Page 48

Colton’s handwriting is a lot like he is: no-nonsense on the outside, but if you dig a bit deeper, you can see the earnestness and perceptiveness. This bouquet is as sweet as it smells, even more so because of the extra effort he went to in putting it together. He probably doesn’t have a clue how much it means to me that he understands me enough to know what I want and what I need. Now, more than ever, I know I’d like to have him be a part of my new life out here. I should tell him I’m staying in Nebraska.

Mom knocks on the adjoining room door and pushes it open.

“All settled in?”

“Yeah.”

“Dad heard a rumor that there might be a computer that we can use to check our email,” she says. “We’re going to check it out. Want to come with us?”

It’s funny—before we climbed aboard the wagon and headed west, I would’ve been all about checking email and scanning social media to see what I was missing out on. But now…

“No, thanks. I’m good,” I say.

I’m supposed to meet Colton soon and I don’t want to be late. I glance longingly at my suitcase, with my comfortable modern clothes, but decide against changing. It wouldn’t be fair to Colton, since he was such a good sport about wearing his costume for me. Instead, I decide to rearrange my hair into a more practical style to tuck under this massive bonnet. I knot the bonnet’s ribbon into a large bow under my chin and finish getting ready.

Mom’s sitting on the couch by the window when I enter the living room that serves as the central hub for our suite of rooms. She glances up from a coffee table magazine. “Maybe we could do something together tomorrow as a family? They have a cloth-dyeing course that might be fun. Or your dad’s been talking about a blacksmithing class.”

“Oh.”

Mom picks up on my hesitation. “Riley, sweetie, I know you’re still upset—”

Am I? I’m really not sure how I feel about Nebraska anymore. But I do know I don’t want to be late meeting Colton. “Mom, I’m fine, okay. I’ve gotta run.”

The hem of my dress swishes around my ankles as I rush from our suite, the door closing with a solid click behind me. My boots thud down the timeworn wooden stairs, bowed in the center from the passage of feet and time. A strong gust of warm wind greets me when I pull open the hotel door.

Colton’s out front waiting for me, just like he said he’d be, leaning against a post, his arms crossed over his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. As always, he seems so comfortable in his skin. He straightens up when I approach and tips his hat to me. “Afternoon, Miss Thomas.”

“Afternoon, Mr. Walker,” I say with a giggle. I glance around to find we’re the only people on the porch. “Is there a reason why we’re being so formal?”

Colton winces and scratches at his stubble. “Employees are supposed to stay in character at all times when we’re in costume to provide the best pioneer experience to our guests and the visitors to Fort Bellows.”

“It sounds like you’re quoting an employee manual.”

“I am. Page three,” he says.

“Don’t tell me you have it memorized,” I tease.

“It’s only four pages.”

Now I understand why Jake’s phone bothered him so much that morning at breakfast. He was all decked out in his Pony Express uniform, so he was going against company policy using his iPhone. Not that there’s much service out here, but still…

“You don’t seem like the type of person who’d be into this kind of thing.” From what I’ve seen, Colton’s more of a down-to-earth straight shooter, and pretending to be something or someone that he’s not, even if it’s a pioneer…I just can’t see it.

“I’m not an actor and I don’t like the attention. To be honest, this is only the second time I’ve worn this outfit. Ever.” He offers me his elbow, and I hook my arm through as he leads us down the stairs. We nod to a passing family of four and turn left behind them onto the dirt street.

“I feel honored. And in the spirit of full disclosure, this is the first time I’ve worn this outfit.”

Colton’s eyes crinkle when he laughs. “Fair enough.”

I lean closer and catch a whiff of Ivory soap and leather. “I have to say, your pioneer costume suits you, though. Have you considered changing up your wardrobe a bit? Swapping out a few pairs of jeans for some fancy wool trousers with suspenders?”

He tips his head closer so that the brim of his hat brushes against my bonnet. “I can’t tell if you’re serious or teasing.”

“Maybe a bit of both.”

“What about you? Planning to add some calico to your wardrobe?” He reaches out and tugs at my sleeve.

“Calico? More like, calic-no.”