“I’m not like you, Echo. I don’t revel in that world. That life is . . . it’s too big. Too . . . wild. Too alone.”

Yes, she had dreams. She’d simply already found them.

And sadly, just let them drive away.

Her eyes slicked, and she blinked the moisture away before it froze.

She reached the house. Jester and Merlin began to bark in their pen, and she wondered whether—hoped that—her dad had fed them. But when she went to the pen and shone a light on their bowls, they were empty, along with the auto feeder. Their water bucket, fed to them by the heated water barrel, looked full, so she went into the nearby shed and scooped out kibble into a large container. She added vitamins to it and a few frozen chunks of salmon that would thaw with the warmed water. Then she added the heated water and opened the pen.

Goose shoved in past her, anxious for dinner—he, too, hadn’t eaten since she fed him breakfast at the cabin that morning. And who knew how long the other dogs had gone. Funny that her dad had let the auto feeder go empty. She glanced toward the house. No trickle of smoke from the chimney, but it was hard to see in the darkness. Still, the main light burned. He was probably in his office.

She poured the kibble concoction into bowls, and the dogs dug in, snuffing and chewing and wagging their tails.

She ran a hand down Merlin’s sleek brown-gray body, and it occurred to her that Iceman was still at Dodge’s house.

In good hands, no doubt.

She closed the gate, then walked over to the chicken pen.

Oh no. One of the chickens lay dead in the pen, frozen, a bite out of its neck.

She didn’t see any other foul play, but maybe the coyote had gotten in before Granite had chased it away. Going inside, she grabbed the carcass off the ground and threw it into the woods. Weird that her father hadn’t noticed it, but maybe it just happened.

Gregory, her rooster, squawked at her as she closed the pen, as if to say, “I got this.”

She smiled, hearing Dodge’s voice today in the plane.

“I got this.”

Yes, yes he did. And frankly, if there was anyone born to be a rescue pilot, it was Dodge.

Let him go. Let him live his dreams. She did the right thing. She knew it in her heart.

“Charlie raised you on the homestead. He taught you how to survive. How to thrive. I couldn’t do that.”

Maybe, in a way, her mother had let her go too.

She shook the thought away. No. Parents were supposed to sacrifice for their children.

Except, what about her dad? “You had the backpack and that grizzly bear I sent you—”

Oh, Dad. Maybe he didn’t want to give her hope.