"Look at this view, Papa." Samantha gently lifted his head so he could see the splendor outside. "You made it to the Columbia River." He rested against her. "The Columbia," he said slowly. "We did it." "Yes, we did." She lay Papa back down to rest, but moments later he sat up again, his voice more urgent this time. "I haven't been a good father to you." "Yes, you have." He shook his head. "Forgive me?" She had nothing to forgive him for, but she kissed his forehead anyway. "Of course." "You take care of Micah, good care of him." She looked over at her brother, asleep under the blanket. "We'll both take care of him." Papa shook her arm with surprising strength, like he had to make Samantha understand. "You need to care for him." She choked out, "I will, Papa. Don't worry."