Charlotte encouraged her forward, and after a few tries, the horse plodded across the creek. “She’s a little water shy,” she said when she reached the other shore.
“That’s what this trial run is for. I’ll see what I can do about that, but in the meantime, I can help her across if necessary.”
They went on through the pasture where the other horses had been turned out. Midnight was standing by himself on the far side of the field. The horse that had been full of anxiety when he’d been brought to the ranch was now grazing peacefully, head lowered, ears turned out to the side.
Gunner had been engaging with Midnight regularly in thestall, slow and steady. He didn’t trust people. And he was even a bit of a loner when it came to the herd. He wouldn’t stand for being picked on, so Gunner didn’t think he was an omega. More likely an alpha.
The horse’s ears turned toward them. His head followed and he watched as Gunner and Charlotte passed by the fence.Hang in there, buddy. It’sgonnabe all right.
Eleven
After finding Lisa Robinson’s maiden name in a high school yearbook, Charlotte was able to access her public divorce record and discover the name of Charlotte’s father: Craig Burton.
Such an ordinary name. If her mom had married him, she would’ve been Charlotte Burton. She and her father would’ve shared the same initials.
Enough of that. Dreaming of what could have been was pointless. Besides, she never would have traded Dad and Emerson for the life she could’ve had. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t eager to find and get to know her biological father.
After trying a few different searches, she’d located a listing for a property on Rock Branch Road he’d bought years ago with his wife (at the time), Lisa.
But in the two weeks since Charlotte had learned his name and located the listing, she’d learned little else about the man. No pictures were to be found online, at least none she thought might be of her father. Certainly no social media profiles that seemed promising. She’d boldly friended Gavin on Facebooklast week. But he rarely posted anything, and Craig Burton wasn’t listed as a friend under his profile—or even Cooper’s (whom she’d also cyberstalked but hadn’t friended).
She’d located almost twenty Craig Burtons in North Carolina alone, eight of them in the right age range. However, she couldn’t just randomly call these men and ask if they were Cooper and Gavin’s dad, could she? Anyway, who knew if the man even lived in North Carolina after all these years?
He might not even be alive. Maybe that’s why she’d never heard anything about him. The thought of having lost him before she’d had a chance to meet him weighted her stomach. But she hadn’t located an obituary online, so she was hopeful.
Pushing aside her fear, she toggled toThe Herald’s website and put his name in the search engine. A few seconds later three mentions popped up.
The floor creaked above her head as Emerson moved around upstairs. Her sister had been distant since learning about Charlotte’s secret family. Charlotte tried to be understanding, but she was losing patience with Emerson’s cold-shoulder treatment.
On a happier note, Gunner had settled into his role on the ranch. He’d taken a lot of work off her plate, which allowed her to focus on the grand opening. He’d also worked wonders with the horses. Stella would now cross streams without hesitation and did less grazing on the job.
The trail rides were also going well. Now that they’d earned a few five-star customer reviews online, reservations were building. She’d taken a couple of groups when Gunner was otherwise tied up with training. She enjoyed regaling the guests with the history of her family ranch and the town ofRiverbend Gap. Enjoyed showing off their beautiful property and quality horses.
Her gaze homed in on one of the online articles and she clicked on it. She skimmed the account of a break-in at a local gas station. The journalist interviewed the employee who’d been on duty at the time—Craig Burton. The article was only five months old.
The piece gave little away about the employee. But Charlotte’s pulse picked up at the few quotes in the article. It was possible this was her father, wasn’t it? The shop was located in Weaverville, which was only thirty minutes away. It would make sense that he’d settle nearby.
She did a few quick searches, trying to learn more about this Craig Burton from Weaverville, but came up empty. The man likely still worked at the gas station. She checked the time and the business hours. It would remain open until nine tonight.
What if she just drove over and filled her tank? Checked it out? Maybe he was on duty. And if he was, maybe she’d recognize something of herself—or her brothers—in his face that would confirm he was her father. Maybe he would even recognize her—she bore a fair resemblance to her mother.
That was a lot of maybes. But worth the short drive. She closed her laptop and jumped up from the table, hands trembling at the possibility of meeting her birth father that very night.
Don’t get ahead of yourself.
It probably wasn’t him, and even if it was, he might not be working tonight. Even so, she couldn’t seem to stop herself from taking the chance. She’d talked to Gavin briefly twice more since the conversation at the Trailhead, but at this rate she’dbe a senior citizen before she knew him well enough to inquire about his father.
She grabbed her purse and called up the stairs, “Em, I’m going out for a while.”
She waited, listening, but there was no response.
“Em, did you hear me? I’m heading out.”
“All right,” her sister called in a neutral tone.
Charlotte sighed. She slipped outside, where the heat of the day lingered even though the sun had dropped behind the mountains. Being past suppertime, Gunner had already left for the day, but he’d stabled the horses before he went. She’d do a night check when she got home.
As she got into her truck, Midnight’s snorting carried from the barn. Gunner said he was making slow progress with the horse, but it would take time. Some horses never recovered from trauma.
