Pole Position (Country Roads 2)

“You’re welcome.”

Brant started to act uncomfortable, shifting from one foot to the next. “How about we go unload?”

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“Let her finish drinking her hot chocolate.”

Brant took his cup from the box and discarded the lid.

“Hey! You can’t litter around here. I have to keep my yard clean.”

Immediately, Brant looked left and then right. Colt did the same. Their gazes met and held. Thinking it might be another make-believe situation, Colt made the inquiry, “Where exactly is your castle, little princess?”

She pointed at the shipping container that still had labels attached to the front. “Have you ever heard the story about Barney’s Barrel?”

Brant shook his head. Colt nodded. “Do you live in a barrel?”

“No, silly,” she replied. “If there was a barrel ’round these parts, one of the local drunks would probably get to it first. I live right here.” She knelt beside the box and pulled the thick side flaps open. Surprisingly, the cardboard was studier and thicker than first appearances suggested.

Brant and Colt eyed the substitute door. “Oh my God,” Brant mumbled. “This can’t be.”

He voiced what Colt was thinking.

“You live here?” A suffocating sensation threatened to collapse Colt’s lungs. He kept Princess in his peripheral vision as she gave them a glimpse of the place she called home. The area consisted of ratty blankets piled one on top of the other, though neatly layered, and a round sofa pillow. An old teddy bear occupied the far left corner, driving home one pertinent fact. Princess was a homeless child living alone.

“That’s Ralph,” she said, pointing.

“Ralph,” Brant muttered in a broken voice, immediately turning away.

“Would you like to hold him?”

“No,” Brant replied. “Thanks.”

Colt continued to take in the girl’s inadequate housing. Her décor included a silk green curtain draped over two sides of the box with ribbons tied at all ends. A few small items were scattered about. A bottle of water claimed the space next to a soda can containing a bright red toothbrush with worn and quite disfigured bristles.

“You have a lovely home,” he somehow managed, backing away from the heartbreaking image.

“It’s not much,” she said, shrugging. “But I’m sure thankful for what I’ve got. This old box doesn’t look like a lot, but with the big branches from the tree to shield us, Ralph and I rarely get cold unless we have high winds or a real heavy snow.”

Kentucky had been slammed with a lot of snow in recent weeks. He wondered how Princess survived freezing conditions and inclement weather when her home was a cardboard box.

“How long have you lived here?” Colt asked.

“About two years. Not in this box, of course, but when this one gets ratty, I go dumpster diving and find another one, good as new.”

“You go what?” Brant asked, dumbfounded.

“You know, prowl through the garbage cans.”

Colt didn’t think he could stomach much more. Determined to fight back the tears threatening to slip down his cheeks, he finally managed to ask, “Honey, what is your name?”

She bowed her head. Her arms dropped to her sides and she took a few minutes to answer. When she finally looked at them again, a bit of sadness flashed in her aqua-colored eyes, but it was instantly replaced with a new sparkle of blue. “I don’t have a name. I borrowed the name Princess because one of these days, I’ll live a fairy-tale life. I just know it.”

Chapter Two

Colt and Brant checked in at the Black Mountain Cabins right before the first ATV run. Brant hadn’t said a handful of words since their chance encounter with the little girl who finally admitted she wasn’t sure if she even had a name.

After they unloaded their belongings and took a quick peek at their rustic accommodations, they rolled their four-wheelers off the trailer. “We have about fifteen minutes,” Brant said, checking out their expensive wheels.