Chapter 42 Colton

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 rolledout."

"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.

"You're not coming with me," Mom says. "I can take care of Chance just fine on my own. You need to get back on the trail." She pulls a duffel bag from the cab and tosses it over to me. "Here, I brought you some nicer clothes. You might want to freshen up a bit more before you see Riley again. I hope she likes corn bread."

Mom's convinced that anyone who doesn't like corn bread isn't right for me. Granted, it is a weird coincidence that all the girls I've dated so far haven't liked corn bread. But it's not exactly the kind of question that's easy to work into conversation before a first date. Hey, how do you feel about corn bread? 'Cause my mom has this theory…

"Thanks, Mom," I say, sliding the carrying strap over my shoulder. "But I don't see how I'll be able to catch up with the wagons without a horse."

"You can take the mules," she says as if the answer's obvious.

"What mules?"

"Sal and Buck," Mom says. "With you staying back, Dad wasn't sure they'd have enough hands on the trail to deal with them. Jake's not exactly the best with mules and you know how skittish they get with Wanda. Mack agreed to stable them and he's got an old buckboard wagon you can borrow."

I'm confident I can handle Sal and Buck, since I helped train them, but I'm not sure about the wagon. Without having a feel for how it handles, I'm not keen on testing it out in the growing darkness. I glance down at my watch. It's already 6:00 p.m. By the time I get the team hitched…

"You don't have to leave tonight. Get yourself a good night's rest and head out at dawn. Sal and Buck are fast and you can shave some time going through Horsethief Gulch. You should have no trouble catching up to them by dinner tomorrow night."

I pull her in for a bear hug. "Thanks, Ma."

She squeezes me back. "Oh, I forgot to tell you. Mrs. Martinez called earlier today. She's already making lists of possible dates for you for the Harvest Dance. She's still going on about introducing you to her niece. Or her cousin's niece. Someone's niece, anyway."

I groan. "Mom, Mrs. Martinez has to be stopped. There's no reason a sixty-year-old woman should be that invested in my love life."

Mom laughs. "I told her you're already spoken for."

"This isn't the 1900s. Who uses the term ‘spoken for' anymore?"

"Mrs. Martinez." Mom grins. "She used the term at the quilting bee yesterday."

I roll my eyes. "Riley won't even be here for the Harvest Dance."

"Mrs. Martinez doesn't need to know that," she says with a wink. "I should head out."

"Drive safely." I kiss the top of her head. "Take good care of Chance for me?"

"Always." She leans up and kisses my cheek. "Be safe out there, sweetheart." She pulls open the driver's door and pauses with her foot on the running board. "You really do like this Riley girl, huh?"

"Yeah," I say. "I really do."