Hill Country Hero Read Online Free PDF Page B

with a humongous black canine, shedding anddrooling the whole way, was no picnic. But CiCi was tough, and she was determined to make this work—dog snot and all.
    “Hey, Sugar Plum, you want another burger?” she asked during their Sonic Drive-In lunch break. Burgers and dogs didn’t mix but CiCi was a softie when it came to those big brown eyes and silly Newfie grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She handed her traveling companion the last sandwich in the bag, being especially careful with her fingers.
    “Are you ready?” CiCi pulled out of the parking lot and made her way back to I-10. Little did she know that trouble was brewing, or digesting, as the case may be. They hadn’t gone far before the dog’s tummy started to rumble. In hindsight, CiCi realized the second burger had been a terrible mistake.
    Half a dozen stops later, her patience was wearing thin. “No more Sonic for you, missy.” She tapped the dog’s black nose. Sugar Plum responded with a doleful look. “See that sign? It says no rest areas for the next hundred and twenty miles. No getting out. No sniffing, no pooping, no nothing. Do you understand?”
    CiCi’s diatribe was rewarded by a wet doggie kiss across her face. Sometimes she felt like Rodney Dangerfield—she didn’t get no respect, not even from woman’s best friend.
    The flatland of the Texas Gulf coast soon gave way to rolling pastures dotted with native live oak and herds of white-faced Herefords. Shortly before they reached San Antonio, CiCi exited the interstate and headed toward the Texas Hill Country.
    Texas back roads were comparable to many states’ major highways. That was primarily because they had to accommodate a large number of farm and ranch vehicles, pickup trucks and Suburbans—the unofficial vehicle of Texas. Texans liked their roads wide and pothole free.
    CiCi hadn’t gone many miles before the landscape changed again—this time to limestone hills, steep canyons, fresh-water springs, vistas of scrub oak and mesquite and lazy meandering rivers. The Texas Hill Country. However, most Texans didn’t see the area in terms of geology, mineral production or prehistoric upheaval. To them, it was simply a little piece of heaven.
    Back when the state was a republic, the founding fathers decided it was time to settle central Texas and they looked to Europe to entice new residents. They figured if they offered free land, people would come from far and wide. And by gosh, they were right. Seven thousand immigrants from Germany, France, Poland, Czechoslovakia, Switzerland, Den mark, Sweden and Norway came flooding in, bringing a smorgasbord of customs and cultures. But in central Texas, the German traditions had firmly taken root.
    The Hill Country had long been a favorite vacation spot for the Hurst family. Mama loved the wineries and boutiques. CiCi was a fan of the bakeries and the ice cream parlor. And Daddy, dear sweet Daddy with his Harvard education, frequented the local bars. He claimed it was research. His theory was there was no better place to get to know his clientele. Al most every summer until she got married, CiCi made the pilgrimage to New Rothenburg, the heart of the Hill Country.
    She’d no sooner popped a new Trace Adkins CD in the stereo when she spied her turnoff. Sugar Plum was settled down for a nap, taking up a good portion of the front seat.
    Thirty miles down the road, CiCi pulled into a town she knew like the back of her hand. Shiny imports competed with pickups sporting rifle racks for parking spots on the crowded main street.
    The sidewalks were packed with tourists, intent on immersing themselves in Bavarian culture—Texas style. CiCichecked out the hordes packing the stores and decided to skip the visit to her favorite ice cream parlor. Blue Belle butter pecan was one of her weaknesses, but today she’d have to pass. Considering Sugar Plum’s delicate stomach, it would probably be smarter to go straight to the camp. An ominous rumble came