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A full-blown Prairie Princess.
A handful of middle-school boys.
Jake Harding.
I have a feeling nothing about any of this is going to be easy.
CHAPTER 7
Riley
THE WIDE-OPEN plains of Nebraska surround us, short wild grasses and scraggly bushes waving as we meander along the rutted road. We’ve been rambling westward for just over an hour and have made…surprising little progress. I’m pretty sure L.A. traffic jams move faster than this.
Plodding.
Slowly.
Along.
Is there even a word to describe the extremely slow gait the oxen use to pull the wagons?
“Glacial,” I whisper, shifting to stretch my legs.
Mom and Dad are seated up front, talking nonstop to the McCreadys and Stones, two older couples about my grandparents’ age who are sharing our wagon. They’re discussing the Great Upheaval like it’s some wonderful thing we should all be excited about.
“Nebraska’s such a wholesome place to raise kids.”
“The air is so much cleaner here.”
“I’m sure you’ll all love it.”
I. Can’t. Even.
It’s strange, the contrast between how quiet and still the prairie is, a smooth sea of grass, and how topsy-turvy my feelings are, roiling about in my gut like a stormy ocean. The wagon’s rocking tries to lure me into a false sense of calm, but my spine stiffens at Mom’s enthusiastic addition to the conversation up ahead.
“We were so excited when two tenure-track positions opened up at the college at the same time. It was like it was meant to be.”
“And we get to go on a wagon train adventure,” Dad adds.
I glance behind us to see if Darby has finally shrunk into the horizon, but it’s still there, taunting me. The next week is going to be torture if we continue at this mind-numbing pace. As I’m about to turn back around, I catch a glimpse of Tall, Dark, and Irksome on a dark brown horse trailing the supply wagon behind us. I don’t know much about horses or riding them or pretty much anything at all equestrian related beyond what I gleaned from My Little Pony back in the day (Team Fluttershy forever). I’m guessing that level of knowledge won’t cut it here on the trail. But Tall, Dark, and Irksome is completely at ease in the saddle, with the reins loose in his hands and his body swaying with the horse’s slow walk.
I guess that means he’s a tour guide, not a regular old passenger. I can’t quite decide if the revelation softens me toward him a bit or just irritates me more.
He’s so stoic, it’s impossible to picture him cracking a genuine smile that isn’t tinged with sarcasm.
Oh, he irritates me, all right.
I bet he took one look at me and my shopping bags and decided I was more likely to have Starbucks delivered to our wagon than stargaze under the open skies.
As if.
“Prairie Princess,” I mutter under my breath like it’s a four-letter word as I glare at him.
His Stetson is pulled low over his forehead, but, of course, he has to choose that exact moment to look up like he heard me. He sets me with a piercing look, and for some dumb reason, my cheeks burn in response. I whip around to face forward and lean closer to the open canopy flap to let the breeze cool my skin.
Mom’s laugh filters down to me and I hate it. I hate how she can be so damn happy and I can be so utterly miserable, and we can both exist in such different spheres in the same universe. Doesn’t it matter to her that I’m not happy? Shouldn’t she be crushed that their decision has left my life in tatters?
Dad’s no better. I swear, if he tells me one more time to “buck up” or “be of good cheer,” I think I might lose my shit.
