Aware, too, of muffled sobs. Her fingernails bit into her palms. This had nothing to do with Corbett. It was a different time, a different place. Anyway, no one in the arena that day believed she could’ve saved Corbett. But she could save Dustin Spencer. She had her phone and she had her wits. And she had two other children to calm and be brave for. “Listen, you guys.” Liz gently dislodged them and put on a false smile. “Crying won’t help Dustin. I want you to tether the horses, take this blanket and sit right there.” She indicated a solid plot of ground adjacent to the well. “Talk to Dusty. Happy talk. Yell if you have to. He needs our strength right now.” “I want my daddy,” Rusty sniffed. “I’m scared.” She hugged him, then Melody, who’d grown deathly still, her eyes huge and fearful. “I’ll keep trying the bunkhouse. The minute one of the hands gets in, we’ll send him after your dad. Meanwhile, I’m going to contact the police and fire departments. Agreed?”
