After the fox incident Minnie acknowledged—in her head anyway—that she wouldn't have to worry quite so much about her children. They knew to pray. This acknowledgement lasted a few days.
That very Saturday afternoon, she lost track of eight-year-old Mary. She’d gone off for a bike ride early in the afternoon and hadn't returned.
Minnie sent Billy out to look for her. He returned, “I rode up and down the whole road. She’s not anywhere. Can I go play now?” Obviously he wasn't worried.
About an hour later Mary came pushing her big blue bike with the balloon tires up the driveway, her pant-leg torn and bloody. Mary’s very white face was covered in dry blood.
“What happened to you?”
“I did what Billy said.”
She dropped her bike on the side lawn and sat on the front step. Minnie sat beside her. “What did Billy say?”
Billy who was playing with the new dog in the side yard came over, “Yeah, what did I say?”
“You said it was really fun if you take your bike to the top of the hill, coast halfway down and then pedal like crazy to the bottom. My bike started shaking before I even reached the bottom. And I didn't even start pedaling until I was almost all the way down. I had my brakes on for the whole first part.” She looked at Billy in accusation.
“I didn't mean to start at the very top. That would be stupid.” Billy went back to playing with the dog.
Minnie cleaned Mary up and sent her to bed.
She worried that Mary might have a concussion so she woke her up every 15 minutes.