Wild Hearts

by Jessica Burkhart

  Mom put a floodlight in one hand and her smaller flashlight in the other. “You can do the rope,” she said.

  “Oh, sure,” I said. “Place the weight of our getting out safely on my shoulders.”

  I pulled on the rope again and we stepped into the gray-and-black entrance. I let out the string. As we moved away from the entrance, the sunshine weakened until the only light was from our flashlights.

  “I’m going to flip on the floodlight now,” Mom said. “I don’t want you to trip.” The powerful flashlight clicked on and a bright, white light overpowered the weaker yellow flashlight beams. The gray walls of the entrance to the cave morphed into a sandy brown color, and the cavern ceiling was about as high as ours at home. The brown walls were pitted and rough, and on the sides of the cave and above our heads, the ceiling jutted out at odd angles and contorted shapes.

  “Amazing,” Mom whispered.

  “It really is,” I agreed. Dad had to see this. No cell phone, no beeper, and no work. He’d probably panic and have Internet withdrawal.

  The cave got cooler the farther we walked. The string kept trailing behind us as we wove our way toward what we hoped was an empty cavern.

  “So,” Mom said, peering behind a large rock where some sort of cricket had skittered. “Tell me about the guy.”

  “Guy?” I asked. “What makes you think there’s a guy?”

  Mom looked at me, her head tilted. “Sweetie, you’re wearing skirts to work. You’re spending extra time on your makeup and hair. I’ve never seen you so excited to finish dinner and be alone up in your room.”

  I blushed. Mom motioned for us to sit on the boulder near her.

  “Okay,” I said, finally. “There is a guy . . . I guess. Logan.”

  “Where did you meet him?” Mom asked.

  “He was kind of the guy that I yelled at for revving at me our first day here,” I said.

  Mom laughed. Then, barely pausing to breathe, I told Mom everything about Logan. Every great thing. Every scary thing. Everything. Things I’d been afraid to even say out loud. I laid out all my thoughts about the mustangs and how Logan felt about them. How Logan was Jack’s son.

  “I don’t want to be the family traitor,” I said. “If Dad ever finds out that I’ve been hanging out with someone who’s a giant supporter of the horses . . . I don’t even want to imagine that lecture.”

  “I’m really touched that you care so much about your dad,” Mom said. “But his problems with the horses are his. Not yours and not Logan’s.”

  “Okay, but what if I really fall for him and then we move?”

  “It would be hard,” Mom said. “But isn’t every good thing worth the risk of being hurt?”

  I shrugged, not knowing what to say.

  “I know that all the moving hasn’t made it easy for you to make friends,” Mom said. “That’s something I think about constantly. But I am so happy that you have Amy here, and that you opened yourself up enough to like Logan.”

  “It wasn’t your fault or Dad’s that I didn’t make more friends other places,” I said. “That was my choice.”

  “Well, I’m so happy that you chose to share all that with me,” Mom said.

  I stood and hugged her. When I let go, she got up and we started walking again.

  Mom tilted the flashlight toward the ceiling.

  “Look, Brie,” she said.

  The low overhang started to vanish. We stepped forward into a massive cavern.

  “Oh, my God.” I twirled in a slow circle and looked around at the cavern. Razor-sharp stalactites hung from the ceiling at all angles. Some were pencil size and others were five feet wide. Water dripped off a stalactite in the center of the cavern and the minerals formed a twin stalagmite that jutted into the air.

  The air smelled musty and the temperature had dropped at least another five degrees. The walls were covered in deep, dark crevices, rounded rock, and jagged rock.

  Almost every few feet, the wall and ceiling surface varied. I’d only seen caverns like this in movies. It was like Tom Sawyer when he got lost with Becky in the cavern. In the center of the cavern ceiling, a small hole shed a tiny bit of light onto the floor. How was that possible so deep in the cave?

  “This is gorgeous,” Mom said, setting down her backpack and pulling out her camera and tripod. She set up the floodlight and it filled the cavern with light. “How did Amy decide to show you this?”

  “I told her you were a photographer and she knew immediately where to go. She thought you’d love this place.”

