The Western Dare (Harlequin Heartwarming) (18 page)

Camp grinned. “I stand corrected.”

Sherry rolled her eyes. “Some historian. We’ll have to preview the paper he’s writing. Emily, make sure you set him straight.”

Camp dropped an arm around Emily’s shoulders. “It’s a tough job, but you picked the right lady. This one has a backbone of steel.”

Laughing, Emily jabbed him in the ribs. When it failed to dislodge his arm, she gave up. “We’ll see you all later. If we don’t get moving, our free time will be gone.” As they loped across the street, both missed the curious look Sherry aimed their way.

Instead of sitting in the sun with cups of yogurt, Camp and Emily got waffle cones and wandered the tree-shaded boulevards, stopping to read historical markers. Down the street a long drumroll sounded. Very soon a brass section struck up a patriotic tune. The music faded as they crossed to look at the Carnegie Center, and grew louder again once they’d cut across a cobblestone street to peek into the Ford County Courthouse, where so many outlaws had met their fate.

“Can’t you almost feel the ghosts of all those old gunfighters?” Emily asked in hushed tones.

Camp swallowed the last of his sugar cone and grasped Emily’s hand. “Kind of a shivery feeling? Like a breeze cooling your body, only there’s no wind?”

She nodded, automatically seeking his warmth.

He smoothed a hand up and down her arm. “That’s what I experienced the time my high-school history club visited Meramec Caverns outside of Sullivan, Missouri. Our adviser said the caverns had been a hideout for Jesse James. The first cave I looked at, I saw huddles of frightened slaves. They seemed so...real. It shook me. I didn’t mention it until after the tour. Our guide admitted Union troops stored powder kilns there during the Civil War, and that the caves were part of the Underground Railroad. Jesse James really visited there only once, briefly.” He paused. “Needless to say, for the rest of that trip, everyone avoided me.”

“Oh, Camp. It must have frightened you.”

“Yes. But my folks had a plausible explanation. Of course, they come from an intuitive Scots ancestry. Dad said strong souls from past eras reach out to the future so we can build on what they learned. It made sense to me.”

“Ye-s,” she said slowly, thoughtfully.

“You’re not put off?”

“No. Should I be? I don’t understand, though—with all that Scots blood, why weren’t you cursed with red hair and freckles, Nolan Campbell?” Reaching up, she ruffled his dark hair.

He exhaled explosively, all but hearing Greta’s snide comments. “Here I thought you were getting ready to say I had a screw loose. What’s wrong with freckles, I’d like to know?
Yours
are nice.”

“Ha! Kids didn’t call you carrot top and measles face.”

Camp studied her upturned face so long and hard, and with such intensity, it had Emily sucking in her breath.

The moment was lost as the band they’d heard earlier now rounded the corner. A brace of coronets, trumpets and slide trombones made the sidewalk vibrate. The musicians led a full-fledged parade flanked by a gaggle of followers.

Camp found himself irritated at a clown who darted up and made Emily laugh out loud by finding coins behind her ear. Or maybe it was the garish stalk of fake flowers that the guy pulled from his sleeve to give the “pretty lady.”

With a delighted smile, she stood on tiptoe and kissed the clown’s cheek, heedless of the white greasepaint. Jealous, he wanted to buy her a million real bouquets; even more than that, he wanted to be clever enough to drive her cares away. She should laugh more often.

Still smiling, Emily tapped her watch and shouted over the din that it was time to meet the others. In fact, they had to run.

Partway down the block, Emily dropped her paper flowers and tripped on them.

Camp caught her before she fell. He scooped up the colorful bouquet and held it away from her, demanding a kiss for its return as he jogged backward.

She danced around him, trying to grab her flowers. Convinced he wouldn’t give them back until she complied with his zany request, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth.

For a minute Camp’s hand went limp and he nearly lost the flowers. In the nick of time, he clutched the stalk, awkwardly flattening it against the small of Emily’s back as he claimed the kiss he’d craved all day.

Hard to say how long they would have remained locked in their embrace if a passing teen hadn’t shrilled a wolf whistle.

Groaning, Camp released her slowly. And happened to glance over her shoulder into the dismayed faces of their companions, who’d gathered at the van.

Sherry appeared the most confused. “What was that about?”

