Free Miss Ruffles Inherits Everything by Nancy Martin

highly of me.
    A million dollars?
    â€œYour mama was very generous,” I said to Miss Ruffles. “But also nuts. Who leaves so much to a dog? And not her family? I can’t help it. I think there’s something more going on.”
    Miss Ruffles smiled up at me and yipped with glee.
    I hauled her back to the porch to wash the mud off her. The two Hensley boys were on the porch swing by then, clearly having been dismissed from the family meeting. The sullen teenager, Trey, kept his cowboy hat on and his nose pointed at his cell phone, thumbs moving as fast as any teen could manage. The younger boy looked terrified when Miss Ruffles trotted into view.
    â€œDon’t let that mean dog get us,” Travis Joe said as he stood on the swing’s seat and clung to the chain. He looked ready to shimmy up to the ceiling. “She bit my brother once.”
    â€œShut up, wuss,” grumbled Trey. “It was just a nip. And I guarantee she won’t do it again. You have to show a dog who’s boss.”
    Miss Ruffles put her forepaws up on the swing to get a closer look at Travis Joe’s shoelaces, her next favorite treat after boots. He screamed and climbed onto the back of the swing. His brother swatted him.
    I dragged Miss Ruffles away and resigned myself to babysitting while Ten broke the news to Hut Junior and his wife. Trey, as unpleasant as he was, would be no problem as long as his phone battery held out. Travis Joe was another story. He was already running back and forth across the seat of the swing, fear forgotten, causing the swing to jangle dangerously on its chains.
    I held the dog’s collar and turned on the hose to rinse her off. Miss Ruffles snapped at the gush, delighted to be making another mess as the muddy water sluiced onto the grass. By the time my dress was half soaked, she was clean again. I shut off the hose. Miss Ruffles shook herself all over, spraying more water on me, then dashed out into the grass and rolled around with glee.
    Travis Joe laughed as I tried to brush off the water. He climbed down from the swing but hung on to the chain just in case he had to make a quick escape. With his bow tie and expensive haircut, the kid looked like he was on his way to Princeton. I wondered if anyone ever tossed a ball with him in the back yard. Was his father the too-busy executive? Was his mother the overprotective kind who didn’t want her baby getting messy?
    I said, “Want a Popsicle? Either of you?”
    Trey snorted, but Travis Joe perked up. “Orange?”
    â€œSure. You think your mom would be okay with that?”
    He said, “I ate a good lunch. Even my carrot sticks.”
    His brother made a rude noise with his lips.
    â€œOkay,” I said to Travis Joe. “There’s a box in the little freezer over there.”
    â€œI know where they are.” He clambered down and scampered into Honeybelle’s fancy outdoor kitchen. He bent down to the fridge; then his head popped up again. He had a crafty look on his face. “Can I have two?”
    â€œNo, just one.”
    No whining. He ducked out of sight again and found himself a treat. When he had carefully discarded the wrapper in a hidden trash can, he came back with the Popsicle in his mouth. He watched me wind up the hose.
    He pulled out the Popsicle. His tongue was orange already. “How come Miss Ruffles is such a bad dog?”
    â€œMiss Ruffles is nice. You just have to get to know her. Give it a try.”
    Miss Ruffles scrambled to her feet and bounded over to give the boy a panting grin with all her teeth showing. She wanted his Popsicle.
    â€œNo, Miss Ruffles,” I said firmly. “Why don’t you play nicely with Travis Joe?”
    â€œNo, ma’am.” Travis Joe shook his head vehemently. “I don’t want to play with her, and you can’t make me.”
    â€œI’ll hold her collar, and you can pet her.”
    â€œNo! I mean, no, ma’am.