Page 54
My response is a short grunt. I’m not about to kiss and tell, especially not with him.
“I’m surprised,” he says, apparently deciding that my grunt meant “yes” and not “leave me alone.” “Her being a tourist and you being a townie and all. How’s that going to work?”
Jake’s always been good at swirling up a dust cloud with me, and most of the time I have to hold myself back because he isn’t worth losing my cool over. This time, it doesn’t even register on my radar. I’m the one Riley was kissing this afternoon, not him. And that’s enough for me.
I gather up my grooming tools, say good night to Chance, and head out into the central aisle of the barn. The tack area smells like oiled leather and grain. While I put away my tools, Jake leans against a saddle rack and watches me.
“A few days with her really enough for you, Romeo?” he asks, still trying to get a rise out of me.
I shrug. I’ll take as many days as I can get. “Seems to be enough for you,” I say.
Jake laughs. “We both know you’re nothing like me, Colton.”
Thank god.
“Three more days by my count,” he says.
“What’s it to you?” I ask, curiosity getting the better of me.
Jake pushes off from the saddle rack and rolls his shoulders like he’s exhausted from all the hard work I’ve been doing. “Nothing, man. Nothing, at all.”
I make a quick pit stop at my bunk to freshen up and change into my regular clothes. They aren’t much cooler than the pioneer costume, but at least they’re clean and don’t smell like a barn.
There are a few people milling about, but the daytime tourists have left for the day and most of the overnight guests have headed to their rooms for the night. With the sun set and the fort descending into darkness, there’s really not much to see unless you’re into stargazing.
In order to keep things as authentic as possible, only a few of the buildings have obvious electricity: the museum, Ketcham’s Tavern, Jenkins Cottonwood Hotel, Meg Flander’s Boardinghouse, and the ticket booth. Of course, the staff-only areas are full of modern-day conveniences that run on electricity: televisions, coffeepots, computers, refrigerators, and AC—we don’t tell the guests about the last one, or one of these days, when it’s 100 degrees and 80 percent humidity, someone might start a riot.
Riley’s light is on when I finally make it across Fort Bellows to the hotel. Since there’s only one main road and a few smaller alleys at the fort, there’s really no need for formal names like Main Street or First Avenue. Heck, I’m not even sure this dirt road qualifies as a street or avenue.
Tonight, a few lamps flicker along the lane. Back in the day, they would have been oil lanterns, but for safety reasons, Fort Bellows uses electric versions designed to look authentic. Moths flutter around the dim, yellow light.
I dip in and out of shadows on my way closer to the hotel. Hopefully I haven’t kept Riley waiting too long. My nerves are abuzz as I stand below her window, wondering what tonight will bring. Walking? Talking? Kissing?
I consider hollering up for her, but it’s so quiet out here, I worry that I’ll draw too much attention. Maybe I should try throwing a pebble like she suggested. I dig around in the dirt with the toe of my boot until I find a small stone that’ll work. Palming it, I pull my arm back to toss it up, but before I can release it, Riley’s angry voice filters down from her partially open window.
“How could you do this to me?” Her tone is cold and hard, with a definite edge of simmering anger.
Someone else in Riley’s room responds, but their voice is farther away, so it’s hard to make out who it is.
“And that’s it?” Riley throws up her hands. “You’re just going to shrug and be all, too bad, so sad, sucks to be you?”
Mrs. Thomas steps into view. “Your father and I are trying here.”
“Trying what exactly? To ruin my life? ’Cause from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re succeeding.”
The muggy night air hangs heavy around me. I drop the pebble back to the ground where it lands silently and rolls away, chasing a cricket into the shadows.
Now’s definitely not the time to grab Riley for our after-dinner meetup, but I don’t feel great about bailing on her either. She might need someone to talk to after this epic blowup with her mom.
“I don’t understand why you can’t just accept it and make the best of it, like Caleb.” There’s a hint of exhaustion in her mom’s voice.
“Caleb?” Riley shakes her head. “Caleb is perfectly content to put up with all this because his life isn’t ruined.” Riley’s silhouette darkens the window, with her back facing me. Her arms punch the air as she talks. “Here’s a newsflash, Mom: I hate Nebraska. I hate this stupid pioneer outfit with its stupid giant bonnet and this stupid immersive excursion experience and trying to sleep in a stupid tent in a stupid cot and pretty much everything else about this stupid, miserable excuse for a summer. There’s not a single thing that could make me want to spend another day in this hellhole. Nothing.”
Riley’s mom says something, but I can’t hear it over the pounding of my heart, which thunders in my ears. It’s not that I expected to be her one-and-only reason to like Nebraska, but her words still come at me like a left hook I wasn’t prepared for. Here I was thinking that maybe there was something between us, but now I wonder if I was putting too much stock into what kissing her meant. Maybe I was just a convenient way to pass the time while she’s stuck here.
See, this is why I prefer solitude to people. You can always trust that the prairie doesn’t have any ulterior motives.
I drag my heel back, but before I have a chance to slip away into the shadows, Riley’s face appears at the window. Her tearstained eyes go wide when they land on me.
