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“It’s okay, Grammy. I’ll find her. She ate all the food so at least we know she’s not hungry.”
Her grandmother looked doubtful. “There’s a lot of land. You’ll need to take the four-wheeler. Take some of the cookies on the counter just in case you spot her. She loves them.”
Charlotte frowned. She knew what a four-wheeler was, but had no clue how to operate one. She had a driver’s license, though, so how hard could it be?
“The keys are hanging by the door. Please find her,” Grammy said.
Job one: find Grammy’s companion and hope to hell she—and the dog—didn’t wind up lost in the middle of nowhere Wyoming.
After changing into jeans and a tank top—and watching a few YouTube videos on how to operate a four-wheeler—Charlotte stood in front of the machine, her hands on her hips. Really…how hard could this be?
Hard, it turned out, but after a rough start, she was cruising around the property. She made a straight line from the back of the farmhouse out toward the horizon, leaving tracks in the dirt so she could find her way back.
She may not be a country girl, but she wasn’t an idiot, either.
She called out for Princess Peanut Butter and stopped a few times to hop off the machine and looked around. No sign of the dog. She’d just have to keep her eyes peeled.
The thrill of driving the machine was fun, though, her hair streaming behind her as she cruised the countryside at twenty-five miles an hour. She could see the appeal of this. Not long term, of course, but as a fun outing, riding through beautiful land.
She reached a small grove of pear trees, neatly lined in rows. She rolled to a stop and studied the small wire fence just a few yards off. Property line, likely. Grammy did say she had pear trees out at the end of her land.
Charlotte hopped down. Her jeans and tank were a little dusty, but she doubted the pear trees minded. She walked through the trees, fingers trailing along the bark. The pears looked ripe. The wind picked up, and the fruity smell of warm prairie grass danced over her nose.
“Hi!” a small voice rang out.
Charlotte jumped and screamed, stumbling back against a tree trunk.
The little voice giggled, and Charlotte turned to see a small girl, maybe five or six, peeking out from behind one of the pear trees.
Charlotte caught her breath and managed a tight smile. “Hi there.” Where had this kid come from? The only things in sight were a massive hill, a single cow, and a dirty pickup truck. All were more than football field away. “You’re not out here alone, right?”
The girl moved closer and looked at Charlotte’s shoes. She had packed her bright red Chanel rain boots for the trip, and even though it wasn’t muddy, they were the first thing she grabbed when realizing she’d have to ride that four-wheeler. High heels wouldn’t do.
“I’m a big girl. I can go as far as the pear trees as long as my daddy and uncles can see me,” the girl replied proudly. Her focus was still on Charlotte’s boots. The girl was wearing her own pair of mini cowgirl boots…which were getting closer and closer to Charlotte with each tiny step.
Charlotte had zero interest in, or knowledge about, kids. At all. But this girl was cute. Maybe she could help. “Hey, have you seen a dog around here?” she asked.
“You have pretty boots,” the girl said back, still inching toward her. One more step and her boot would touch Charlotte’s.
“Thanks, so, ah…dog? Have you seen one?”
The girl frowned. “Whose dog? There’s only one around here, and she belongs to Mrs. Gram. You’re a stranger.”
Great. Now she was in trouble with a kindergarten cop.
“I’m looking for Mrs. Gram’s dog. I’m her granddaughter.”
The girl’s eyes went wide, and a big smile overtook her face. “You live here now? We can climb the pear tree!” The girl darted back to the tree and grabbed on the lowest branch and dangled. No way could she get higher than that, but she liked the girl’s ambition.
“I’m staying here for a little while,” Charlotte said, trying for a different approach. “And Grammy really misses her dog, so I kind of need to find her.”
The girl dropped from the branch and frowned. “Mrs. Gram is sad?”
“Yes.” Clearly her grandmother had a bond with this child, and she liked that. This girl reminded her of herself as a kid—a little wild and all over the place.
The girl appeared to mull this over. “I will help you find Princess,” she said with a nod. “But I can’t go farther than this—tree.” The girl hit the trunk of the pear tree. “Daddy will be scared if I do.”
“Understood,” Charlotte said, glancing out at the truck that was still a hundred yards away. “What’
