Okay, so calm down. Rein it in. But still—maybe, finally, he’d realigned the path he’d screwed up so badly.

He could talk to his father, see if there might be room for him at Sky King Ranch.

And then he’d take his time with Echo. Prove to them both that this time, there was nothing to fear.

He was turning to go back inside when he heard a dog’s bark, the same from last night, carry in the air.

The door opened. “Did you hear that?” Echo came out, bringing the smells of coffee with her. “That’s Goose, I’m sure of it.”

She stuck her finger and thumb into her mouth and whistled.

More barking.

She whistled again.

“There!”

A dog burst from the tree line near the house, snow flying up around his black-and-white body as he struggled toward them through the drifts.

“Goose!” Echo came off the porch, and Dodge went inside and grabbed her jacket.

By the time he came back to drape it over her, the dog was nearly in her arms.

He tackled her, kissing her face, pushing her back into the snow. She laughed and pulled him down to her. “You rascal. What are you doing here?” She sat up and he bounced away, barked at her.

“I know, I missed you too,” she said and got to her feet, pulling on her jacket. He wasn’t wearing his harness, but she reached out for him.

He bounced away again, set himself, and barked again.

“I think he’s trying to tell you something,” Dodge said.

She glanced at him, nodded, then turned back to Goose. The dog took off, running ten feet, then looked back.

“Okay. Let me get my pants on, dog,” she said.

Dodge followed her inside and they pulled on their outerwear. “Let’s leave the packs. We’ll come back for them,” he said, and she agreed.

He grabbed their helmets on the way out, and in a moment, they were on their sleds, firing them up.

Goose barked, running in circles, trampling the snow.

He turned and ran, and Echo shot off.

Dodge gunned after her, following in her track.

Yeah, he was hopeful too. Because it was that kind of day.

They followed Goose into the woods, along the ridgeline, slowing to duck under trees or move around tree wells.

And then they were out, motoring along the edge of the ridge. Goose stopped, barked, and worked his way down the side, into the gully below.

“Dodge!” Echo had already dismounted and was walking over to where Goose had alerted. “There’s someone down there!”

He stopped his sled and ran over to her. “Is it Peyton?”

“I can’t tell. She’s wearing a black parka—I think Peyton had a green one. But I could be wrong.”