She was taught to fear them.
Then one risked everything to save her family.

What happens when everything you’ve believed about someone turns out to be wrong?

𝑹𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑹𝒉𝒖𝒃𝒂𝒓𝒃 by Bob Richley is a moving and unforgettable adventure inspired by the real 2013 Boulder, Colorado floods. Through danger, courage, and unexpected friendship, Strawberry the mouse must decide whether fear will define her—or whether kindness and truth are stronger.

This heartfelt story reminds us that sometimes the biggest walls we face aren’t around us… they’re the ones we’ve built in our hearts.

Bob Richley lives in Colorado and writes stories that help children wrestle
with life’s toughest questions: What do we do with the prejudice we’ve been
taught? Can people really change? A father and longtime children’s ministry
volunteer with a background in psychology, Bob draws on years of working
with kids to create stories that spark meaningful conversations.

PROLOGUE

Nothing like this had happened in a hundred years—since Memorial Day 1894, to be exact. But history repeats itself, and no one ever expects it.

When it began raining on Monday, September 9, 2013, nobody in Boulder, Colorado, thought much of it. The afternoon thunderstorms were heavier than usual. Rain often comes in the afternoon, especially in the mountains. But this was Colorado; rain usually lasts just a few hours, and the storm passes. Not this time. By Tuesday evening, the downpour was relentless.

On Wednesday, September 11, something changed, and it was disastrous. The low-pressure system that had been crawling across the southwest stalled right over the Front Range, as if it had decided to park itself above the mountains and stay awhile. Moisture, more moisture than ever recorded, kept building and building. By late afternoon, rain pounded down on Boulder and the foothills.

That’s when the flash flooding began.

The rain slowed on Thursday morning, and some thought it was over. But by late afternoon, the storm roared back angrier, stronger, and seemingly unstoppable. Boulder Creek became a river of rushing water, overflowing its banks. The damage from Wednesday’s deluge was already catastrophic. Water continued to rush through streets and homes. The ground, completely saturated, could absorb no more. Boulder Creek would reach its peak flow at nine o’clock that evening: 7.78 feet of churning destruction.

Friday and Saturday brought more rain. By Sunday, the skies finally cleared.

But the damage had been done.

The numbers were devastating. Nine people had lost their lives. Over 11,000 people had been forced from their homes. Hundreds of families watched helicopters airlift their neighbors to safety in one of the largest rescue operations Colorado had ever seen. Entire towns, like Jamestown and Lyons, were cut off from the world, unreachable by road.

The flood had destroyed over 1,800 homes and buildings. It had ripped apart two hundred miles of roads and swept away fifty bridges. Highway 34 through Big Thompson Canyon simply disappeared. The total cost of the destruction was three billion dollars.

It would take more than a decade to rebuild.

Humans weren’t the only ones who suffered. In an abandoned factory, along Bear Canyon Creek, and in the alleyways of Boulder, smaller creatures fought to survive. Their struggles would change them forever.

Chapter 1

INVADERS

(June 2, 2013, 10 p.m.)

It was a cool, crisp night in Boulder, Colorado, with a refreshing pine scent in the air. The breeze carried the aroma of lodgepoles and ponderosa pines, rustling the leaves of the Douglas firs lining Mesa Drive, which wound up the hillside. Mountain chickadees, house finches, and black-billed magpies chirped and buzzed, filling the night with their natural symphony. Clear skies revealed stars twinkling over the Flatirons, and life felt peaceful.

In an abandoned factory near Mesa Drive, Strawberry, a young mouse, lived with her family and a few other mice, who had turned old offices into cozy homes. Over the years, mice from the factory had made regular scavenging trips to the Goodwill Dumpster on 28th Street and nearby neighborhood trash bins, gathering toys. Scraps of fabric and bits of paper found in the factory were used to fill mattresses for doll beds. Other toy furniture was used for chairs and couches. During the day, the quiet hallways echoed with the sounds of mice going about their daily routines. They felt protected here, hidden away from the dangers of predators and humans—or giants, as they were commonly known. As Strawberry drifted off to sleep, the breeze whispered through broken windows, and crickets chirped their peaceful melodies.

Strawberry was a tough, young, girl mouse. Her fur was white like her daddy, Rhubarb’s, except for a few splashes of red with black dots, which was why she was named Strawberry. She was skinny like her grandfather.

That day had been full of fun and surprises for Strawberry. Mice from all over the neighborhood had come to celebrate her birthday. They brought her lots of gifts and filled the air with squeals of laughter and excitement. The best gift had come from her dad, Rhubarb. It was a toy sword. Strawberry’s eyes sparkled as she looked at the shiny sword, imagining herself as a brave mouse, like Reepicheep, her favorite mouse from The Chronicles of Narnia. With her new gift, she was excited to embark on adventures and protect her mouse friends.

