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“That happens sometimes,” Reeves said. “You tell me as soon as you start feeling really cold, okay?” He lifted his poncho and slicked the water off to the side. “I’ve got some hand warmers here. I’m going to give you a couple, so we can keep you as warm as possible. Not much I can do about your back.”

“I’m okay,” Eric said.

Corrine hissed, and Reeves looked over to see Luke cleaning the dirt and gravel out of her scrape.

“It’s just a tiny scrape, bean,” he said. “One Band-Aid will cover it, and you’ll be fine.” Her teeth chattered too, and Reeves unzipped his bag and got out his jacket.

“Luke, she seems a little cold,” he murmured.

Luke finished up with the Band-Aid, looked at his daughter, and then turned toward Reeves. “Pull the poncho off real quick. Put this over everything, backpack and all.”

“I am a little cold, Daddy,” Corrine said, and she started to lift her poncho up, and over her head it went, sending several water drops splattering around the group.

Luke put the jacket on his daughter, and she pulled her knees up to her chest. He zipped the jacket around her whole body, and then recovered her with the poncho.

They’d eaten lunch a couple of hours ago, but Luke had brought snacks to the stream as they’d planned to hike, then fish, and then hike a little higher before returning to camp for dinner. Reeves had brought chicken nuggets and French fries with fruit and potato chips for the teens, and chicken tenders with extravagant dipping sauces for him and Luke. He figured he’d save the fancy meal for breakfast, as he normally made his steaks in the evening and wanted to switch it up for the video and the kids.

“Luke has some snacks he’s gonna pass out,” Reeves said, meeting the other man’s eyes once again. “Who’s feeling a little scared?”

OJ raised his hand, and Reeves gestured for him to come closer. “You come sit right in front of me, bud. This storm is going to be over in less than ten minutes. I just know it.”

“Can I see if my daddy texted back?” OJ asked, and Reeves hated the waver in the young man’s voice.

“Of course you can,” he said. “We can pass around my phone, and all of you can text your daddies if you want.”

“I made a group thread with all of your daddies in it, and Aunt Sterling too,” Luke said.

“I want to text my daddy,” Lars said as OJ scooted over and pressed back into Reeves’s backpack.

He unlocked his phone and handed it to OJ. “It’s that top one right there, bud. Tell us what they’ve all said too, would you?”

“Okay,” OJ said, and he took a deep breath. “Uncle Luke sent a long text about the storm and how we’re seeking shelter, and that if they don’t hear from us in one hour to call for help. He told them what campground we’re at, and reminded everybody what vehicles we drove, and that we’re camping only two hundred yards from the parking lot.”

Reeves smiled because OJ made this sound like he was narrating a summer Little League game and not an emergency text for help. “Aunt Sterling replied almost immediately and said, ‘I’ll text the family and get everyone praying.’ Then she said, ‘Don’t you dare do something crazy!’”

Luke chuckled, and Reeves did too.

“Then my daddy said, ‘Should I head that way right now? It’s a couple-hour drive, and maybe you’ll need some help?’”

Reeves shook his head. “Tell him he doesn’t need to come, OJ. We’ve got satellite phones and emergency gear, and we’re fine.”

OJ’s thumbs started to fly across the screen, and Reeves watched as he typed, We’re okay, Daddy. Reeves says you don’t need to come, because we have lots of gear, and we’ve taken shelter under some trees. He says the storm is going to pass in ten minutes, so just hold on, okay?

He sent that and scrolled back up.

“Uncle Trace said he’d get in the truck and go to my daddy’s house. Uncle Tex said he would call Graham Whittaker and let him know.”

Reeves’s heart filled with love for the Youngs and the Whittakers, the good men and women rallying around their loved ones…and him.

“Mav said he’d pray and go to Uncle Otis’s, and Morris said he’d just left Uncle Gabe’s and would go to Aunt Sterling’s place.” OJ twisted and looked back at Reeves. “Everything else was about prayers, and a couple of texts have come in while I was reading. They want an update.”

“Give the phone to Lars,” Reeves said. “You gave your daddy a little update, OJ. Lars, you tell your daddy you’re okay. Tell him what we did. Tell him where we are. Give him an update.”

The sound of plastic bags being passed out met Reeves’s ears, and he took the small, snack-size bag of Fritos from Luke.

“We’re gonna have a snack. We’ve got water.” Reeves exhaled heavily. “You know, we could sleep under these bushes tonight, and we’d be fine.”

“It’d be a little cold,” Luke said, cutting a glance in Reeves’s direction.