“On it,” said Reed, moving immediately back to the door and heading outside.

Katrina was probably stuck somewhere along the trail. Or maybe she’d grown tired and was resting. There was a slim chance she gotten herself into real trouble. But the river trail was well-marked and relatively smooth and safe. The odds were definitely on the side of a delay rather than a catastrophe.

He strode back across the driveway, hopping onto an ATV that was parked next to the barn. He turned the key and the machine roared to life beneath him. He glanced at the sky, judging he had at least an hour before dark. It should be plenty of time, but he wasn’t going to waste any of it.

He drove about four miles down the trail before he spotted her. The bike was tipped at the edge of the trail, and Katrina was crouched over it, looking small and forlorn in the midst of an aspen grove. She stood as he approached, and her shoulders relaxed as she obviously recognized that it was him. He saw the chain was off the bike, and her small hands were black with oil.

He’d give her an A for effort, but a failing grade for actual accomplishment. He knew six-year-olds who could reattach a bicycle chain. He brought the ATV to a stop and killed the engine as he dismounted.

“Looks like you’ve got a problem,” he opened, struggling not to smile at her rather adorable helplessness.

She gestured to the bike. “I came around the corner, hit a bump, and the chain fell off.”

His smile broke through as he checked out her blackened hands. “Any luck putting it back on?”

“Are you mocking me?”

He moved on to inspect the broken-down bicycle. “I’m making small talk, Katrina. Quit being so sensitive.”

“I’m not being-”

“You’ve got a chip a mile wide on those skinny little shoulders.”

“I’m not an auto mechanic,” she harrumphed.