Part 13 (1/2)
Marilyn loved the smells and sights of the river after rain. Even the fish jumping at insects seemed overjoyed at the fresh water in their natural tank.
The gra.s.s and trees along the riverbank glistened with moisture, birds gathered food as they sang to one another, and now and then a frisky squirrel chattered from the canyon walls that rose twenty to fifty feet above them.
The river meandered more swiftly after the rain, as if trying to wash itself clean over the stones along the bank and beneath, and white caps of water broke against the few rocks that jutted from the water.
”The water... she's mighty cold,” Jackson spoke from behind her.
They'd traveled approximately four or five miles, mostly in silence. She'd been enthralled with the scenery and the water, more relaxed than she could remember being in years. The sound of his voice startled her.
Marilyn trailed her fingers in the water and nodded, too enchanted with nature to speak for a moment. She felt deliciously at ease. Her life had been anything but peaceful in so long that she wanted to inhale every scent and to feel every sound of the river resonate throughout her body.
She turned and called over her shoulder, ”I still wish I'd taken my own canoe. Almost took off without you this morning when I was afraid you wouldn't take me on a float trip because of the rain.”
”You gonna hold that against me all afternoon?” he asked.
”Mebbe,” she said, mocking him, only to have Jack lift an oar out of the water and shake her with droplets of water from it.
She caught him eyeing the muscles of her shoulders and back as she protested the water. She knew she was nicely developed. Not sculpted, but definitely well-toned. She'
d taken off her blouse once they were on the river in order to get a tan.
”How long you been at this desk job?” he asked.
”About two months now.”
When he was silent a moment, she turned to look at him again.
”Let's have it,” she said. ”What's on your mind?”
Jack said, ”Okay. It's this. What if I don't do well in this contest? How's that going to affect your dad?”
”As long as you show up, he'll be fine.”
”And if I don't?”
Marilyn thought about telling him of the compet.i.tion her father had been embroiled in with Dave prior to this week but thought better of it. Jack had enough on his mind without trying to adjust a rivalry gone awry between two old men who bet against their own authors.
Jack licked his lips and looked at the suddenly darkening sky. Looked as if their float trip might be a washout, though, and they were seven miles from the camp.
”Tell me that the sun has just gone behind the clouds a bit,” she said. ”Tell me those aren't storm clouds gathering.”
”A bit. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea.”
”Not afraid of a little water, are you, Jackson?”
He chuckled. ”Okay, city girl. You're about to get a taste of life on the riverbank... mebbe we'll turn you into a river rat before you go back home.”
”Do you think I'd make a good one?” she asked, attempting to joke with him.
Her voice caught in her throat at the look in his eyes. Was he thinking what she was? That he didn't want her to go back home any more than she did? d.a.m.n. What was up with that?
A whistle from the riverbank alerted them that they were not alone.
”Hey!” the bronzed man squatting on the bank called, lifting his head slightly in salute. ”You're goin' the wrong way.”
Marilyn watched as a wide grin creased Jack's face. He pulled at the oars and brought them closer to the long-haired Native American man fis.h.i.+ng from his seat on the gra.s.s.
”And what direction should I be going?” Jack asked as the fisherman rose, leaned down and grasped the front of the canoe, holding it against the current with one hand while holding his fis.h.i.+ng pole in the other.
”Been so long since I've seen you that I figured you must be lost.” The man's voice held no sarcasm, only a matterof-fact tone.
Marilyn marveled at the muscles rippling in his forearm. If Jack hadn't been with her she'd have been terrified.
”When are you gonna cut off that braid?” Jack asked, stone-faced. ”You look like a d.a.m.n Indian.”
”I am a d.a.m.n Indian,” the big man snorted as he delivered the retort. ”More'n you.”
Then both men melted into smiles and laughter as Jack introduced Marilyn to his cousin, Daniel Red Feather.
”My mother's nephew,” Jack explained. ”Her sister's sorry excuse for a son.”
”You gonna just sit there and drown, or are you gonna come up to the house?”
Daniel asked.
”How long?” Jack asked, winking at Marilyn.
Daniel peered at the sky a moment then said, ”Five minutes. Maybe less.”
”Then let's get out of here,” Jack said, setting the oars inside the canoe.
Marilyn wondered how they were going to manage, but the cousins seemed to have a wordless understanding of one another. Jack took the fis.h.i.+ng pole as Daniel helped her out with one hand while steadying the canoe with his other, and soon they were all three on the bank.
While she waited, Jack dragged the canoe to safety beneath a tree and flipped it over to keep the wind from lifting it. Daniel trudged ahead of them with his fis.h.i.+ng gear.
”Big man,” she mused as Jack took her arm and guided her up the steep slope leading to Daniel's cabin.
”Big, bold and brilliant,” Jack agreed. ”My favorite cousin. Even though Daniel's got a heart of gold, he scares the h.e.l.l out of most people. Needless to say, n.o.body messed with us when we were kids if Daniel was around.”
Marilyn shuddered. ”He scares the h.e.l.l out of me!”
Jack laughed and gave her a quick hug. ”You're safe, trust me.”
A black Lab bounded toward them, wagging his tail until Jack reached out to pet him.
”h.e.l.lo, Max,” Jack said.
Big man with a long braid that reached his waist, black Labrador, shadows falling across the landscape as thunder rolled as if on cue five minutes after they'd arrived. Marilyn was glad she hadn't attempted to float the river on her own after all.