The Way Home by Becky Citra

feet dragging.
    When Tory opened the door, the phone was ringing in the den. She heard Oliver pick it up and then, after a few seconds, say, “Really!
All that way!”
    Her heart jumped.
    She raced into the den and stood beside Oliver, almost afraid to breathe, as he said things like, “How extraordinary.… His name is Lucky.… It was because of the fire…Well, we are grateful.” Oliver gave her a thumbs-up.
    In the long pauses while the person on the other end was talking, Tory thought she was going to explode. “Is he okay? Is he okay ?” she screeched in Oliver’s ear.
    Oliver frowned at her to be quiet. He listened for a few more minutes and said, “Yes,
I know how to find your place. Tomorrow afternoon, then. And thank you again.”
    Cathy was standing in the doorway, listening too. Oliver hung up. “You’ll never believe this!” he told them. “Lucky went right over the mountain. He showed up at a place called Rainbow Ranch. I remember it from when I was a kid. Hippies used to live there.”
    â€œHippies!” said Cathy.
    â€œThat was forty years ago. It sounds like there’s just a couple and a child living there now.” He grinned. “I was talking to a woman called Summer. Her husband’s name is Jonah. I’ll bet they wear love beads and bell-bottom pants!”
    Tory wasn’t sure what hippies were, but she didn’t care. “Is Lucky okay?” she demanded.
    â€œHe wasn’t at first,” said Oliver. “Their boy found him. Patrick. He’s eleven and he’s a foster child like you, Tory. Summer said Lucky’s legs were badly cut, probably from barbed wire. But he’s getting better quickly. They sound like people who care a lot about animals.”
    â€œHow did they know to call us?” said Cathy.
    â€œThey went into Springton today to sell vegetables at the farmer’s market. They stopped at the feed store to pick up some grain and spotted one of Tory’s signs on the bulletin board.”
    â€œThank goodness,” said Cathy. “Good for you, Tory, for thinking of making signs! Now maybe we’ll have some peace around here.”
    â€œCan we go right now? Please, please !” said Tory.
    â€œTomorrow.” Oliver was using his no-nonsense voice.
    Tory sighed. Tomorrow! How could she ever wait that long?

    The next day, Oliver hooked up the horse trailer. Tory sat on the edge of the truck seat all the way to Rainbow Ranch. They had to drive halfway to Springton and then over the mountain before they turned off on a gravel road that Tory had never been on before. The road followed a river that Oliver said was called Rainbow River.
    While he drove, he told Tory more about hippies. “They lived together and grew their own food and played guitars and the men all had long hair. They didn’t have proper jobs. They said things like groovy and far out .”
    â€œAnd they wore love beads and bell-bottom pants,” she reminded him.
    â€œRight.”
    Tory thought it must have been a lot of fun to be a hippie. She especially loved the peace sign that Oliver showed her how to make with her fingers. She leaned out the window and flashed the sign at some cows in a field.
    When they arrived at Rainbow Ranch, a little gray dog, a black and white spaniel, and a golden retriever all rushed out to greet them. Summer was thinning carrots in a large vegetable garden beside the house. She stood up and waved and walked over to the truck. Tory was disappointed. Summer was wearing ordinary blue jeans and a plaid shirt. There was no sign of any love beads! But she had a friendly smile.
    â€œI hope you don’t mind dogs,” she said. This is Monty, Charlie, and Emma. They can be a bit wild, but not one of them would hurt a flea.”
    â€œI love dogs!” Tory laughed when Monty, the golden retriever, put his front paws on her chest.
    â€œDown, Monty,” said