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CHAPTER 42
Colton
MOM ARRIVES WITH the trailer late in the afternoon. Dressed in faded blue jeans and one of Dad’s old Henleys, she jumps from the truck cab, kicking up a cloud of dust with her scuffed up work boots.
“There’s my boy,” she says, rising on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek.
“Thanks for coming,” I say, wrapping her in a hug.
“Sorry I didn’t get here sooner. The trailer had a flat. I had to swap out one of the tires. And then there was a jackknifed semi on the highway just past Pine Junction. How’s Chance?”
“He’s doing all right. He doesn’t seem to be in pain, but I won’t be able to ride him for a while.”
Mom frowns. “Poor thing. Want to get him loaded up?”
I do, but apparently my stomach has other ideas. It lets out a low rumble.
“When’s the last time you ate?” she asks.
I think back and realize I haven’t eaten anything since Riley and I got back to Fort Bellows. “It’s been a while.”
“Why don’t we go grab a bite to eat while you tell me exactly what happened out on the trail. And then we can see to Chance.”
I suppose there’s no rush, and I’m no good on an empty stomach.
We head over to the tavern and grab a seat near the bar that serves only sassafras tea, sarsaparilla, cowboy coffee, and iced tea.
Mom always worries I don’t eat enough on the trail, but she seems satisfied with my order of a French dip sandwich with fries and a side of coleslaw. When her house club on wheat and my French dip arrive, we dig in. She listens as I tell her about Riley and recount the relevant parts of the incident. When I’m done, she reaches over and squeezes my hand. “As your mother, I’m not wild about the risk you took, but I’m proud of you for saving that girl’s life. Seems to me, she’s pretty special to you.”
“She is.” I drag a hand over my face and sigh. “And she’s probably wondering where I am right now. I didn’t have an opportunity to tell her about Chance before the wagons rolled out.”
“I’m sure she’ll understand, once you explain the situation.” Mom swirls a fry through a dollop of ketchup and pops it in her mouth.
“I know, you’re right. It’s just…what if I don’t see her again before she leaves?”
“If she means a lot to you, you’ll find a way to keep in touch.”
I lean back in my chair and groan. “I don’t have her number.”
“You can’t let a little thing like that stop you,” Mom says. “You’ll figure it out.”
“And to make it worse, Jake’s out there,” I grumble. “He thinks we’re competing for Riley’s attention. If I’m not there, he’ll take it as an open invitation to swoop in.”
“From what you’ve told me, Riley sounds like the type of girl who’d sweep him right back out again.” Mom’s fork hovers over my coleslaw. “Plus, unless I’m mistaken,” she says, shaking it at me, “it’s you she’s been kissing, not him.”
My hand immediately goes to my neck. Do I have a hickey I don’t know about? I can feel the heat rising to my face.
Mom smirks. “I might be old, but I was a teenager, too, once upon a time. Your father had the same glassy-eyed expression for a whole week after our first kiss. It’s a trait all Walker men share.”
I drop my hand to the table and press my palm down flat. “I guess you can’t fight genetics.”
“Look on the bright side,” she says. “At least you didn’t inherit Grampa Bill’s hairline.”
After our meal, we load Chance into the trailer. I’m thoroughly exhausted by the time I finish latching the door. He didn’t flinch or show any signs of discomfort, which is a good thing. Hopefully the ride back in the trailer won’t exacerbate anything.
The sun has already dipped below the horizon, and twilight is falling fast. A crisp breeze kicks up, sending little dust spouts across the prairie flats.
“Give me a few minutes to grab my things and then we can head out,” I say, fully expecting to ride back with her.
