"We get all the traffic we want at home, so we stay off the big highways," one man said. "Where y'all goin'?"

"Down to Nocona for a couple or three days. Anything going on that way?" Billy Lee asked.

"Traffic is bad. We passed two pickup trucks." The man laughed at his own joke and slapped his wife on the back.

She laughed with him.

The men went to the other side of the bridge to see how things looked to the east. The ladies gathered around me.

"So, y'all going to Nocona? There ain't much shopping in that little town. Got a good western-wear store and a couple of specialty gift stores and an antiques store, and that's about it. But then, traveling the way we do, there ain't any extra room to take it home, anyway. Sometimes I think this man of mine started this way of travel just so I couldn't shop."

"But don't you love it?" I asked.

She whispered into my ear, "It's the best thing since microwave ovens. I just have to give him a hard time now and then. I get so excited every time he plans a trip, you'd think I was a little kid."

"I can believe it. This is my first time to ride," I whispered back.

"That's not your husband? Y'all look like you been ridin' together for years," she said.

"No, we're just very, very good friends."

"Then, honey, you'd better wake up and smell the bacon frying. It's serious when a feller shares his bike with a woman"

"Really?"

"You'll have a ring on your finger by this time next year, or I'll give you my bike," she said.

"I might come lookin' for it" I smiled.

"You won't have to. I'll park it in your front yard. Where do you live?" she asked.

"Broadway Street, Tishomingo, Oklahoma."

"I know that town. Love the ride up through the country to get there"

"I'll be looking for that bike."

"You won't never see it, honey," one of the other women said. "She's that good"

"I really am. Trust me" She nodded toward Billy Lee and the others.

We mounted up and rode off, all three of the other couples waving at us. Those motorcycle folk were a friendly lot, and the mommas riding on the backs weren't a bit skinnier than me. If I had their names and addresses, I'd definitely send them an invitation to our Christmas dinner.

After we crossed the bridge, we came to a T in the road. A bullet-pocked sign said if we turned right, we'd travel twentyone miles to Nocona. Billy Lee turned that way, and the ride took us through gently rolling hills. At times I could see the river over to the right, but most of the time the view was of Angus cows, oil wells, and those big round bales of hay. We came up to another T in the road, and the signs pointed to the right to Spanish Fort and to the left for Nocona. I figured we couldn't be far from the motel at that point and wondered what on earth Billy Lee had planned, since Nocona didn't have much shopping. I was expecting to drive right into a small town somewhat like Jefferson, but he took a gravel road to the left and slowed down considerably. Ten minutes later he pulled into the driveway of a log cabin set on the edge of a big lake.

He got off the cycle, removed his helmet, and held out a hand to help me.

"We're here? Look at those ducks! And that boat," I said breathlessly. The view was spectacular: water, sky, and grass all in Crayola colors. "Who lives here?"

"I do. It's my place, Trudy. We've worked so hard these past several weeks, and we had such a good time in Jefferson together, I thought maybe you'd like a few days of rest, and maybe we could do some fishing."

"This is almost as wonderful as the surprise in Jefferson. Can Igo fishing with you?"

"Of course." He grinned.

"And whose boat is that? Can we rent it and putt around the lake in it? Do you really own this place? Let's go inside and take a look at it. You amaze me, Billy Lee. You've got more sides than a diamond ring."

"And you've got more questions than a two-year-old."

"You love it. You know you do," I teased.

"Okay, I admit it. I do love it when you are all happy and ask a million questions. The place really is mine. I bought it ten years ago. Got to coming down here to Nocona on my bike because the scenery is nice and the traffic is light. One morning I was reading a newspaper, saw a picture of this cabin, and called the Realtor. The boat is mine too. And, yes, you can go fishing with me, and, yes, we can take it around the lake after supper tonight"

I clapped my hands. "Would you look at that water? It looks like a sheet of glass, it's so still. Can we come here often? What does it look like in the winter? Do you have a fireplace in there? I think I see a chimney."

Without answering any questions, he opened the back door. The kitchen, living room, and dining room all ran together to form a combination great room with natural log walls. A big soft burgundy leather sofa took up the west wall, a galley kitchen the east one, with a table for two shoved up against a glass wall broken only by sliding-glass doors that led out onto a deck overlooking the lake. I was already planning to sit in one of those Adirondack chairs out there to watch the sunrise. Plush rugs were scattered haphazardly on oak hardwood floors, with the biggest one in front of the fireplace.

No wonder Billy Lee had fallen in love with the cabin. It was a perfect hideaway.

"Bedroom is in here. It's small, but it's got its own bathroom," he said.

I stopped at the door and looked inside. A patchwork quilt covered the queen-size bed, and another neatly folded quilt was stretched across the foot of the mattress. A rocking chair placed under the window to catch the setting sun had green corduroy cushions tied on the back and seat. A small chest of drawers held a lamp and scented candle. The bathroom offered a shower above a tub and a vanity with a mirror.

Guilt washed over me. "Billy Lee, you take this room, and I'll sleep on the sofa. I could even sleep on the deck in one of those oversized chairs."

He shook his head. "No, you will not. No arguing. I'll win, and I'm not just being nice, either. We've got time to take the boat out and do some fishing. Might catch supper."

"Let's go. And thank you" I'd remembered my manners at the last minute. It seemed I had said those words to Billy Lee more in one summer than I'd ever said them to anyone in my whole life.

"No thanks necessary."

Riding on a Harley took second place to relaxing on the pontoon boat and watching a red fishing bobble dance on the still waters. Billy Lee insisted on smearing more sunblock on my arms when I took off the overshirt; then he concentrated on fishing. I hadn't cast a line into the water in more than twenty-five years. Daddy used to take me along once in a while, back before I found out dating was more fun than spending the day out on Lake Texoma with a fishing pole.

"I love your idea of rest and relaxation," I said.

"Do you like catfish?" he asked.

"Love it."

"I was hoping you'd say that, because here comes supper." He pulled back on the line and brought in a nice big catch.

"How'd you know?"

"He's been teasing my line for several minutes. It was about time for him to take the bait."