The Colonel ignored Lee’s statement, but Hannah’s heart warmed at her brother’s praise. Grant spent most of the year away at boarding school, and Mac favored the forest over human companionship. Lee and Hannah shared a love for learning. Secretly, Hannah preferred books over hiking and camping, too, but she’d never admit that. Not to the Colonel. Today, with light rain beading on the windows, staying home for the weekend sounded tempting. But bowing out might get her labeled a fair-weather soldier. She could be excluded from future weekends. Most of the time the Colonel spent with his children was focused on survival training, shooting, and self-defense, as he sought to pass along all the skills he’d accumulated as an army ranger. It was as if, after that roadside bomb in Operation Desert Storm robbed him of the use of his legs, he was living through his sons, particularly Grant.

“Mac!” The Colonel shouted into the hall.

“Coming.” The youngest of the Barretts, ten-year-old McClellan, skidded into the foyer. His half-empty backpack hit the floor at his feet with the metallic clunk of a loose canteen. Whippet-thin, Mac was wiry, quick, and much stronger than he appeared. The Colonel didn’t bother to inspect his youngest son’s pack. Mac was part wild thing and could likely exist for years in the forest with nothing more than his instincts.

Their father wheeled himself through the front door and into the dawn.

“Ready?” Grant asked her.

“You bet.” Hannah feigned confidence. Honestly, the weekend was going to suck. Two days of trudging through mud and a night of camping on the wet ground didn’t appeal, but this was what it took to be a Barrett, and Hannah wasn’t going to be left out because she hadn’t been born with a penis.

Grant led the way into the light rain. The three younger siblings fell in behind him. Hannah hoisted her pack over one shoulder and headed for the specially adapted SUV their father drove. They piled into the vehicle, and the Colonel headed west into the mountains. Hours later, he stopped the vehicle, and the four children stepped out into a clearing. Hannah zipped her jacket and fished a cap and gloves from her pack. Early autumn had an icy bite. They lined up for last-minute instructions.

The Colonel stayed in the vehicle. Though he was fully capable of getting out of the SUV and into his chair solo, the process wasn’t quick, and the mud would be an issue. Depression dimmed the blue of his eyes. The Colonel did his best to ignore his paralysis, but he would have loved nothing more than spending the next two days playing Rambo.

He issued orders through the open window. “Grant, you’re in charge.” The Colonel held up a walkie-talkie. They all had matching units on their belts. “Stay together. You have the coordinates for the rendezvous?”

“Yes, sir.” Grant answered.