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When the song is over, Captain Walker stands. “Tonight, we celebrate the last night of our Oregon Trail adventure, which has certainly been more adventurous for some”—I feel his eyes on me—“than others. Hopefully you’ve all enjoyed what the Nebraskan prairie has to offer and have come away with a new perspective on the Oregon Trail. Music was a big part of the pioneers’ celebrations out here and we like to keep that history alive today. Feel free to sing along, and, if the mood strikes, kick up your heels for our very own Oregon Trail Adventure Company hoedown.”

Soon, the three-piece band strikes up “Skip to My Lou.” The McCreadys and the Stones, the only couples without kids on the excursion, decide to brave the impromptu dance floor. Clearly, the Stones have participated in some sort of organized dancing, given the square dance moves they’re doing. What the McCreadys lack in rhythm, they make up for in exuberance.

Mom looks over at Dad. “Want to give it a whirl?”

His eyes light up like he’s just been told he was selected to appear on Jeopardy! “You know it.”

They wander off and Caleb abandons me for his friends, who are busy chowing down on penny candy they picked up at the general store in Fort Bellows. At least there’s no sign of any more pyrotechnics. I’ve had enough excitement these past few days.

Wild Wanda sings about little red wagons, jay birds, and a cat in a cream jar, and the whole song ends on a fiddle flourish and hoots and shouts.

“This next one’s called ‘Irish Washerwoman,’ ” Felix calls out before another dance number starts up.

Jake makes his way over. “Care to dance?” he asks, holding out a hand.

I hesitate. Is he asking as a friend or is he making another play at me?

He senses my reluctance to take him up on his offer and draws his hand back. “You looked lonely sitting over here, is all. I doubt any of those guys would ask you to dance, and Barnaby’s too old. I wasn’t planning on asking you, either, to be honest, because I know you aren’t interested in me. But as I was sipping my lemonade, I thought, ‘What would Colton do if the situation was reversed?’ ” He shrugs. “Colton would ask you to dance and make sure you had a good last night on the trail.”

That actually sounds about right.

“Just friends?” I ask.

“Just friends,” Jake confirms. “Although, you should probably know I’m a much better dancer than Colton. He’s too stiff.”

“I have a hard time picturing Colton dancing,” I say, rising from my seat by the fire. The cool Nebraska air rushes over my skin as we walk toward the other dancers.

“Colton dancing is a local urban legend. Few have seen it, and those who have are scarred for life.”

“He can’t be that bad at it.” Even though I can’t quite picture it, Colton seems proficient in everything he does. I doubt he’d be loosey-goosey on the dance floor, but I bet his rigid posture and serious composure would make ballroom dance judges sit up and take note.

“The Harvest Dance is coming up in a few weeks,” Jake says, pulling me into a spin. “If you were still around, you could find out firsthand just what kind of a dancer he is then.”

Unexpectedly, someone taps me on the shoulder. “Or maybe you could find out what kind of dancer I am right now.”

CHAPTER 44

Colton

I’M WEARING MY best flannel shirt and newest jeans, the ones Mom brought for me when she met me at Fort Bellows. They might not have rhinestones or creases like Jake’s, but they aren’t patched up or stained. After hitching up the team and driving across the dusty trail, they aren’t as clean as they were when I left this morning. I look presentable enough, I hope. I tug on the stiff collar, anxious now that it seems like everyone’s eyes are on me. I didn’t expect my return to the wagon train to garner so much attention. But then again, I did just walk out into the middle of the makeshift dirt dance floor.

Riley’s hand goes to where I tapped her on the shoulder and she steps away from Jake. He nods in greeting and steps away. As she turns to face me, I pull off my hat and drag a hand through my hair.

“Colton?” A brilliant smile lights up her face and she drifts closer until the tips of her canvas sneakers brush the square toes of my cowboy boots. “You’re actually here.”

“I am.”

Flickering light from the torches along the dance floor perimeter casts a soft glow over us. I can just barely make out the dusting of freckles across her nose. For a moment, we just stare at each other as the last few lines of “Oh Shenandoah” die away.

“I missed you,” Riley says, reaching out to twine her fingers with mine.

“I missed you, too,” I say.

Felix, Wanda, and Ty start playing a lilting cowboy waltz. I pull her closer and lift our linked hands to my chest. We sway to the music as other couples spin around us.

“Are you okay?” I ask. I’m still pretty sore from yesterday, so I imagine Riley’s feeling it, too.

“Better now that you’re here.” She blinks up at me with glistening eyes. “Is Chance okay? I’ve been so worried about him since Jake told me about his injury,” Riley says.