  “I have to meet her,” Mom said. “Editors are going to love this cave.”

  I followed her lead and brought out my camera and started snapping photos. I took dozens of shots of the ceiling, walls, and floor before walking over to a puddle. Something wiggled in the shallow water. “Mom! Come here!”

  She peered over my shoulder. We stared at the whitish gray crustacean in the puddle. “It’s a crayfish,” she said. “A cave crayfish.” The milky-white crayfish stuck its tiny pincers in the air and waved them threateningly as I bent down to take its picture. It looked like a ghost version of its normal reddish color.

  Mom sat on a nearby boulder and glanced around. “I can’t believe we’re sitting in a cavern,” she said. “It’s just amazing.”

  I sat next to her on the rock and nodded. “Perfect,” I whispered.

  My head said “Show Amy the photos!” while my heart chimed in with “Show Logan!” I could see us in my room, both on our stomachs on my bed looking at my laptop. The thought of it made my heartbeat speed up. I looked down and there was a deep puddle next to my left foot. I hovered over it and smiled at my reflection. Whoever this new Brie was, I wanted her to stay a while.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Always ride the horse in the direction it’s going.

  I had twenty minutes to finish getting ready and meet Amy and Logan at WyGas. Saturday morning was clear and the perfect day to visit a fair. I’d been up half the night trying to decide what to wear. Finally, I’d settled on black combat boots, skinny jeans, an ivory long-sleeve shirt, and a jean jacket. I’d combed my shoulder-length hair into a ponytail and had used a curling iron on the ends. Makeup had been kept to a minimum.

  I grabbed my orange faux-leather purse and hurried down the stairs.

  “Bye!” I called to the kitchen, where Mom and Dad were having coffee and reading the paper. I’d already cleared the festival with Mom.

  “Brie, wait,” Dad said.

  I sighed quietly, my hand on the doorknob.

  I turned to face Dad. “Yes?” I asked.

  “Listen, I know you already talked to Mom about going out now, but I could really use your help at work today,” Dad said. “I’m leaving in a few minutes to head over there.”

  “Dad, my friend is waiting for me. I already told her I was coming since Mom said it was okay.” I tried to keep any traces of annoyance out of my voice.

  “Michael,” Mom said as she walked into the foyer. “I’m free today. I did already tell Brie that she could go.”

  Dad crossed his arms. “Nicola—”

  “I’ll fill in for her today,” Mom said, her tone light. “But you can’t expect me to type ninety words a minute like Brie.”

  It seemed like hours passed before Dad nodded. “Okay,” he said. “Go. But you missed a lot of time at work this week. The lunch breaks in town are over. Got it?”

  I started to protest, but forced myself to smile and nod. I’d deal with that issue later. Right now, I needed to get out the door.

  “Got it!” I chirped. “Bye!”

  Before Dad changed his mind, I yanked open the screen door and pulled it shut behind me. I hurried to my bike and it felt like I didn’t breathe until I got onto the road.

  “Yay! You’re here!” Amy exclaimed.

  She and Logan stood by his truck in the WyGas parking lot. A small red trailer was attached to the truck.

  “Love your sweater,” I said to Amy. She’d paired a
fuzzy red Fair Isle sweater with jeans and cowboy boots.

  “Thanks! Two bucks on eBay,” she said with a tone of satisfaction.

  “You are the eBay queen,” I said.

  “You ready to go?” Logan asked, smiling at me. He looked good in a mustard-colored long-sleeve shirt that was just tight enough for me to make out his chiseled arms and abs.

  “Ready!” I said.

  Amy hopped into the cab, humming.

  “I don’t think she’s excited at all,” I said to Logan.

  “Agreed,” he said. “She’s totally bummed.”

  I peered inside the trailer and LG was sleeping, his dark brown head down.

  “I like your hair,” Logan said. I looked away from the trailer and he was smiling at me.

  “Thanks,” I said, smiling.

  We went around separate sides of the trailer—me to the passenger side and him to the driver’s seat. I touched my ponytail and grinned. I climbed into the cab and sat next to Amy. There was a bag of candy on Amy’s lap and she’d opened a can of root beer.

