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Dad’s at the supply wagon when I find him. “Colton,” he says. “Glad you made it.” He hands me two bottles of lemonade before securing the latch.
“Thanks for leaving Sal and Buck for me.”
“How was the ride?”
“A little bumpy. That old buckboard wagon isn’t as smooth as our prairie schooners.”
Dad grunts as he cracks open a bottle of lemonade. “I figured you’d rather join us on the trail than have a cushy ride home in the truck, considering the little lady who’s caught your eye.”
“Riley.” My chest grows tight. I don’t need his permission to date her once we get back to Darby, but out here on the trail, it’s more complicated. Not only does our relationship go against corporate policy, but also as the wagon train leader’s son, I have to live to a higher standard. If I flout the rules, it could undermine his position with the rest of the crew.
“I like her. She’s got gumption. I think she’s good for you. It’s a good thing she’ll be living close by.”
“You already knew?” I ask. “I only just found out a few minutes ago.”
He takes a long pull from the bottle and squints over at me. “I’m the wagon train leader. It’s my job to know.” There’s just enough light from the campfire to see the weathered wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. “And you should know that relationships between staff and passengers are against company policy. Thing is,” Dad continues, his eyes fixed on the prairie, “I saw you two dancing back there. Definitely not something you want to see between staff and passengers.”
“Dad,” I start to say, but he holds up a hand to stop me.
“You two have been through some pretty extenuating circumstances, I get that. And no one here is faulting you for your feelings. But you can’t go breaking the rules just because they’re inconvenient.” He turns to look at me with a stern expression. “So you just can’t be part of my crew.”
“Whoa.” I take a step back and let out an uneasy breath. “Are you firing me?”
“Hell, no,” Dad says. “It might be against corporate policy for staff to date passengers, but there’re no rules about passengers dating passengers. As far as I’m concerned, you’ve more than earned yourself some time off.”
“Like a vacation?” Living on a farm, there’s no such thing as a day off, let alone a vacation.
“Sure. For a few days,” Dad says, clinking his lemonade bottle against mine. “Oh, and another thing.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“There’s no policy that says a passenger has to stay with the wagon train. You’ve got yourself a team and a wagon. Might be a good time to find your own trail home.”
Riley’s dancing with Jake again when I get back, but they’re about as awkward as a couple at a middle-school dance. Clearly Jake’s trying to show me that he’s not trying to put moves on her, but he’s overcompensating. You could drive a prairie schooner through the space between them.
She catches my eye and waves. “Welcome back.”
Jake offers me a fist bump before wandering away.
“Is everything okay?” Riley asks.
I pull her close and let my chin rest on the top of her head. “Better than okay.”
It feels so good to hold her in my arms, our feet shuffling in slow circles to the music. Barnaby teaches everyone steps to an Irish reel. Riley giggles as I spin her, the firelight setting her hair aglow. We join in on a square dance called by Mr. Stone and fumble our way through a country two-step. Pretty soon, Riley and I are the only ones left on the dance floor.
“Time for us to call it a night,” Felix says.
“We should probably turn in, too,” Riley says. “The wagons roll out early here.”
“About that,” I say.
CHAPTER 45
Riley
WHEN I STEP up into the wagon, excitement courses through me. It doesn’t have a canvas cover or cushioned seats, but it does hold a picnic basket and the promise of open-air adventure.
The mules flick their tails. A red-tailed hawk screeches overhead. The air is crisp, the sun is pale on the horizon, and the prairie spreads out before us like a golden-green ocean.
