He slowed his truck on the gravel. There it was. It had taken him all morning and miles of country back roads to find her. Heck, who was he kidding, it had taken his whole life to find her. He looked again just to be sure. Yup, he would know that bike anywhere—it was hers. Even the reflector on the post above the bike seemed to be pointing the direction for him to go. Beckoning him . . . come on, this way, over here.
He parked his pickup as far off the road as he could without hitting the old barbed wire fence and turned off the engine to scan the field to see if he could see her. She must be down the hill. He hopped out and walked around the truck and over to the bike. He glanced in the basket to see the duck feathers. He shook his head . . . this girl.
She went everywhere on this bike. Most wouldn’t ride a bike cross country through the limestone covered fields the way she did. Most would have grabbed a four-wheeler or side-by-side, especially to go this far out. But she said the motors scared the birds and she wouldn’t have it any other way.
He climbed the fence and walked over the hill just in time to see her release the duck onto the pond. He took a deep breath and headed down the hill to tell her about another rescue she had captured. But this one would never need releasing.