Once in town everyone quieted as they stared out the windows. Red, white, and blue streamers draped the false-front stores. Flags aligned the streets and waved in the breeze. "My one stoplight town," Megan thought.
The van stopped and the passengers disembarked. Paige and Jason ran to the stagecoach in the center of town to have their picture taken. The others discussed where to go first. Danny stared at everyone and said, "You can't be serious. We're spending the day here? It looks like a one-horse town we studied in history class."
"Horses aren't allowed in town anymore, except for the parade," Charlie said, his eyes twinkling like those of a mischievous child. "You can stay here, but it's not much fun. Trust me." Charlie headed across the paved road, fixing his hat, and whistled Home on the Range. Megan watched, wondering why Danny hesitated. "He's not considering sitting in the van all day, is he?" That's when she saw him look towards the Lonesome Cowboy Saloon. With eyes widened and a smirk on his lips, Danny sauntered across the street, stopping in front of a wooden post.
A yellowed and tattered wanted poster caught his attention. Megan stayed far enough behind to watch, but not be seen. Danny studied the sign with an intensity he had not shown to anything this summer. He shook his head and looked around to see if anyone saw him and then stepped onto the wooden sidewalk.
"All boys love cowboys and Indians," Megan said, snickering. "Most outgrow it, but men like Brett and Charlie never do. Who knows if Danny will, but it's nice to see him interested in something other than irritating Jason."
One push of the swinging doors on the Saloon transported you to the "Old West." Instead of cowboys playing poker and swigging whiskey, townspeople milled about laughing and dancing. Country music from the jukebox filtered through the establishment.
Megan approached the bar and took a seat on a stool made from a saddle. While waiting for her glass of Coke, her gaze fixed on the pistols and rifles, cowboy hats, and stirrups hanging on the wall behind the bar.
"Those are authentic, young lady, given to my granddaddy by real-life cowboys," the bartender said, sliding the ice-filled drink her way. "I understand today's your birthday. This one's on the house."
"Thank you," Megan said, heat rushing to her cheeks. She really disliked attention, good or bad, being bestowed upon her. One sip of the ice-cold drink had her feeling normal again.