To wrap
up the 2013 season, the captain and I took a decidedly different approach to
our typical water-themed travel routine.
We left Let's Dance at a favorite boat yard in Thunderbolt, Georgia for
a bit of paint and polish (not to mention the hopeful repair of that pesky
bilge pump leak) and set our course south-southwest for Texas. By car.
We were
invited by my brother, David, and his wife Leslye, to join them and my mother
for a few days at their ranch......a mere 3 hours south of Houston down Highway
59 towards Mexico and about a million miles from our sea-going lifestyle. It was great!
The Lucas
family, Leslye's ancestors, have been faithful stewards of this part of south
Texas for generations, but it is only within the last five years or so that she
and David have fashioned a spectacular "camp" here for themselves,
their family and friends. Through David's diligent efforts the ranch was added to the impressive National Register of Historic Places -- one of only three ranches in all of Texas to be so honored! So it was with
great pleasure that Bill and I exchanged our Topsiders for virtual cowboy boots
and tried on the ranching lifestyle.
The Camp
at Fair Oaks Ranch has every amenity that the modern cowboy could want -- and
then some!
The house
is super cool, but the toys are really worth writing home about. David's idea of relaxation these days is to
hop up into his John Deere tractor, crank up the radio and the A/C, engage the
cutting blade and mow down wide swaths of mesquite trees and other
underbrush. He follows up this first
broad brush step with a turn in his Bobcat (also air conditioned, of course) to
pull the downed trees and vines away from the stately live oaks that surround
the camp. A final trim with a hand saw
and a once obscured ancient oak is revealed.
Beautiful!
For an
afternoon's diversion we took a ride on the Polaris. It looked like a Texas-style Hatari adventure
as David and my mom took the front seat, Leslye settled in the back seat and
Bill and I literally rode shotgun from the elevated, open rear bench seat. (Said shotgun never made it out of its
quilted jacket and the separate box of bullets was never opened, but I felt
quite like Annie Oakley nevertheless!)
We took off from the Camp in chilly and overcast weather for our safari.
We scared
up some whitetail deer, a few coveys of quail and some turkeys, but the real
surprise was a lonely, overgrown graveyard on the sandy banks of a creek. Here rested
the remains of two cowboys -- buried in 1878 and each only in their early
20's. Hmmm. A property dispute? Drunken brawl? Perhaps a quarrel over a lover? Rustled cattle? We will never know, of course,
but it's interesting to speculate on the tragedy that ended these young lives.
The next
afternoon we had a short history lesson as we explored the rustic compound of
clapboard buildings that earlier Lucas generations called home. Richard M. was the first Lucas to arrive in
Goliad County. As an Officer of the
Guard in England, he'd received a land grant in eastern Canada from Queen
Victoria. Apparently he found this area
to be a bit chilly for his tastes, so he traded the grant, sight unseen, for
one in south Texas. Mistaking the Blanco
Creek for the Blanco River, Richard settled his young family, including two
year old Cyrus, in the current location in 1859. What' s the big deal about a few hundred
miles in Texas, after all?
Our field
trip included exploration of Bo's house (grand-daughter-in-law of Richard M.
and grandmother of Leslye) with its sagging porches and peeling white
paint. Bereft of the love and laughter
of earlier times, you could still imagine the activity in the kitchen house and
the clang of the dinner bell as it called the hands in for supper.
The small
wooden building that Leslye's dad used as an office yielded more treasure. There, a safe with no combination and who
knows what wonders within, stood tilted amid piles of aged newspapers and
yellowed ledgers. We happened upon an
unlocked, tin cash box filled with crinkled letters, too. Most were written in the late 1890's and
addressed to Cyrus B. Lucas -- far and away the most colorful of the clan and
great grandfather to the current crew.
More than one unsolved family mystery came to light in these wonderful
old letters that will no doubt lead to hours of friendly debate and possibly a
little more genealogical digging.
As we left the fenced compound, we were greeted by some curious horses.....I made friends with one or two, but Lacy, the cute, but citified Westie, wasn't too sure of their intentions and chose to keep her distance.
We had a grand adventure, but all too soon it was time to pull off our virtual boots and Stetsons, toss our saddle bags into the Acura and head home. This ad hoc bovine committee formed roadside to bid us safe travels!
Thanks, Leslye and David, for sharing the good life
of the Camp at Fair Oaks Ranch!
All
together now.....
The stars at night,
Are big and bright!
Deep in the heart of Texas!!
Let's Dance......Carol
and Bill