Her dad smiled and raised a stick in his paw. “On guard!” he said. Strawberry struck the stick with her new sword. Stick and sword clashed. Strawberry giggled. With a sneer in her eye, she raised the sword high and struck the stick with all her might. Rhubarb released his grip, and his stick fell. “You win! Don’t hurt me,” he said, smiling, and then embraced his daughter.

“Thank you, Dad. This is the best gift.”

Strawberry’s younger siblings, Blueberry and Raspberry, ran up to join the fun. “Can we play too?” Blueberry asked, his whiskers twitching with excitement.

“Me too! Me too!” squeaked little Raspberry, always eager to follow her older sister.

“Of course!” Strawberry laughed. “On guard!”

Blueberry and Raspberry each grabbed a stick and started swinging. Strawberry was careful with the sword around her younger siblings. She loved them dearly, even when they hit her paw with sticks.

After the sword fight, they all played “pin the tail on the rat.” Strawberry’s mom, Sherry, tied blindfolds over each player’s eyes, spun them around three times, and directed them toward the rat poster on the wall. Blueberry kept peeking under his blindfold, earning playful scolding from their mother. Raspberry got so dizzy from spinning that she pinned the tail on the wall three feet away from the poster, causing everyone to giggle.

Rhubarb smiled as they poked their pins in various parts of the rat’s body. Of course, the birthday girl won. She felt for the edge of the poster, found the corner, and moved her hand slightly upward and diagonally, where she pinned the tail closest to the rat’s rump.

After the party, Rhubarb grabbed another beer from his hidden stash before taking his daughter for a short walk along the trail near their home. Strawberry noticed he stumbled slightly but said nothing. The air was filled with a delicate, sweet fragrance from the Rocky Mountain columbine, which reminded Strawberry of the honey treat they had enjoyed earlier. They passed some blanket flowers, resembling sunflowers with their yellow petals and red centers. These native blooms released a subtle, earthy aroma that blended with the warm summer air.

As they walked, Rhubarb paused on the trail to look at Strawberry with a warm, tender smile—the kind she wished she saw more often. She noticed they were standing in a patch of flowers and her fur’s red splotches matched the flowers’ centers. Rhubarb smiled, proud of her beauty.

“You are no longer a pup,” he said, “but not quite an adult. You are in between, and it scares me.” His whiskers twitched nervously.

“Scared, Dad? You? Aren’t you the one who fought off a prairie lizard to save me last summer?” She grinned.

“Yes,” he said with a chuckle, “but this is different. You are my first ‘in-between.’” He paused; his expression darkened. “You need to be careful about who you associate with. Not everyone is like us mice. Rats, especially, are dangerous, disgusting creatures. Never trust them.”

Strawberry’s smile faded. There he goes again, she thought. Just when things were going so well, his ugly, mean side had come out. She ignored the thought and shook her head. No, today is a happy day. I’m not letting this bother me.

Rhubarb noticed her changed expression and smiled. “You are becoming very beautiful and mature, but you have lots to learn. I know you’ll have many challenges, but you’ll face them well. I hope you turn out to be like your mother, strong but sweet.”

Strawberry smiled at the compliment. Her dad did have a sweet side, sometimes.

As the sun began to set, Strawberry couldn’t help but feel grateful for such a joyful, wonderful day. She snuggled into her cozy little bed, her tiny nose twitching as she drifted to sleep. In her room, a firefly lantern cast flickering shadows on the wall. She dreamed of flying to Mars in her rocket ship, becoming the first mouse to land on the red planet. In her dream, Strawberry sailed through the vastness of outer space, her paws gripping the spaceship’s controls with excitement and determination. The crimson landscape of Mars beckoned her to explore its mysteries and wonders. She could see the magnificent mountains and deep canyons below as she approached the planet’s surface. Strawberry’s heart raced with anticipation as she prepared for her historic landing on the alien world.

Her dreams were abruptly interrupted by a bang. Strawberry woke up suddenly, with her heart racing. She felt anxious as she glanced around her small room. Her keen ears caught faint, unfamiliar noises downstairs. Fear gripped her as she carefully got out of bed and quietly tiptoed toward the bedroom door. Her whiskers quivered with alertness. Her mind raced. Intruders? In our home? Strawberry’s tiny paws moved quickly but quietly as she crept toward the source of the noise. She treaded carefully downstairs. Now, she could hear hushed whispers, rough and raspy—rats.

“I knew I smelled some. My nose never fails,” boasted one rat.

“Shh, let’s grab it and go. I think I heard something,” said another rat.