Chapter 25 Riley

CHAPTER 25

Riley

THE PRAIRIE GOES on for miles, seemingly endless in all directions. You'd think with all this space, it would be easier to avoid Jake. But no, he manages to pop up at every turn, offering an array of overused movie quotes, cheesy pickup lines, and saccharine compliments. I smile and nod and do my best to ignore him while attempting to look as busy as possible. I need to shake him so I can talk to Colton alone, but damn, he is persistent. If chasing me were an Olympic sport, he'd probably manage to sweep the standings and take home gold, silver, and bronze.

Unfortunately, Colton is as difficult to track down as Jake is to circumvent. While Wild Wanda and Felix whip up lunch and everyone else settles in for our daily nooning, I make two complete rounds of the caravan, but Colton and his horse are nowhere to be found.

By the time lunch is ready, I give up looking. With a tin plate piled high with vegetable fritters, baked beans, and a slice of bacon, I sink onto a picnic table bench and prepare to dig in. As I'm about to take my first bite, a horse appears on the ridge to the west. I can tell from the way the rider sits in the saddle that it's Colton. He zigzags the horse down the incline and then dismounts in the middle of the grass. Every so often, he stoops down to grab something. Down, up, down, up, like he's picking seashells off the beach.

Jake's about to sit next to me, but he must spot Colton, too, based on the way his gaze lasers in on the same patch of prairie. He mutters, "Oh, it's on," and slaps his tin plate on the table. A few beans fall off his plate, roll to the end of the table, and disappear over the edge. The raccoons will be happy tonight.

Jake turns to me with his mouth set in a determined line. "I'll be right back, babe. Don't go anywhere."

Where does he think I'm going to go? We're literally in the middle of nowhere.

Then he grabs my hand and brushes his lips over the back of it. I yank my hand back and wipe it on my jeans as he tosses his hat onto the seat beside me. He stares out at Colton with narrowed eyes and then rushes off in the opposite direction.

What the hell is going on?

I finish my lunch and pull out my sketchbook to draw the covered wagons. I'm just about finished when I look up to find that Colton has Chance tethered to a wagon and is making his way over, his Stetson tipped low on his brow and shadowing his face. In his hand is a small bundle of something wiry and green. As he gets closer, I realize it's a collection of prairie grass, each one a different species.

"I thought you might like these," he says, holding the bundle out to me. "There's some prairie June grass, western wheatgrass, quack grass, prairie wedgescale, plains bluegrass, and woolly sedge. I can tell you more about them later, if you'd like."

My heart dances a jig in my chest at the gesture, which is both extremely sweet and pretty romantic. I force down a swallow over the lump in my throat. "I would like that. Thank you." I reach out to take the grass, but just as I'm about to wrap my fingers around it, Jake skids to a stop beside me and drops a handful of random flowers and weeds in my lap.

"I picked you a bouquet," Jake says like he expects a gold star for his effort. "Flowers, not hay." He sneers at the grass in Colton's hand.

I have zero interest in Jake. Or the "bouquet" of flowers he picked so hastily that he ripped out the entire plant, roots and all. What the hell am I going to do with them out here? I doubt the supply wagon has a vase.

Colton's collection of prairie grass, on the other hand, is perfect. The fact that Colton skipped lunch to pick out something specifically with me in mind makes my insides melt. I'm not sure anyone's ever understood me so well before. Not only that, but I've also been wondering what my next art study subject should be, and filling a page or two of my sketchbook with features of the different prairie grasses out here would be just the thing.

"It's grass, not hay," I reply.

"Whatever. It's boring. Colt should have stepped it up and gotten you flowers like I did." Jake smirks at Colton. "When it comes to romance, you snooze, you lose, dude. Oh, wait. That's right, you're only interested in being friends with Riley."

Wait, what? Did I totally misread the almost-kiss and the handful of grass spikes, or…

Nah, Colton's actions speak way louder than any of Jake's empty words. I pick up the pathetic pile of stems Jake tossed in my lap. The unopened black-eyed Susans seem to wither under my scrutiny. Jake didn't get me the flowers out of the kindness of his heart, selecting each one because he knew which ones I'd be interested in. He didn't even pick them to be sweet. The only reason I'm holding on to this sad bundle of vegetation is because he was trying to outdo Colton.

My eyes flick to where Colton was standing, but he's gone. Damn. Now I'm going to have to try to hunt him down again.

"Can you even name one species in this ‘bouquet'?" I ask, flexing my fingers in air quotes on the last word.

Jake shrugs. "Meadow bloom flower."

"That's not even…" I close my eyes and count to five. "What's one thing you know about me?"

"You're, um…from California." He squares his shoulders with pride.

Way to be observant.

"I can't accept these flowers, Jake." I hold them out for him to take.

"But I got them for you," he says, as if he can't believe I don't want them.

"No. You got them for you," I say, tossing the flowers at him. Jake scrambles to catch them as I dash off to where Colton tethered Chance, but neither horse nor human is there.

Once everyone finishes lunch, Captain Walker asks us all to gather round in front of Clark's Sod House, an authentic reproduction of a prairie dwelling, to give us a lecture on the homes white settlers built as they moved to the prairie. I should pay attention, but I can't focus on a lecture right now.

It's pretty clear that there's something between me and Colton. If Jake hadn't shown up, I'm sure we would have kissed by now. But that will never happen if he keeps vying for my attention. What I really need is a few quiet minutes alone with Colton.

I look for him in the group congregating around Captain Walker, but don't spot him. He's probably off working. To clear my head, I pull out my sketch pad and a pencil. Sinking down onto a log, I let my pencil travel across the page. Lines become shapes that blend into a figure atop a distant hill. A cowboy on his horse.

Colton.

"Now, tonight we have a special treat planned for all of you," Captain Walker says.

My ears perk up. Who doesn't like a treat?

"Tonight, we'll arrive at Fort Bellows. And to really liven up the experience, you'll all be wearing historically accurate pioneer clothing. Everyone's outfit has been selected based on the preferences you noted when you checked in back in Darby."

He's joking, right? This is not okay. I turn to my parents for answers but neither look my way.

Captain Walker continues. "Wild Wanda and Felix are available for any necessary wardrobe adjustments. We'll be heading out in a little over an hour, so go on inside the sod house and get changed when Ty calls your name."

"I did not sign up for this," I mutter, flipping my sketchbook closed. For a moment, I consider disappearing into the prairie, but Caleb finds me. "Mom and Dad are looking for you. Comeon."

"Did you know about this?" I ask Caleb in a harsh whisper as we make our way across the clearing.

"Nope," he says, completely unfazed by the fact that he's about to don some wool trousers. "But it could be cool."

"On what planet?"

He doesn't bother to answer.

Ty calls our family up next.

"Ladies first," Dad says.

Mom and I step into the sod house. Inside is a changing screen, full-length mirror, shoe rack filled with worn leather boots of all different shapes and sizes, and a rod full of pioneer clothes that have been selected for each participant on the Oregon Trail Adventure excursion.

Mom searches through the tags until she finds our outfits. In one hand, she holds up a brown wool dress with a white apron. In the other hand, she holds a calico nightmare with petticoats and pantaloons and a giant bonnet.

I reach for the brown option but she hands the other one to me. "This one's yours," she says.