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Riley stirs and opens her eyes. She blinks up at me. “Morning,” she says, letting her forehead flop against my chest.
“Morning.”
“This is going to sound screwy, but that was the best night’s sleep I’ve had since leaving California.”
“Seriously?” I ask, brushing the hair back from her face with the tips of my fingers.
“Seriously. I have this thing where I have trouble sleeping anywhere that’s not my own bed. It usually takes me hours to fall asleep.” Riley stretches like a cat beside me and then sits up.
Right then, my stomach lets out a low, hollow rumble.
“Do you have a monster in there?” Riley pokes me in the belly.
I grab her hand and weave my fingers through hers. “No, but I’m starved.”
“Do you have anything else to eat in that saddlebag of yours?” Riley asks as she stands. The dawn is still dark gray and it’s hard to make her out in the dimness. A moment later, coals spark as she stirs them up with our poker stick before tossing on some kindling to get the fire going again.
“I have a little more hot cocoa mix and not much else.” My joints creak as I stand. I shake my legs out and twist my torso to stretch.
“Cocoa’s not a bad way to start the day, although I could really go for a venti triple shot caramel macchiato,” she says.
“Prairie Princesses,” I tease. “I’ll buy you a venti shot triple caramel maraschino when we get back.”
Riley grins at me. “First off, it’s a date. And secondly, let me do the ordering when we get to the coffee shop, because what you just said”—she shakes her head—“makes no sense. A twenty-shot caramel cherry isn’t a thing.”
“It could be a thing. We could make it a thing.”
“That can never be a thing.”
“It could be our thing,” I say, grinning back.
Riley walks over to her backpack and pulls open the zipper. “I have six protein bars, four packets of peanut butter, and a handful of honey packets I nabbed at the hotel breakfast. Oh, and two MREs.”
“You have MREs?” I ask, surprised and impressed by her again. Out of the two of us, she was way more prepared for our predicament than I was. And here I was, thinking she was a complete greenhorn when we first met.
“It was a total impulse purchase. I spotted them in the checkout line at Ranch & Rustler, displayed next to giant tubs of udder cream and travel sized cans of WD-40. I wasn’t entirely sure what the food situation was going to be like on the excursion, so I grabbed a few to make sure I wouldn’t starve. I wish I’d tossed more than two in my backpack yesterday. I have a bunch more in my luggage back at the fort.”
“You’re pretty awesome,” I say, wrapping my arms around her.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” she replies.
CHAPTER 39
Riley
THINGS I HAVE discovered in the past fifteen minutes:
Riding a horse is not as easy as it looks.
I may have underestimated the awesomeness of bacon.
Colton Walker’s strong, silent-type vibes are genetic.
While my feet and I were initially relieved to see Captain Walker riding to our rescue with a pair of horses to carry us the rest of the way, my butt and thighs would much rather I had walked. Aside from Colton’s Rescue Race move yesterday, this is only the second time I’ve ridden horseback and it’s painfully uncomfortable. Here I am bobbing about in the saddle, while next to me, Colton and his dad are smooth and relaxed riders.
I gnaw off a bit of the bacon Captain Walker brought for us and savor the satisfying mixture of crispy meat and fat. I’m not sure if it tastes especially good because I haven’t eaten anything remotely delicious (besides Colton’s hot cocoa) in almost twenty-four hours or if it’s because my body needs a hefty dose of salt, protein, and fat. All I know is that it’s satisfying. No wonder the pioneers ate this stuff all the time.
Captain Walker hasn’t said much since he met up with us. Like Colton, his chiseled jaw is perpetually tensed and his eyes are watchful and serious. I’d like to believe that underneath his stony exterior, he has hidden depths like Colton. Do they share the same wry sense of humor and knack for telling tall tales?
