One incident stood out in his memory. Their laughter had drawn his father’s attention, but when Max entered the room, they stopped and sat silent, staring at him. What had they been laughing about? He couldn’t remember. Max had stood a moment, then turned and left the room. Had Zachary filled some place in his mother’s life that his father failed to fill? Sadly, he could no longer ask his mother this or many other questions.

Because their relationship so often excluded his father, Zachary felt responsible for his mother’s happiness and had tried in every way to please her, suppressing his adventurous and more reckless nature so as not to cause her worry. Her illness and her death devastated him, but it freed him. He felt no guilt then about packing and leaving Covington less than a week after her passing. He ought, perhaps, to have explained to his father where he was going, what he planned to do. Instead, he had opened the door early one Sunday morning and vanished for a very long time. Reprehensible behavior, yes, but he remembered his delight in being free and far from cows, Covington, and Max.

The sun sank low. The air chilled him. Damn it, he’d paid no attention to the time. He must make his way down the mountain before nightfall. Zachary moved downhill as fast as he dared. The steep ground propelled him forward almost at a run from tree to tree. Suddenly a twist and a sharp pain speared his ankle and he hit the ground hard and doubled over.

Nausea born of pain brought tears to his eyes. He assessed the situation. His palms were bruised, his left elbow scraped and bleeding. When he touched the elbow, tiny bits of stone clinging to the cut fell to the earth. Blood stained his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he struggled unsuccessfully to stand. He knew, then, that he had either torn a ligament or broken his ankle.

Through the cobweb of broken glass that had been his watch, he could barely see that it was 8 P.M. Soon the light would vanish.

Max checked the time. It was almost eight and growing dark. “Zachary’s not back. I’m worried.” He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m being paranoid,” he told Hannah. “He’ll pop in here any minute. After all, he’s climbed mountains.”

Hannah shook her head. “I’m worried. Zachary should have been back an hour ago. What kind of supplies did he take with him, do you know?”