That nasty mule, Rebar, caught sight of Ethan and his dog from the far corral and laid his ears back. Ethan grabbed his dog’s collar. Just in case. Right around the time Ethan was thinking he should wake Sam up if necessary, that his own situation was dire enough to warrant it, he saw the older man emerge from the tumbledown barn. Ethan waved desperately, windmilling with both arms. A smile broke onto old Sam’s face, and he approached the gate. “Ethan,” he said, as though this were merely a pleasant visit. Then, when he got close enough to see Ethan’s face, “Uh-oh. You look pretty upset. Everything okay?” “My father went out for a run yesterday morning and he’s still not back.” “Damn. That’s not good, is it? You call anybody?” “I tried to call Ranger Dave. But I only got a recording.” “Where does your dad run?” “He goes up into the mountains. Into the Blythe River Wilderness.” “How far?” “Farther than you’d think. He does twenty miles sometimes.
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