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Near Misses & Cowboy Kisses

Page 66

by Katrina Emmel

And miss spending more time with Colton? “Hold up,” I say. “Dad’s been dying to go on a trip like this for ages and there’s only two more days left. No one has cholera or dysentery or a broken bone, so at least we’ve got a chance to beat the game by making it to our final destination,” I say.

Mom doesn’t look convinced. “You’ve had a rough few days.”

“Riding in the wagon is a lot of sitting. It won’t be any more taxing than riding in a van, and at least I can enjoy the scenery better. Being stuck in a hotel room for the next few days would be even worse.”

Dad squeezes my arm. “I have been looking forward to the sing-along.”

“You can’t miss that,” I say.

Dad nods and turns to Captain Walker. “That’s a kind offer, but we’ll continue on the trail.”

“Understood,” Captain Walker says. “But the offer stands if you change your mind.”

When we arrive at the departure point, it’s a chaotic jumble of passengers, crew, and gawking onlookers. Wild Wanda and Felix take our bags and Tetris them into the cargo holds in the wagon. Ty fiddles with one of the mule’s saddlebags. Captain Walker and Barnaby stand near the gates, staring out into the prairie while they discuss whatever has them looking so serious. I glance around, hoping to spot Colton, but there are too many people milling about and I’m sure he’s busy preparing for the return trip.

I slide my backpack onto the floor and ease into my seat. Mom hovers beside me while Dad plops down next to the Stones at the front of the wagon. “Did you want us to sit back here with you? Your father and I don’t mind.”

“That’s okay,” I say. She and Dad have been treating me with kid gloves since I got back, and while it’s a nice break from the constant headbutting with them, it’s stifling.

“Okay,” she says, brushing my bangs back from my face. “We’ll be just up here if you need us.”

“I’m seventeen, not seven,” I want to say. But deep down, it’s nice to know that in spite of all our disagreements and fights lately, she still cares.

Caleb leans forward in his seat across the aisle and drops his hands onto his knees. “Just so you know, I wasn’t involved with the firecrackers. I told Kyle and Mark that it was a bad idea, but they didn’t listen. I was worried that one of the bison might charge at them, so I went to find someone. By the time I found Captain Walker, they had already set off the second detonation. And, well, you know what happened after that.” His fingers tighten on his knees. “If I’d thought you’d be in danger, I would have tried harder to stop them.”

“Caleb,” I say, reaching over to settle my hand over his. “It’s not your fault. There’s no way you could have known what would happen.”

“Doesn’t make me feel any less guilty.”

“Did you purchase the firecrackers?”

“No.”

“Did you light the firecrackers?”

“No.”

“Did you toss the firecrackers?”

Caleb winces. “No.”

“Then stop blaming yourself. There are plenty of other things that you’ve done to me—let them plague you with guilt instead.”

His eyes light up with defiance. “Like what?”

“Are we really going there?” I ask. “Okay. How about the time you launched my entire My Little Pony collection into the neighbor’s yard with your slingshot?”

“I was five,” he grumbles.

“How about the time you ate the cookies I’d spent the entire weekend baking for the seventh-grade field trip fundraiser?”

“I was hungry.” He smirks.

“How about the time—”

“Okay, fine,” he says, holding up his hands. “I get it.” The smile slides from his face and he grows serious again. “Are we good?”

“We’re great,” I say, doing my best Tony the Tiger impression.