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Just then, Dad pokes his head in. “Can I borrow you for a second, Colt?”
I duck out. “What’s up?”
“Wagons are rolling out in about fifteen minutes. Are you and Chance up for hitting the trail?”
“I am. But he’s not.” I frown. “It’s nothing serious, but it looks like I’ll have to bring him home in the trailer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dad says, patting me on the back. “Dr. Vitello knows her stuff. I’m sure Chance will be fine.”
It stinks that time with Riley will have to wait, but I can’t just leave him here while I ride off with the excursion. I’ll have to catch her before the wagons depart to explain everything.
“I’ll call your mom to let her know what’s going on,” Dad says. “See you soon, son.”
I nod and enter Chance’s stall, my good mood deflating fast. “How long will he need to rest?” I ask.
Dr. Vitello runs her hand over Chance’s flank and bobs her head in thought. “A few days, most likely, but I’d give it a week before saddling him up, to be on the safe side.” Chance nuzzles her arm as she packs up her veterinary bag. “It doesn’t seem to be bothering him now, without a saddle or extra weight, but if he starts limping or shows signs of discomfort, we can get him on some muscle relaxants or set him up for an acupuncture appointment. Who’s his regular vet?”
“Dr. Freeman.”
“Want me to give him a call?”
I brush my fingers through Chance’s mane and shake my head. “Nah. We’ll keep an eye on him. I’m sure he just overexerted himself.”
“Good to see you, Chance,” she says, slipping him a sugar cube. “Colton.”
I tip my hat to her. “Thanks for coming.”
The door to Chance’s stall latches closed behind her. Dr. Vitello’s laugh echoes through the stable as Mack walks her out to her truck.
I brush my hand down Chance’s muzzle and rest my forehead against his. “I’m sorry you got hurt saving Riley, but thank you for being there for me. I owe you big-time.”
Chance sniffs at my hands, looking for more treats. When I flip them over to show him they’re empty, I happen to glance at my watch. It’s already 2:00 p.m. Dr. Vitello was here longer than I thought.
Oh crap.
It’s two o’clock.
“Be right back,” I call to Mack as I race past him on my way out of the stable. My heavy work boots thud against the dusty lane that leads toward the center of Fort Bellows. I dart between two groups of tourists, dodge a stray chicken, and twist out of the way to narrowly escape a collision with a wobbly toddler. Dad’s high-pitched whistle pierces the air just before I round the corner.
My boots skid to a stop in front of the general store. There are more tourists and little kids here now than when Riley and I rode in a little over an hour ago. Where did they all come from?
As if to answer my question, a woman to my right holds up a bright orange flag and says, “Junior Adventurers Troop Eight, eyes on me.”
I bob and weave through the crowd, but I don’t seem to get any closer to the wagons. Or to Riley. With growing frustration, I watch the supply wagon pull through the open gates, the caboose of our wagon train. My lungs burn in my chest from sprinting here from the stable but also from the sinking feeling that Riley has just slipped through my fingers.
“Dammit,” I huff, kicking up a cloud of dirt.
CHAPTER 41
Riley
I PULL A Caleb and doze off during our trek across the plains. Exhaustion from the past few days has finally caught up with me and the gentle rocking of the wagon lulls me off to a deep sleep. Mom rouses me when we reach our campsite for the night.
“Riley, sweetie. We’re here.”
It’s hard to pry my eyes open, but when I do, I find Mom standing beside me, studying me. “Maybe we should’ve taken a van back to Darby,” she says, running her hand over my forehead as if she expects me to be running a fever.
“I’m fine, Mom. Just tired.” My mouth is cottony. “And thirsty.” I scoot to my backpack, pull out my water bottle, and take a long swig.
