I open my door wide to fill the truck with fresh prairie air.  A steady westerly wind blows across my skin, and I immediately know I’m home.  The rolling Flint Hills stretch out for miles in front of me, green turning to gold in the late summer season.  The rains have been steady this year, and the grasses look elegant against the pale blue sky.  I let out a chuckle when I realize I can see ten times more cattle than I can trees.  

“What’s so amusing?” she asks.  

“I forgot how few trees there are,” I reply.  

She scans the horizon with a disdainful eye.  “That’s why no one lives here,” she says.

I refuse to let her cut bother me this time and instead close my door.  I walk to the back of the truck and drop the tailgate, swapping Birkenstocks for my trusty Timberland hiking boots.  Pulling the thick red laces tight through the eyelets, I feel a sensation of strength as I wrap the cords around the top lace hooks and tie off a double knot.  

She’s finally completed her prep work in the mirror and hops down out of the passenger side, gravel crunching under her running shoes.  

“This is where you want to hike?” she asks.  

“Yep.  The sights are already beautiful,” I say, giving her a long look up and down.  

“Which way?” she asks.  

“Let’s walk north across this hilltop, and then drop down to the creek bed there,” I say.  

She starts walking without another word.  I want to remind her of rattlesnakes as we approach the first rocky outcropping, but that would only give her ammo to cut the hike short, retreating to the safety of the truck.  

The grass grows a little longer near the rocks on top of the hill, and it sways peacefully in the breeze.  The cattle have plenty to graze on down below, no need for them to climb the mountain and pick tall grass out of this rocky patch.  

We begin the decent toward a tree line in the distance, a sure sign of water on the Kansas plains.  My blissful daydreaming is cut short.  

“This is lame,” she says.  “Nothing but old grass and burning sun.  No wonder you’re so boring.”  

For a moment, I contemplate turning around and sprinting to the truck, leaving her in a trail of gravel dust.  But she’d find a way home.  Someone would see her hot pink aura on the highpoint of these hills and give her a lift into town.  That’s why I need to keep her moving into the creek bed.  It’ll be much harder for anyone to find her body down in the shadows.