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mistakes led to disaster way too often? Why didn’t he care?
    â€œDon’t underestimate them,” Sam told Jake. “Those dogs are dangerous.”
    Suddenly the lazing hound jumped to his feet. Then they all began barking. An answering bark came from River Bend Ranch. Blaze was fiercely protective, but he wouldn’t stand a chance against three trained hunters.
    â€œI’d better get going,” she said, gathering her reins. “But I think you should tell Linc about Dad.”
    Jake opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He wouldn’t enjoy giving Linc bad news. In fact, he’d hate it. Jake rarely spoke two sentences in a row to anyone. But Sam knew Jake would tell Slocum, because it was the right thing to do.
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    As soon as she reached the bridge’s midpoint, Sam’s eyes began searching for Dad. He’d promised to follow her, but once her horse clopped into the ranch yard, Sam realized he was nowhere to be seen.
    The saddle horses had wandered into their pasture on their own, so Sam dismounted and locked the gate behind them.
    It was a mystery how they’d escaped. She examinedthe lock and it worked the same as always.
    Dad would never forget to lock the gate. Neither would she, or anyone else on the ranch.
    It was a rule of ranch life that open gates stayed open, closed gates stayed closed. You learned the hard way—by wasting hours going after wandering animals—not to forget.
    Sam led Amigo to the hitching rail, tossed his reins over it, then went looking for Dad.
    It wasn’t just because she wanted his words of praise, she told herself. She wondered how he was feeling after that fall.
    Dad wasn’t in the barn, though Penny was, alert and ready to return to the ten-acre pasture. So, Dad hadn’t ridden after her.
    He wasn’t in the tack room, and though she knocked at the bunkhouse door and called for him, there was no answer there, either.
    Dad must be in the house. She’d only made it halfway there, when Gram came out on the porch.
    â€œYou got all of them, I see.” Gram’s arm circled Sam’s shoulders in a hug. “You’ve come a long way since this time last year.”
    Sam smiled so hard, she felt a twinge in her cheeks, but Gram didn’t give her long to gloat.
    â€œNow, I need you to weed around the base of these morning glories,” Gram said, pointing to vines with tightly closed blue flowers that twined up around the rabbit-proof fence that protected Gram’s garden.
    â€œOkay,” Sam said. “But where’s Dad? I need to tell him—”
    â€œAnd when you’re through with that, weed inside the garden itself, but those are carrots,” she said, pointing to feathery greens just showing above the dirt, “and those are radishes. Don’t pull them up by mistake.”
    â€œOkay,” Sam said, again, “but shouldn’t I tell Dad—”
    â€œThen,” Gram continued, with forced patience, “you can bring them some water. Plants can’t pull up roots and go looking for it themselves, you know.”
    â€œAre you just going to keep giving me chores till I stop asking about Dad?” Sam asked, exasperated.
    â€œNow, honey, why would I do that?” Gram asked.
    Sam didn’t guess aloud, but she’d bet Dad was taking a forced rest. He might be an adult, but Gram was still his mother.
    â€œI might as well tell you what I told your father, “Gram admitted. “He’s no good to any of us all crippled up.”
    Gram tried to sound harsh, but Sam wasn’t fooled.
    â€œYou made him take a nap, didn’t you?”
    â€œI might have suggested a hot shower and some aspirin,” Gram admitted. “And since he was upstairs anyway, I mentioned it would do him good to get off his feet.”
    â€œI’m amazed, Gram,” Sam said. “Dad never rests.”
    â€œYou’re old enough to know that fall shook himup a