10. Bryn
TEN
Bryn
Almost to the aquifer.
I’d been out this way quite a few times…but it had taken me a long time to actually find the source of my unique little frogs. This specific spring was hidden well enough that I’d not been able to find it on maps, feeding only a few properties in a remote corner of the Hill Country.
The land had leveled out into a shallow basin ringed by limestone outcrops, cedar giving way to bald cypress and sycamore.
Bald cypress was a classic tell—the sign for permanent water in Central Texas, like a gateway to spring-fed creeks, showing you a place where the water never dries up even in severe drought.
I’d been chasing this exact growth pattern in my head for weeks, and there it finally was: a stand of cypress knees poking up out of the shallow water on either bank, roots gnarled and pale against the dark mud.
The air had changed too—cooler and damp, a mineral smell underneath the green.
Maidenhair fern clung to the wet limestone where water seeped straight out of the rock face, delicate and impossible anywhere drier.
That was the real tell, more than the cypress: ferns needed constant humidity, not just occasional wet feet.
Wherever this water came from, it never stopped.
Stetson moved ahead of me, scanning the rock face.
“Cave system’s gotta be feeding this,” he said. “Water’s too cold and too clean to just be seepin’ through dirt.”
“Karst geology. Limestone dissolved over time, water carves through it.” I followed the line of the rock, looking for anything darker than shadow. “If there’s a cave mouth, it’ll be low, probably half-hidden by brush.”
We found it twenty minutes later—a narrow gap behind a curtain of ferns and vines, barely wide enough for one person, cool air rolling out.
“Natural AC,” I breathed. “It’s right here.”
Stetson crouched at the opening, flashlight already out. “Careful. Don’t know how deep it runs—”
“I’m fine,” I said. “I just need to…”
I wedged myself through the gap, popped out on the other side—
Fell face first into the water.
“Shit,” Stetson said, his voice echoing through the gap. “You okay?”
“It’s only about a foot deep,” I muttered back. “But…obviously watch your step.”
He came in after me a moment later, following Buck—who seemed thrilled to have found an exciting new place, bless him. The dog splashed in the water, ruining any chances I had of catching the frogs by surprise.
But…I guess I did that when I fell in myself.
Couldn’t blame the dog.
“Damn it, Bryn,” Stetson said, reaching out to help me up. I took his arm and got to my feet, soaked in cold spring water. “You’ve gotta stop doing that. Is it your ankle?”
“No, I’m just clumsy,” I said, shaking my head. “My mother always said my own carelessness would be the death of me.”
He chuckled. “Smart woman.”
“You don’t say.”
We both went quiet, looking around the cave.
It was mostly dark inside—the only other light coming from a hole in the ceiling up above, where sunlight filtered through a layer of dripping ferns.
The sound of flowing water filled up the whole space, bubbling from multiple sources in the limestone, the water perfectly clear.
“This is…” Stetson paused. “Never even knew it was here.”
“It’s amazing, isn’t it? The little nooks and crannies of the world, miracles hiding in plain sight.” I glanced over at him. “If you’re ever looking—the cypress trees and the ferns are a dead giveaway.”
“For what?”
I grinned. “Amphibians.”
I grabbed the flashlight clipped to my belt loop and and switched it on, shining the beam around the cave. A snake shot off into the darkness when the beam found it, slithering in a fluid S on top of the water.
“Guess we need to watch for reptiles too,” he muttered.
“Most are harmless—and even if they’re venomous, they don’t want anything to do with us,” I said. “We’re the ones in their house, remember?”
“Right…” He swallowed hard. “Don’t like snakes.”
“Very Indiana Jones of you.”
“I try.”
We waded deeper, me leading the way, Stetson watching his steps a little more carefully—with one hand on my back, ready to grab me if I went down. Buck wagged his tail the whole time, eager for the great explore.
“Anything else we should be watching for in here?” he asked.
I shrugged. “Not a lot of danger along this creek system, or at least not much more dangerous than coral snakes or cottonmouths.”
“Comforting.”
I glanced back at him. “Don’t you worry, cowboy. I’ll protect you from the scary snakes.”
I tried to steady my pace a little, quiet my stride in the water. The soundscape was beautiful…I hated disturbing it.
“So what are we looking for here?” he asked.
“Hush,” I said. “Just follow my lead.”
“Bossy.”
“Only seems fair after spending the last three days being told what to do.”
“You liked it.”
“Shh!”
I listened closely…waiting for the sign. Even in this small, dark ecosystem, isolated from the rest of the creek, my frogs would be hard to find—
A single chirp broke through the dripping water, close, echoing off the walls until it seemed to come from three directions at once.
I froze. Stetson froze behind me, hand still at my back.
Another chirp answered it. Then a third, farther back in the cave.
"There," I whispered. "That's them."
