Twice, Jeff ran to the back of the truck. "Dad, we can't do it. The nuts are rusted. Can you just—"

"Good," he said. "Now you know. Get in. I'll drive us to a garage." That night, after hot showers and a quiet dinner, Jeff finally asked the question that burned in both their minds. "Dad, why didn't you help?"

Jeff, watching his brother, stopped panicking about the map and started thinking logically. He realized they had passed a farmhouse two miles back. He marked the spot.