“I’ll stay here and hold down the bed,” Renata offered, collapsing into the armchair.
Banshee sniffed his way around the perimeter of the room and sat, staring at her.
“Pass inspection?” she asked Banshee. “No rats? Or snakes?”
“Or armadillos,” Scarlett added. “I hate armadillos.”
Banshee’s tail thumped.
“Doesn’t look like it. Good news,” Tandy said, rubbing her dog behind the ear and refusing to look out the window. Here she was, surrounded by an ocean of waving gold grass and wildflowers and rugged cliffs. Yet, just beyond the barbed-wire fence sat Lynnie’s house. And Click’s large gray truck.
“Lightbulbs,” Renata said, pointing at the ceiling fan overhead. The light fixture was bare.
“And candles,” Scarlett said, looking under the sink. “I’m thinking you’ll lose power whenever a storm rolls through. Candles are cheaper than batteries.”
Tandy grinned. Leave it to her ridiculously wealthy cousin to be cost-conscious. “Candles sound good. And matches.” She opened the small wood-burning stove built into the far wall. “Wood, too, I guess.”
“How about we bring in your gear and see what’s missing,” Renata said from the chair. “And when I say we, it’s understood that I’m not moving from this chair.”
Tandy laughed.
“Maybe you can bring in the bedding first?” she groaned, draping an arm across her eyes.
Scarlett giggled. “That’ll teach you.”
“Oh, I’ve learned my lesson, I promise,” Renata moaned. “No tequila. And no men. We should start a club.”
Tandy shook her head. “I’m getting my stuff.” She propped the front door open and headed for her truck, Banshee at her heels. “What do you think?” she asked him. “Lots of room to run. Peace and quiet—”
Banshee whimpered, staring at the fence line.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, following his gaze.
The hot West Texas wind carried the distinct sound of crying to her. A baby crying. She slowed, glancing at Lynnie’s house. Click was there, slowly making his way around Lynnie’s porch with Pearl in his arms. He was bouncing her, almost dancing with her—but Pearl kept right on crying.
Banshee whimpered again. He loved kids—loved them. Tandy had taken him to every babysitting gig she’d had, so it was a natural development. Somehow the dog had determined that, since he lacked a herd to care for, his job was wrangling babies and children. And now there was a baby in need. The dog stared at her, golden eyes shimmering.
“Hate to point this out, but you’re my dog,” she said. But poor Pearl was wailing. Her dog wasn’t the only one with a weakness for children. She sighed and gave up. “Go on.”
Banshee took off, his tawny coat a flash in the tall grass, knocking wildflowers flat as he made a beeline for Pearl. Tandy waited. The minute Banshee reached Lynnie’s porch, he barked and ran around Click’s long legs. Pearl’s wails came to an abrupt stop.
And Click laughed.
She swallowed hard and turned back to her truck, tugging her bag from the back with so much force, she wound up falling on her butt. She sat there, fighting laughter—and tears—taking slow calming breaths.
“What can I carry?” Scarlett asked. “You okay?”
She pushed off the ground. “I’m fine. A dork, but fine. Grab what you can.” She grinned. “Bedding is in that suitcase.”
Scarlett reached inside for the bag. “You sure you’re going to be okay out here?”
“It’s not so bad,” Tandy said, inspecting the small cabin. Truth be told, it would be nice to have the space.
“I’m not talking about the cabin.” She nodded at her neighbors. “What if he stays?”
Tandy shook her head, impersonating her uncle Woodrow as she said, “Let’s not put the cart in front of the horse.?
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