More for Emily’s sake than his own, Camp wagged the bouquet under the ladies’ noses and explained that the amorous clown had led to his teasing kiss.

Emily snatched the flowers from his hand so quickly, Camp wasn’t sure she appreciated his efforts on her behalf. But it was for her sake that he kept quiet about their relationship—if relationship it was. For one thing, he didn’t want his sister giving her a hard time. And judging by the speed with which Sherry lay claim to the front seat, Camp knew he’d handled the explanation correctly.

“Where to now?” he asked briskly, as if Emily and Sherry hadn’t clammed up.

“To the fort, Romeo,” Gina sang out, making matters worse. “From there we’ll visit the swales. It’ll still be light enough for taking pictures.”

The old fort sat between U.S. highway 154 and the Arkansas River. Its buildings, made from limestone, had been quarried north of the city. This time, as they piled out of the bus in the parking lot, Sherry hooked arms with Emily. “Come across the street with me to the cemetery. I heard Bat Masterson is buried there. You can help me find his headstone. Nolan, I trust you’ll stick with Gina. The cemetery ground is too soggy for her wheelchair. She’d better stay on the walkways inside the fort.”

Camp agreed. What else could he do? Still, he deeply resented the roadblocks his sister placed between him and Emily. He understood Megan’s attitude, and even Brittany’s, who had fancied herself in love with him. But what was Sherry’s problem? Racking his brain, he drew a blank.

However, once he resigned himself to not making waves, he got on well with Gina. She knew a lot about the history of Dodge City. Camp, Gina, Vi and Doris had nearly completed a circuit of the outbuildings by the time Emily and Sherry reappeared.

“All that trouble for nothing.” Sherry sighed. “The cashier in the gift shop said it wasn’t Bat Masterson buried here, but his brother who was once the marshal in Dodge.”

“Why are you so interested? It’s not as if we’re related,” Camp said jokingly.

“No. But as a kid you got all pumped up over moldy museums. I found gunslingers intriguing. Be still, my heart,” she said with a laugh.

Camp snorted. “I guarantee if you ever met one of those tough hombres from the Old West, you’d run so fast smoke would roll from your boots.”

“In your dreams, brother. I held my own in neighborhood brawls. I guess you’ve forgotten that I smacked Roy Keller in the teeth my senior year and walked home from the Sadie Hawkins dance.”

“I remember. All because the poor joker ran out of gas.”

“Well, he tried to take some squirrelly way home. His story sounded flaky to me. So I took off. It wasn’t my fault he had to push his car for miles.”

The women tittered over Sherry’s escapade all the way to the van. Camp barely managed to herd everyone aboard. Their jovial mood lasted until they disembarked at the wheel ruts carved by the wagon trains that had passed through Fort Dodge.

There were no buildings to block the wind. They stepped into hip-deep prairie grass that undulated across the flat land like breakers on an incoming tide. Deep swales, six abreast, disappeared from the naked eye to a point where the purple horizon met a floating sea of grass. In the silence, Camp thought he heard babies crying. Or was it the tears of pioneer women torn from their families?

The minute his eyes met Emily’s and he saw the sheen of tears, he knew she felt the connection, too. He put out a hand, and she slid hers into his larger palm. They stood like that, joined to each other and to the past by a thin thread of emotional understanding, until Gina cleared her throat and Sherry coughed, interrupting the moment. Camp struggled to reconnect with the here and now.

Powerful feelings lingered. No one spoke on the last leg of their journey. It was as if each person sat wrapped in his or her own cocoon. Camp dropped the women off at the entrance to Boot Hill Museum while he turned in the rental. He was sure Emily would stay in the van. But no, she let Sherry entice her out.

Dusk fought for possession of an orange sky as Camp hurried back on foot. He entered the museum village as electric lights winked in the stores lining the main street. Camp soon found the others. They’d stopped to listen to a variety of barkers hawking their wares.

Mark and Jared dashed up, apologizing for being late. Megan and Brittany arrived just as Emily was ready to send out a search party.

“Sorry,” they breathed as one. “We had to see the end of the gunfight. Those guys die so cool,” Megan explained.

“There you go.” Camp nudged Sherry. “A chance to get yourself a gunslinger.”

