Hour four.We’ve made it through Montana and into Idaho. The landscape has flattened out, endless stretches of nothing broken up by the occasional farm.
I’ve tried three times to start a conversation. Each time, Nate has responded with monosyllables and then gone back to staring at the road.
I’m running out of ideas.
Then I remember Ben Wilson.
“Hey,” I say, sitting up straighter. “Do you still talk to Ben much?”
Nate’s grip on the steering wheel loosens slightly. “Sometimes. He’s been busy with the shop.”
“Wilson Auto, right? I saw it when I drove into town.” I smile. “God, Ben always cracked me up. Remember how he used to do that impression of Principal Hartley?”
“The one where he’d pretend to fall asleep during his own announcements?” Nate’s mouth twitches. “Yeah. He still does it.”
“Some things never change.” I shift in my seat, angling toward him. “Speaking of Ben—do you remember that time we all tried to tip a cow?”
Nate actually laughs. A short, surprised sound. “Which part? Theo falling in the ditch or Milo screaming like a little girl when the cow moved?”
“Both.” I’m grinning now, the memory flooding back. “God, that was such a disaster. Seven of us out there in the dark—you, me, Theo, Lucas, Ben, River, Milo—and not a single one of us could actually tip a cow.”
“Because you can’t tip a cow. They don’t sleep standing up.”
“We didn’t know that! We were sixteen!” I pull my legs up onto the seat, getting comfortable. “But here’s the thing. After I left, Ben apparently told everyone he went back and did it himself. Tipped a cow solo. Is that true?”
Nate’s quiet for a beat.
“No way.” I stare at him. “He actually did it?”
“He tried.”
“And?”
“Ended up face-first in a pile of manure.” Nate’s mouth is twitching.
I burst out laughing. “Oh my god. I never heard about that part. He just told everyone he succeeded!”
“That’s Ben.”
“But wait—” I narrow my eyes. “You said he tried. Not that he went alone. How would you know he ended up in manure unless...”
Nate’s ears are turning red.
“Nate Thorn.” I’m full-on staring at him now. “Were you there?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Your ears are red! You’re a terrible liar!”
“I’m an excellent liar. I’m a deputy.”
“Deputies are supposed to uphold the law, not participate in cow-tipping!”
“Allegedly participate.” He’s fighting a smile now, the corners of his mouth trembling with the effort of staying serious. “And it was before I was a deputy.”
“I knew it. All those years Ben bragged about being the only person to ever tip a cow solo, and you were there the whole time.” I wipe tears from my eyes. “Wait until I tell the others.”
“You wouldn’t.”
