The biker remained kneeling, unable to look away from the little girl.<\/p>\n
\u201cYour father had this tattoo?\u201d he asked quietly.<\/p>\n
The girl nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe told me it meant family.\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker slowly looked down at the bird tattoo on his own arm.<\/p>\n
His throat tightened.<\/p>\n
Only members of one motorcycle club had ever worn that design.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow old are you?\u201d he asked.<\/p>\n
\u201cSeven.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd what’s your dad’s name?\u201d<\/p>\n
The little girl smiled faintly.<\/p>\n
\u201cRyan Walker.\u201d<\/p>\n
The moment she spoke the name, every biker standing behind the lead rider fell silent.<\/p>\n
One removed his cap.<\/p>\n
Another closed his eyes.<\/p>\n
The lead biker stood slowly, stunned.<\/p>\n
\u201cI never thought I’d hear that name again,\u201d he whispered.<\/p>\n
The girl looked confused.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou knew my daddy?\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker nodded.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe wasn’t just our brother.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe was the man who started this club.\u201d<\/p>\n
The little girl’s eyes filled with hope.<\/p>\n
\u201cThen you know where he is!\u201d<\/p>\n
The biker’s expression grew heavy.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe’ve been searching for him for eight years.\u201d<\/p>\n
Her smile slowly disappeared.<\/p>\n
\u201cMy mom always said he was coming home.\u201d<\/p>\n
The lead biker gently reached into his leather vest and removed a faded photograph.<\/p>\n
It showed a younger Ryan standing with the very same group of bikers, all smiling beside their motorcycles.<\/p>\n
The little girl pointed at the picture immediately.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat’s him!\u201d<\/p>\n
Tears formed in the biker’s eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe hasn’t changed.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d the girl whispered.<\/p>\n
\u201cHe still smiles like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
The bikers exchanged puzzled looks.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d one asked.<\/p>\n
The girl reached into the pocket of her pink jacket.<\/p>\n
She carefully pulled out a folded letter, worn from being opened many times.<\/p>\n
\u201cDaddy gave this to Mom before he left.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cShe told me if I ever found someone with the bird tattoo, I should give it to them.\u201d<\/p>\n
The lead biker unfolded the letter with trembling hands.<\/p>\n
The handwriting was unmistakable.<\/p>\n
It belonged to Ryan.<\/p>\n
The first line made his heart race.<\/p>\n
“If you’re reading this, then my daughter found her way to my brothers.”<\/strong><\/p>\n Silence settled over the gas station.<\/p>\n The desert wind was the only sound.<\/p>\n The biker continued reading.<\/p>\n “Don’t waste time looking for me. By the time you read this, I’ll already be where I chose to be.”<\/strong><\/p>\n Confused murmurs spread through the group.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat does that mean?\u201d one biker asked.<\/p>\n Before anyone could answer, the little girl quietly spoke.<\/p>\n \u201cMy daddy isn’t gone.\u201d<\/p>\n Everyone turned toward her.<\/p>\n \u201cHe sends me a birthday postcard every year.\u201d<\/p>\n The lead biker froze.<\/p>\n \u201cThat… isn’t possible.\u201d<\/p>\n She reached into her small backpack and pulled out the newest postcard.<\/p>\n It had arrived just three days earlier.<\/p>\n Across the front was a picture of a mountain highway.<\/p>\n On the back, written in Ryan’s familiar handwriting, were just six words:<\/p>\n “Same promise. Same road. Keep believing.”<\/strong><\/p>\n The lead biker stared at the postmark.<\/p>\n His face lost all color.<\/p>\n One of the other bikers looked over his shoulder.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat is it?\u201d<\/p>\n The lead biker swallowed hard.<\/p>\n \u201cThis postcard was mailed\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n He looked at the little girl, then back at the others.<\/p>\n \u201c\u2026less than fifty miles from here.\u201d<\/p>\n Every biker turned toward the endless desert highway stretching beyond the gas station.<\/p>\n For the first time in eight years\u2026<\/p>\n They realized their missing brother might not be missing at all.<\/p>\n To be continued…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" The biker remained kneeling, unable to look away from the little girl. \u201cYour father had this tattoo?\u201d he asked quietly. The girl nodded. \u201cHe told me it meant family.\u201d The biker slowly looked down at the bird tattoo on his own arm. His throat tightened. Only members of one motorcycle club had ever worn that […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":7,"featured_media":8165,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-8163","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-trending-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8163","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/7"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=8163"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/8163\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/8165"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=8163"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=8163"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/storytimes.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=8163"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}