I moved the flashlight slowly across the nearest rock shelf. A tiny shape sat pressed against wet limestone, throat pulsing, calling into the dark like it had been doing it for a thousand years with nobody listening.
"Not a satellite population. Not even the pool from yesterday." I could barely keep my voice steady. "This is it. The actual source. Everything downstream comes from right here."
I crouched and let the beam settle instead of sweep. More shapes emerged out of the dark the longer I looked — five, then eight, tucked into cracks and ledges all along the walls.
"They live in here," I said. "Not just breed. Live. Year-round, probably, given the temperature stability."
Stetson crouched beside me, quiet.
“Explains why nobody’s ever found ‘em,” he said. “Nobody comes looking this far back.”
“Well, we just—”
Buck let out a low growl.
Stetson’s head whipped around, his finger going to his lips.
Past the dripping water, past the frogs still calling from every ledge, I heard it: an engine, faint, cutting off somewhere close outside. A truck door. Voices, muffled by rock and distance.
Stetson shut off his flashlight; I followed suit.
Dark swallowed us.
The only light was the glimmer of fern-filtered sun from up ahead, and that sliver of light from the entrance. Someone moved outside; footsteps, more voices.
“Stetson…?” I whispered.
His hand found my arm in the dark, gripping tight, and then he looked over at his dog.
“Buck,” he hissed. “Sit. Stay.”
We stayed crouched and still, water cold around our ankles, and I finally heard the voices clear enough to make out words.
“...gotta be around here somewhere,” a man was saying. “Survey said the flow’s strongest right along this ridge.”
“You sure this is even worth our time?” A younger voice.
“You want that land or not?” the first voice asked.
My eyes darted to Stetson. “Is that…”
“My dad,” he said. “And Cooper.”
Boots crunched against gravel just outside the fern curtain. I held my breath.
“Cave’s gotta be right along here,” Arlo said, his voice a little louder.
“Don’t see no cave,” Cooper said, sounding very bored. “Just brush.”
“Keep lookin’.”
“Lookin’ where? The whole ridge is the same damn rock.”
A pause—then Arlo again, further off now, moving along the wall. “If there’s a cave feedin’ this spring, somebody’s gonna find it eventually. Rather it’s us than some conservation lawyer.”
“Or a frog lady,” I muttered.
Stetson squeezed my arm, hushing me.
“I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with this,” Cooper said, so close to the entrance that he actually cast a shadow across the water.
He moved away a touch, and I exhaled. “This land, the damn creek…plenty of opportunities to make money elsewhere. Could go out to El Paso, work the fields out there instead of dickin’ around in the Hill Country tryin’ to steal from your own kids—”
A snarl. Water splashing. “Watch your fuckin’ mouth.”
Cooper laughed under his breath. “You know what…fuck you, Arlo—”
A thud against the rock, a splash, Cooper’s shadow again, lower this time.
“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” Arlo snarled. “Not you, not any of you boys. I built somethin’ out here before any of you were even born.”
Cooper barked out another, meaner laugh. “You mean three prison sentences—shit—”
He was gasping now, Arlo right up with him, the two of them blocking the light completely. “My daddy’s daddy worked this ground,” Arlo snapped. “I don’t care what Adam’s done with it since, it’s mine by blood, and blood’s the only thing that ever mattered out here.”
Neither of them said anything for a long moment. Then another splash; Cooper was on the ground again.
“There ain’t no cave here,” Cooper finally said, his voice flat. “Just brush and rock. Wastin’ daylight.”
"Survey said—"
"Survey said strongest flow's along the ridge. Don't mean cave." A pause. "East side's got better ground for drilling anyway."
Arlo didn't answer right away. Then, grudging: "Fine. East ridge."
Boots crunched away through brush. A truck door slammed. An engine turned over, faded, gone.
Beside me, Stetson hadn't moved. His jaw was tight enough in the dim light that I could see the muscle standing out even in shadow.
“We need to get out of here before they find it,” he said. “Maybe cover the entrance with some brush.”
I had no idea what to say. “Stetson…I’m so sorry—”
“I’m fine,” he said, voice short. “Let’s get goin’. I can call Gage to come and pick us up down at the road, but we need to move quick so Arlo and Cooper don’t see us.”
I felt small. “Is Cooper okay…?”
“He’s fine,” Stetson muttered, already moving toward the entrance—checking outside before pushing through the fern curtain. “Seen worse. Given worse, probably, knowin’ him.”
He held the ferns back so I could pass, then clicked his tongue at Buck, who shot through after me. Once we were through, he dragged a fallen branch across the gap, tucking it in against the brush already growing there.
“That’ll hold till we can figure out somethin’ better,” he said.
We didn’t say another word as we descended the hill—didn’t want to, not when Arlo and Cooper could still be nearby. In fact, it wasn’t even until we were on the road that he so much as acknowledged anything had happened at all.
“I’m fine,” he muttered to me.
I just nodded.
Didn’t seem like he was fine at all.