Not knowing exactly where she was took much of it away. Most Ozark homes and farms weren’t located too far apart, but there were also untouched acres of forest that had claimed canyons, and any other land too rocky for pasture or crops. Spent and discouraged, Maggie sat on a protruding shelf of shale while she caught her breath. Moonlight came and went as wind from the earlier storm pushed lingering clouds across the sky. Sheet lightning flashed in the distance, providing a snapshot view of her surroundings. She closed her eyes and folded her hands to pray, but only chaotic thoughts resulted. They darted madly through her mind like tiny fish in the shallows when a shadow fell over the water. Thoughts of rescue kept recurring. So did divine guidance. And—Flint? Maggie’s eyes popped open. “No. Not Flint. Anybody but him.” Surely God could send someone else to save her. The soft sound of her voice drew the weary dog and she draped an arm across his shoulders the way she would have a human friend.
