“Daddy,” I say again. My voice sounds so small, so frightened, that I wince. “Something bad happened.” Instantly, he’s on alert. That roughrider who rode bulls and busted broncs and would always do anything to help me. “You need help, Koty?” “Yes,” I whisper, feeling like I’ve died and gone to hell. I fight down the sob that tries to escape. “I’m in trouble. My car broke down. I’m—I’m—” I search the road for a sign. “I’m in Sioux Falls.” “You hurt, baby girl?” I look down at my arm, knowing nothing can prepare my father for this. “I am.” “You tell me where you are and I’ll make it right.”