  “Thanks for waiting, guys,” I said. “Parental interrogation before I left.”

  “No way were Amy and I leaving without you,” Logan said.

  “We’re seriously excited to take you to your first Western Outlaw Festival,” Amy said, grinning.

  “Wait, wait. A what?” I asked.

  Logan and Amy laughed.

  “I guess I didn’t tell you everything about it,” Logan said. He started the truck and eased it out of the lot. “It is a cruelty-free rodeo like I said, but it’s also an 1800s Western Outlaw Festival.”

  “We go every year,” Amy said. “I only missed one. I was six and had the chicken pox.”

  “Wow, that’s dedication,” I said, laughing.

  “There’s a steamboat, an old-fashioned shootout, and a rodeo,” Amy said. “You’re going to have so much fun.”

  “I can’t wait,” I said. “How far away is it?”

  “Just fifteen minutes,” Logan said. “I raided WyGas for candy and pop.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Are you going to win at calf roping?”

  “Of course,” he said. “I can’t lose when it’s your first time watching.”

  Amy elbowed me in the ribs, smirking. I shot her a what-are-you-doing-stop-it-now look back. Amy had told me more than a handful of times that she knew Logan liked me. I just kept responding that it didn’t even matter if he did—I still felt weird about how attracted to him I was, even after my talk with Mom at the falls.

  The ride to the fairgrounds went by fast. We laughed and sang along to the pop station the entire ride. Sun streamed inside the windshield and relaxed me even more.

  I jumped out of Logan’s truck when we reached the festival’s parking lot. Trucks and trailers were parked at all angles and people were unloading horses and a couple had cattle in their trailers.

  “Are all the horses here for the competition?” I asked Amy.

  “Mostly,” she said, tugging on a skinny red headband that held back her black bangs. “Some are going to be up for auction.”

  Amy stood on her tiptoes, shading her eyes against the sun.

  “Logan,” she said, “I think Bobby Farris just got here.”

  Logan grunted, muttering something I couldn’t hear.

  Amy grinned. “Aw, it’s okay, Logan!”

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “Logan’s the calf-roping champ,” Amy said. She patted Logan’s back. “Three years in a row until he lost to Bobby Farris last year.”

  “Ouch,” he said, faking hurt. “I think he cheated.”

  “How?” I asked, laughing.

  “There were rumblings around the circuit that he knew the guy who owned the calves and he had them give his calf a little tranquilizer to slow him down,” Logan said.

  Amy snorted and rolled her eyes. No way, she mouthed to me.

  “Do you need help?” she asked Logan.

  “Nope,” Logan said with a head shake. “I’ve got to register, get LG saddled, and warm him up. I ride in an hour.”

  Amy turned to me. “Want to go look around and then come back for Logan’s ride?”

  “Sure. Let’s go.” We waved to Logan and linked arms. Amy and I headed out of the parking lot and walked across the grassy field. Half a dozen red-and-white circus tents formed a backdrop for what looked like an 1800s Western town. Cowboys and cowgirls dressed in authentic outfits wandered the area and entered tents labeled saloons and other old-fashioned shops. Chuck wagons were parked around the lot and signs for pony rides, shootout reenactments, and horseshoe toss were stuck everywhere.

  “Wow,” I said. “This is great!”

  “It’s pretty cool,” Amy agreed, dragging me toward a chuck wagon. “We need snacks and drinks for Logan’s competition.”

  “Yeah, we kind of did blow through all the sodas and stuff that were supposed to be for the event on the way here.”

  A tall guy a few years older than us rubbed his hand over his whiskered face as he offered us a plate. “Want to try the jerky?” he asked us.

  “Sure!” we said as we each took a small strip of the heavily peppered beef jerky off the plate and chewed for a second.

  “We’ll take some,” Amy said. “And we need pop. Root beer okay with you, Brie?”

  “Definitely,” I said.

  Amy got three glass-bottled root beers. We left the chuck wagon and swerved to the side as four horses pulling a stagecoach trotted through the street. People flooded into the tent with a canvas sign spray-painted with RIDE ’EM, ROPERS on the front.

