“We’re not looking for that damn cat, Bobby!” Jake snapped, sharper than he meant. “Whisper Creek has flooded its banks, we have to go the long way home. We don’t have time to look for a cat.”
Bobby hesitated… then dropped the cage anyway.
Jake didn’t try to catch it. The metal clanged on the ground beside him.
Then Bobby stepped onto the ladder—and it gave way completely.
“Bobby!” Jake dove forward just as his brother fell, limbs flailing. He caught him hard, the boy’s slight weight knocking him backwards. They crashed onto the muddy ground together, Jake grunting as his back hit hard.
They didn’t move for a moment.
Then Bobby clung to him.
“I was so scared,” he whispered, voice muffled against Jake’s chest.
Jake tightened his arms around him. “I know, kid. I know.”
But Jake sensed it wasn’t just the fall Bobby was talking about.
“You were here alone a long time,” he said softly. “That would scare anybody.”
Bobby shook his head, breath hitching. “Not that.” A pause. “Avery. She was tied up.”
Jake’s chest tightened. That must have been terrifying for his little brother.
He sat up slowly, pulling Bobby with him. The storm outside raged louder now, wind howling through the cracks in the walls. “I know. Mom knows. We think that the people who went to the Mendozas’ house robbed Greg Baldwin and then got stuck in the storm last night.”
“I saw one of the men earlier and hid in the barn. I knew Avery was in trouble, but I was so afraid of being seen I hid.”
“You did the right thing.”
“But what if I could have gotten help earlier? And when the man left, I went to help, but Avery was all tied up in Gianna’s room. And there were still people there. We have to get her!”
Bobby was ten, he was old enough to know the truth.
“I talked to Mom before I came here. She went to the Mendozas, and they’re fine, but the two people who were with that man you saw, they took Avery.”
“It’s my fault!” Bobby sobbed.
“You are a ten-year-old kid who hid from kidnappers, Bobby. You got awayandyou got help. You called Ryan, right? I wouldn’t have known where you were if you hadn’t told him. You did the right thing.”
But Bobby was shaking his head, eyes wide and wet. “She saw me, and I ran. I should’ve stayed. I should’ve done something. I could have gotten help. Icouldhave!”
Jake wrapped an arm around his brother’s shoulders and held him tighter. “You did what you had to do. And we’re going to find her, okay? We’ll get her back.”
But his gut twisted. He knew what these people were capable of. They had shot Greg Baldwin and his dog. They were ruthless and likely scared of being caught. Panicked criminals were even more dangerous, like a trapped animal.
At that moment, Jake missed his dad more than ever. He was supposed to be the man of the house now, and he was terrified that something bad would happen to Avery, something that Jake couldn’t stop.
His dad had been a rock. He never raised his voice, but a stern look was more effective than a verbal lashing. He never raised his hand, but his quiet, “I’m disappointed in you, you know better,” was more effective than a beating. He never held a grudge, hispunishments were more instructive than punitive, and he taught Jake everything about farming, the land, the animals.
“It’s in your blood, son, like it’s in mine. Whatever you do with your life, you’ll end up here.”
The last time Jake had seen his dad was the morning he died. Jake was driving to school, Avery in the front seat reading—Jake never understood how she could read in the car, but that’s what she did almost every morning on their drive to school. Lyla was in the backseat staring out the window, her expression tight, brow furrowed, as if she was trying to figure out the cure for cancer. And Bobby was chattering away about how he and Grandma had seen a fox when they picked blackberries that morning before school.
Jake had turned down Privett Road, past the Coulters’ land, down to the small section that his family owned just south of the Coulters, where their cattle currently grazed. His dad was on his horse, riding back and forth to urge the cows east, where it would be easier to divide and load those they planned to sell Wednesday at the auction in Gainesville. Jake was taking the day off school to help—a lot of kids did—and it was one of his favorite chores. Jake was definitely more a cattle rancher than a farmer, while his dad preferred farming. In fact, it had been Jake who’d convinced him a couple years back to increase their cattle because they were consistently turning a profit at market.
Jake honked, and his dad turned to look at them. John McKenna smiled, raised his hand in greeting. Bobby said—though their dad couldn’t hear—“Hi, Daddy!” and waved frantically from the backseat. “Jake, Daddy said I can go to market with you on Wednesday!”
