It was only after Ryan stood and scooped his hat off the ground that she paused long enough to introduce herself.

“I’m Chloe,” she announced exuberantly, oblivious to the fact that she had frightened him half to death with her theatrical entrance.

Ryan hesitantly shook her tiny hand.

“I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Hi, I’m Ryan, nice to meet you.’”

“I’m sorry?”

“You do know your own name, don’t you?”

“Of course, I do, but—”

“Could’ve fooled me!” She continued skipping with gleeful abandon, her plaited blonde pigtails flying up and down as she went. Wearing a blue-and-yellow polka-dot dress, she couldn’t have been more than seven or eight years old, much too young to be at the ranch by herself.

“Um, little girl, where are your parents?”

The girl stopped in her tracks and rolled her eyes. “I’m eight and three-quarters, mister,” she said, correcting him. “And my name isn’t ‘little girl’—it’s Chloe.”

“Chloe, sorry, right.”

The smile returned to her face and she continued skipping, feasting her eyes on Ryan as though he were a present she might open at Christmas.

“It’s just like the book,” she added, humming a tune.

Ryan spun on the heel of his boots, trying to keep up with her as she whirled around. “Come again?”

Chloe paused to give him a weighty glare, then burst into laughter, hopping from foot to foot and swinging her arms as if she were wielding a giant sword. “The book, silly! About the girl who steps through the mirror and becomes a princess who can ride dragons!” She moved to slice his arms off with her imaginary sword, then sheathed her weapon, stood directly in front of Ryan, hands on hips, and said, “You must remember it?”

“Um, no, I’m not sure I know that one. Listen, how did you get here?”

Chloe laughed. “Mom brought me.”

“Your mom?” Ryan cast a confused look around the ranch. “And where might I find her?”

“You can’t, sorry.”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s not here right now. But she’ll be back later to pick me up.”

“I see.” Ryan scratched his chin. “And you’re here—because?”

She rolled her eyes again. “Because you’re going to teach me to ride horses.”

“Me?”

“You are Ryan, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but listen, we don’t do lessons. I mean, we used to, a long time ago, but not anymore.”

“Well, I’m definitely here for a lesson. Do I get to choose my own?”

“Choose your own what?”

“Horse,” she said merrily, spinning her gaze around the field.

“Whoa, can we slow down a moment? No one is picking any horses. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We do treks and trail rides here, that’s all. Now, I’m not quite sure exactly how you got here or why you—”