little.

Peter was going to miss Cooper terribly when we went home.

I wondered what would happen to their friendship—if it would span miles or fizzle out.

Finally, we cycled back to the topic at hand, deciding to have a tiny photoshoot in the morning before we headed out. Cooper instructed us not to expect much because the pictures might suck.

“Where do you want me to take them?” Cooper asked.

A brilliant idea popped into my head with such ferocity that I gasped. “Oh! What about the ridge?”

Cooper looked impressed by that idea.

“Remember where you took me on that trail ride? What about right there—overlooking the horizon as the sun is rising?”

A smile inched onto Cooper’s face. “So…you want to saddle up horses, when it’s still dark in the morning, to go on a trail that’s only accessible on foot in order to take pictures in front of a sunrise?”

I cringed. “Okay, sorry. That’s probably more than you bargained for.”

He shook his head. “It sounds fun. I say we do it.”

A thousand butterflies took off in my stomach when my eyes lifted to the sky.

Cooper’s soft “whoa” as he pulled back on Sprinkles’ reins directed us to stop.

We had arrived just in time.

Strands of light pushed against the twilight over our heads, ribbons of color rolling over the darkness. The moon and stars lingered, clinging to their fading lights, as the sun prepared to steal the show. The ridge itself was nothing noteworthy in terms of altitude, but the way it opened up to the sky, the way the hill caressed the horizon—it felt infinite.

Wrapping Praline’s reins around the horn, I slipped to the ground. Peter and Cooper did the same. In a trance, I walked forward, all the way to the edge, where the ground plummeted into the fields below. Kerr County was in the heart of the Texas hill country, and the view stole the breath from my lungs.

The ground rolled through the distance like endless cresting waves, the vegetation brushed with brown and orange and yellow as the summer colors finally drifted away.

Peter strode up from behind, his arms banding around me—one over my stomach, the other over my chest. I leaned back and tucked my head beneath his chin.

“It’s perfect, Peter,” I whispered.

For a few moments, we drank in the arrival of dawn.

Finally, I said, “Tell me what I haven’t noticed yet.”

I let my eyes flutter closed, wanting to experience his perspective.

“There’s birds—going back and forth over there.” He pointed to the left where a chorus of morning greetings flitted from tree to tree. “Cooper is already taking pictures.” Sure enough, a very soft shutter sound pushed into my awareness. “A soft breeze is tugging on our clothes and rustling the trees.” The hem of my sweater flapped, and a soft roar of clapping leaves rushed into my mind. “The dew is so heavy up here that our shoes are already wet.” I wiggled my toes to find my socks damp. “I smell autumn—like leaves and pine and wet dirt and maybe childhood?” He gave a soft chuckle as I took a deep breath, the fresh air chilly in my nose. The scent was nostalgic—exactly how he described it. “And it's warmer here than it is on the trail. The sun’s first rays are already doing their job.” He chuckled softly again. “And your heartbeat is wild—right here”—he swiped a hand over my heart—“because you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” With my eyes still closed, my face broke with the biggest smile.