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“Walker Two, just now hearing of a stampede. Are you secure? Over.”
“Mack, we are secure. The bison gave us a run but we forded Broken Yoke Brook. Riley Thomas, a member of the expedition, is with me. Over.”
“Roger, Walker Two. I’ll notify Walker One. What’s your location? Over.”
My brain calls up a mental map of the area around Fort Bellows. We’re somewhere south of the old Templeton place and north of Mack’s favorite fishing spot and far enough west that roads are few and far between. Even if they send out help now, it would be hours before they could make it up to Pleasant Crossings, double back on Hog Wash Road, and then attempt to cut across the prairie to us, with no trail to follow. If I factor in the time it’ll take to send a truck and trailer from Darby, the earliest anyone would get to us would be at least six p.m., and that’s being optimistic. It would be a rough ride in and out with a horse trailer and only headlights to light the way once twilight falls. Too risky. Since none of us are injured, it’s probably best if we just stay put until daybreak.
“Mack, we’re just behind the herd, but they don’t look like they’re going anywhere anytime soon. We’ll overnight here and reassess in the morning. Over.”
I take the brief silence to check over Chance’s front legs to make sure he isn’t hurt. His weight is evenly distributed and his breathing has returned to normal, which is a good sign.
“Roger, Walker Two. Stay safe out there. Over.”
“Affirmative, Mack. Over and out.”
I power off the radio to conserve the batteries in case we need them and slide the handheld back into the saddlebag, before pulling the bag down from Chance’s saddle. After unhooking the saddle, I pull it and the sweat-soaked saddle blanket off. Chance shifts as if stretching his back, and I don’t blame him. He hasn’t been ridden that hard in a while and not with so much weight.
When I glance over at Riley, she’s squatting down in front of the contents of her emptied backpack, everything lined up on the ground in a neat row: a small first-aid kit, water straws, energy bars, beef jerky, an apple, a half-filled water bottle, a few single-serving packets of honey and peanut butter, a pocket flashlight, insect repellant, a poncho, a Swiss Army knife, flint, and a pile of art supplies. She tears a few pages of paper from her sketch pad and sets it aside, placing two energy bars, the water bottle, and the apple atop them. She slips the flint into her front pocket and then shoves everything else back into the bag. Pushing up from the squat, Riley glances out into the prairie with a determined look on her face.
I glance away quickly before she catches me staring. While I do a more thorough job of checking Chance over, Riley comes over. “Can I give him this apple? I think he’s earned it.”
“Me too,” I say, nodding.
Chance devours it quickly and then nudges her with his nose, as if asking for more.
“Sorry, buddy,” she says, running her hand down his neck. “I owe you more than an apple, but that’s all I’ve got.” Riley holds out a protein bar and the water bottle to me. I hesitate before taking them, not quite sure where things stand with us. When our fingers meet, heat travels along my arm all the way to my heart, which tightens into a ball in my chest. Her hand lingers for a moment until I pull away, conflicted. Clearly, there’s something between us, but I didn’t just rescue Riley from a bison stampede to have her trample on my heart, either.
Riley nods and brushes her hands on the back of her jeans. “I’ll start gathering kindling.”
“You look surprised,” Riley says, glancing up at me from her spot in front of the campfire. It’s not a big, roaring bonfire by any means, but the little blaze she has going is well-constructed and throws off plenty of heat.
“Not surprised,” I say, settling down on the saddle blanket beside her. “I’m impressed.” Not only has she cleared a wide swath of area around it to prevent the nearby brush from catching fire, but she’s also managed to stockpile a bunch of dried branches and kindling to keep it going.
Riley tosses a small stick into the fire and watches the smoke curl up. A few of the brightest stars have made their appearance, just barely visible in the pale gray sky.
“I owe you an apology and a thank-you, but I’m not sure which should come first,” she says. “I was thinking maybe I should go in chronological order, but I wouldn’t be here to apologize if you hadn’t ridden to my rescue, so thank you for saving my life.” She wipes the back of her hand over her cheek and sniffs. “How did you pull me up?” Riley turns to me with watery eyes, and it takes everything I have in me not to reach over and hold her tight.
“Besides roping competitions, Chance and I compete in the Rescue Race at the county fair. It’s basically what happened out there. You have to pick someone up and toss them onto the horse behind you while you ride by, but in a much more controlled environment.”
“No raging bison?”
“No.” My foot bumps hers. “But sometimes the rodeo clowns get a little wild.”
“I bet you won all the gold medals.” She glances over at me beneath damp eyelashes.
Riley’s faith in my abilities is flattering, but wrong. “Not exactly. I never could manage to get the timing right for the judges.”
“Well, I bet if they’d been here today, you would’ve scored a perfect ten. If you hadn’t gotten to me when you did…”
I don’t even want to think what might have happened if I hadn’t been there.
Riley reaches over and squeezes my hand, her fingers wrapping around mine for a moment. “I think your timing was perfect.” My skin tingles when she draws her hand back and I clamp my fingers into a fist, hoping it will make the sensation go away, but instead, it just amplifies it.
Our eyes lock and I want so badly to lean over and kiss her. To somehow rewind the clock to yesterday afternoon, when it was just the two of us standing in the museum with empty walls of possibility stretching out before us instead of these thick, protective, invisible walls that separate us now.
Twilight settles over the prairie and everything around us is cast in shadows. The brook babbles behind us, while the crickets and frogs call to each other. Every so often, a bison grunts, reminding us that we’re still very much under their watchful eye.
I stand and stretch, my body sore from the heavy riding and exertion of the day. Even though I ate a protein bar not too long ago, my stomach feels as hollow as my heart. I might not be able to fix the latter, but I can do something about my hunger.