  Amy and I headed inside the dirt-floored tent and climbed up the metal bleachers to find empty seats. I looked around for Logan and spotted him smiling and laughing with a few guys. They stood by the side of the arena. Logan looked so comfortable and happy. Amy tugged on my arm and we sat on the bleachers. It was almost chilly in the shade.

  We uncapped our sodas and touched them together.

  “Cheers!” I said.

  We took long drinks.

  “Did you and Logan already make out?” Amy asked, turning slightly toward me. “Or is it only a matter of time?”

  “Amy!” I said. “I need more sugar to answer that.”

  I took a long sip of root beer.

  “Omigod!” she said. “You already did!”

  “No. We haven’t done anything. Not even one kiss. Almost, but we got interrupted.”

  In the arena in front of us, a couple of riders were working to guide a black bull into a smaller corral.

  “Do you want to kiss him?” Amy asked.

  I paused. “Yes. No. You know why that would be a problem.”

  “But maybe try to take moving out of the equation?” Amy offered. “And the McCoy versus Brooks thing.”

  I cocked my head, giving her a no-way-ever look.

  “Okay, okay!” Amy said, putting up a hand. “Just go with me on this. Forget everything except for you and Logan. That’s it. Would it make you happy right now to kiss him?”

  “Yes,” I said. The word sounded strange. “Yes,” I said again.

  Amy squealed and grabbed my arm. “Then maybe you should forget about the future,” Amy said. “I know it’s easier said than done. I know that. But you deserve to be happy now.”

  I nodded. “Maybe. But it would be at the expense of making my dad unhappy. We’ve always been pretty close. He wouldn’t get over it if I told him that Logan and I were friends.”

  Amy leaned over, reached behind me, and draped an arm across my shoulders. She squeezed and let me go. Her hug was so sweet—it reminded me of Kate. I got out my phone, ready to take a million pics to send to her.

  “All right, colts and fillies!” A loudspeaker crackled and static filled the tent. “Calf-roping is starting in this tent right now! Stay in your seats for half an hour of wild roping fun! Up first is Grady Harrison.”

  Amy and I looked at each other, then giggled. We sat tall in our seats so we could see
every corner of the arena. The first cowboy loaded his horse into the chute and he waited for the signal. The rider nodded, and a brown-and-white calf shot out of the narrow enclosure and took off at a dead run down the arena. A cowboy in a red shirt broke out of the corral on a black horse and tore off after the calf. The calf zigzagged down the arena and tried to escape the cowboy’s lasso.

  “That calf is fast!” I said to Amy. No way would the cowboy be able to wrangle that one.

  “Just watch!” Amy said, not taking her eyes off the arena.

  The cowboy raised his lasso and swirled it above his head in several tight circles before letting it fly out of his hand. The rope sailed through the air and landed snugly over the calf’s head. Before his horse had even stopped, the guy jumped to the ground and ran toward the calf. The horse halted and started slowly backing up as the guy wrestled the calf to the ground and took a thin short rope out of his mouth. He furiously wrapped the rope around the calf’s hooves and then stood, raising his arms in victory.

  “Time for Grady Harrison is twenty seconds,” the announcer’s voice boomed.

  “Slow,” Amy said, taking a sip of her root beer. “Logan’s done better.”

  The cowboy released the calf, mounted his horse, and rode out of the arena.

  “Next up is former champ Logan McCoy. Put your hands together, folks!”

  I stood, clapping so hard my hands stung.

  “Is Bobby Farris competing this year?” I asked Amy.

  “I think so,” she said.

  I glued my eyes to the chute and watched Logan shift his weight in the saddle. He concentrated on the calf squirming in the chute next to him. The calf’s gate was yanked open again and, like the one before it, the black calf zoomed out and raced forward. Logan and LG sped behind it. The calf didn’t make it halfway down the arena before Logan’s lasso had landed around its neck. Jumping to the ground, Logan raced toward the squirming animal and pulled it down. His hands moved so fast I couldn’t see him tie the calf’s four hooves together.

  “Go, Logan!” I yelled as Amy clapped beside me.

  Logan jumped to his feet and his eyes scanned the crowd. I waved and Logan saw me. He waved back, smiling.