It seemed strange that Mam would still be there. As I trudged through the snowy meadows the cows barely looked up. They’d been fed a big round bale of hay, and tractor tracks circled back to the barn. I hopped into the tracks and started to run. As I rounded the corner of the barn Stew Pot bounded over and thumped his big paws on my shoulder. He whined softly, which wasn’t like him at all. “Hey, boy, what’s the matter?” I asked as my eyes zipped across the barnyard. A dark, muddy gash led to the snowy creek bank and from there down into the rushing water and to Mr. Mac’s pet of a tractor. The tractor bucked and swayed as the water crashed and sprayed against its big tires. Its hay fork bobbled up and down as it seemed to claw at the gash in the creek bank. I sucked in my breath as I ran toward it. Where was my mom? No sign of her. I spun, not daring to breathe. Suddenly, over the roar of rushing water, I heard her voice coming from behind Ol’ Yeller.