“I’ve got dibs on the one in the black hat,” said Brittany. “In fact, we want his autograph. If you let us go back, we’ll stake out a place to watch the fireworks in front of the Long Branch Saloon.”

Mark tugged Camp’s sleeve. “Have you guys seen the neat old steam engine parked at the north end of Main?”

Camp shook his head.

“It’s the train that replaced the Conestogas on the Santa Fe Trail. Me and Jared climbed all over it. Mom, you oughta come look, too.”

“Gina? Are you interested in seeing the train?” Emily turned.

“I’d rather the girls parked me outside the saloon. I’m running out of steam.”

“The saloon serves sarsaparilla,” Megan announced. “I’ll get you one if you’d like.” Everyone gaped at the girl who never volunteered to help with anything.

Sherry placed her hands on the handles of Gina’s chair. “A drink would hit the spot. You kids take off. Maybe Gina and I will find out if the Long Branch serves something other than sarsaparilla. How about you, Emily?”

“I’ll go with the boys. I’m hungry, and I smell corn dogs. Save me a place to watch the fireworks, all right?”

“Sure,” Sherry agreed. “Are you ready for a cold drink, Nolan?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Mark wants to show me the train.” He walked off before Sherry could come up with another excuse to separate him and Emily.

The train engine truly was an old iron horse. The boys importantly demonstrated all they’d learned for the adults.

Emily and Camp were properly appreciative. They admired everything, then were ready to move on.

“Can we stay awhile?” Mark begged.

More easily convinced this time, Emily nevertheless extracted a promise to meet outside the Long Branch before the fireworks started.

She and Camp picked their way through the crush of people. “There’s the vendor with the corn dogs.” Camp took Emily’s hand and pulled her along. “Or there’s hot pocket sandwiches if you want something that’ll stick to your ribs.”

“Look.” She slowed. “A booth selling baked potatoes. If I buy a potato and you get a hot pocket, we can trade bites.”

Camp would have bought sushi, which he hated, to please her if she’d asked. He couldn’t take his eyes off her as she stood in one line and he in the other. Afterward, totally immersed in each other, they wandered along the board walkway.

Camp stole kisses every chance he got. Or maybe they weren’t stolen. After the first one, Emily rose to her toes, clasped his shirtfront and did a little kissing herself. During one such silly exchange they parted to find Sherry, Gina, Brittany and Megan bearing down on them.

“Oh, no,” Camp groaned. “Not
again.
”

“Where have you been?” demanded Megan. “Mark and Jared came back ten minutes ago. We lost our good spot for watching the fireworks ’cause we had to hunt for you.”

Camp deposited the remains of their meals into the trash. “I can’t speak for Emily, but I haven’t lost my way since I was a kid.”

“How fitting,” Sherry murmured. “You’re both acting like adolescents.”

Gina wheeled to the front. “Love scrambles the sanest brains.”

“Love?”
The word erupted in chorus from three sets of pursed lips.

The only thing Camp noticed, however, was how quickly Emily denied any involvement. Out popped that reserved coolly private second side of her again.

Just then the crackle of rockets overhead kicked off the fireworks display. Funny, he hadn’t exactly labeled what he felt for Emily. Camp did know she made him feel young again. And happy. And a little reckless—which made him wonder what, if anything, she felt for him. Suffocating smoke from the Roman candles falling around them—not to mention the presence of their companions—precluded his asking anything so intimate.

On the brisk walk back to the wagons after the finale, he and Emily were kept apart, constantly surrounded by others. He couldn’t say with certainty whether this was by action or design.

Determined to have a word with her, he whispered a hurried invitation to meet outside his wagon for tea after everyone had gone to bed.

She nodded, seeming as anxious as he.

Restless, Camp set about brewing her favorite tea. He’d even drunk some of the nasty stuff by the time she showed up.

“Whew!” Short of breath, she accepted the steaming cup he handed her. “I haven’t sneaked out of bed to meet a boy since eighth grade.”

Camp was taken aback to think she ever had. Realizing he didn’t know her at all, he decided it was time to bring whatever it was between them into some kind of perspective. “I’m not a boy, Emily. We’re adults, you and I.”

Sensing a subtle shift in his tone, she set her cup aside without a word. He did the same in time to catch her as she walked straight into his arms.

“It doesn’t sit well with me to sneak around.” Camp leaned back and framed her face with both hands.