The day that terrible phone call came was one that would never be forgotten in the Forster home.

"Hello, Wyatt? This is Sheriff Ballard…

Samantha Forster, seven years old, sent her stubby pony after her best friend Jake. Jake Ely, having reached the wise and experienced age of 9 years old, trotted proudly on his first real horse. Chestnut and sturdy, the quarter horse snorted in the early morning air, strutting a bit in his eagerness to stretch his legs.

Hearing the thudthudthudthud of the pony behind him, Jake turned in the saddle.

"Aw Sam, leave me alone! Can't see I'm doin' serious cowboyin' work?" Of course the boy didn't really want her to leave. He had to have someone see how good he was doing after all. And, always determined, Sam stuck her tongue out at him and rode up next him. Auburn hair fluttered into her face and she impatiently tugged it behind her ears.

Her pony, Colossus (nicknamed Cully, for Colossus really was hard to get out through her missing front teeth), tossed his head, sending his heavy forelock up over his ears and out of his eyes. Sam giggled and called for Jake to wait up, for his long, horsey strides took him far ahead of poor Cully.

I- I don't know how to tell you this…

Sam and Jake rode back to Riverbend. If they weren't back by sundown, it meant no riding the next day, and neither could imagine such a horrible punishment. Besides, Sam's mom promised to make lasagna that night and the two of them practically drooled at the prospect. Mmmm…

Crossing the wooden bridge, Sam looked into the swirling blue water beneath the bridge, imagining it welcoming her home after her adventures. Her river- La Charla. She remembered when her mom took her out to its sloping banks one night, after bedtime. Way after bedtime, she had later boasted to an envious Jake. Sitting on a flattened rock, Mom had told her stories about the river. She said that it talked to whoever would listen and if she ever felt lonely, she should just listen to the river.

Sam had smiled, "Rivers don't talk!" But Mom had insisted, and now every time Sam passed by, she tried to hear it.

You see, there was an accident, out near Sawyer's place…

As soon as they had entered the ranch yard, something seemed wrong to Sam. She looked around, trying to pinpoint her unease. Everything seemed normal. Blaze lay panting on the front porch, and next to him, her dad and Dallas were talking quietly. Sam smiled knowingly, remembering a joke she and her mother shared. 'I swear Samantha, the only time a cowboy will talk loud is to a cow.' Jake rode his horse over to the hitching post and Sam tagged behind. She slid down from her saddle, and, very carefully in case Dad were watching, loosened the cinch, slid Cully's bit out of his mouth, and tied his reigns to the post in a secure slip knot.

Sam peeked towards Dad again. He hadn't watched. She felt slightly disappointed but shrugged it off. Running on her small, 7 year old legs, she raced to him. Jake followed slowly behind in his proud, 'cowboy' walk.

"Daddy! Guess what? Jake got a horse! A big one!" Her arms reached as far as they could around his middle. To her shock, Dad hugged her back real tight and started crying. Dad never cried.

A really bad accident…

Seven year old Samantha Forster sat in an uncomfortable church pew, all in black, between Dad and Jake. A preacher stood in front of the church going on about some woman who was a responsible, dedicated person who had died before her time.

Sam had to keep reminding herself he was talking about Mom.

Her head hurt, the velvet of her dress was itchy. She just wanted to go home and put on her favorite horseshoe pajamas and have Mom make her hot chocolate and read her a story. But Mom couldn't do that anymore.

She still wasn't really sure what happened, but Dad said Mom wasn't coming back, and a lot of people in black kept coming up to her and telling her how sorry they were. Sam shuddered. She hated the color black.

A lump in throat made it hard to breath, her eyes kept blurring, and no matter how many times she swiped at her cheeks, they kept getting wet. Beside her, proud, wise, nine year old Jake grabbed her small hand and held it, trying to keep all form of liquid inside his eyes. Cowboys don't cry.

The car swerved, around a herd of antelope I think…

The service finally ended, and everyone went to the Forster house. As soon as the car stopped, Sam tore off the itchy velvet dress and ran across the ranch yard in her slip. Stumbling blindly to the large, flat rock, Sam did nothing to stifle the tears, only stopped sobbing and shut up. Mom said that she needed to listen. That when she was lonely, the river would talk to her.

And though there were lots of people pouring into Riverbend, she had never felt as alone as right now. River sounds met her ears. Normal ones—water rushing over rocks, crickets singing on the bank, the small splash of a jumping frog. Still straining, Sam thought she heard something else. Whether it was her imagination or real, Sam heard her mother's voice one last time.

"Just listen, Sam. I'll always be here." Sam sat back on her heels, staring into the rushing water. She sat there for a long time, thinking and listening.

Finally Dad's call shattered her trance. There he came, black dress dangling in one hand, seeming stiff and uncomfortable in his suit. Shrugging out of his coat, he looked a little more relaxed as he strode down to where Sam sat.

"Sam, what're you doin' down here?" he asked, sounding tired and sad. Sam turned to look back over the water before scrambling into Dad's arms.

"Just listening."

Wyatt… Louise was killed."

A/N: tissues for all. I swear, I started crying as I was writing it. I know I didn't put Gram in this, but I couldn't fit her anywhere. You know she's there.