The Serpent's Bite (14 page)

“Hey, Harry,” she cried. “I got a big one on the line.”

He did not come, and she stayed with it until the fish finally managed to break the line and with the hook still embedded swam away, destined probably to live with this appendage throughout its lifetime.

Wading out of the river, she cried again for Harry and got no answer. Still calling his name, she moved inland to the flat where they had tied the horses, but Harry was nowhere in sight.

She was surprised to find Scott behind her joining in the search.

“Harry's disappeared,” she told him.

“Probably sleeping off a drunk somewhere. He'll turn up.”

“He better.”

The idea of Harry's disappearance was not lost on her. She hadn't a clue about how to get back to the camp and was certain that her brother and father were equally ignorant.

“Don't panic, little sister. He doesn't want to lose his livelihood.”

She took some comfort in his reassurance and tried to put it out of her mind.

“You should've seen what I had on my line,” she said, changing the subject. She illustrated the size of the trout. “It broke the line and got away. I needed the son of a bitch to help me bring it in.”

“I didn't even get a nibble.”

“Dad, too, didn't seem to have any action.”

The thought of their father reminded her that he was still out there, and they meandered toward the stream to observe him in action. They had moved some distance away, but he could be seen in the near distance, a dark figure standing a few yards into the stream. At first she thought that the distance and brightness of the sun had distorted her image of him. He looked smaller, and she could not detect any movement, nothing suggestive of active fly-fishing.

They moved toward him but had not gone more than a few steps when they stopped suddenly and looked at each other.

“Are you seeing what I think I'm seeing?” Courtney asked.

Scott swiveled, looking first at his father in the distance then at her.

“Could be an optical illusion,” he said, his voice a throaty whisper.

“Or the contour of the riverbed.”

“Could be.”

Sounds came to them, echoes.

“Maybe the wind,” Courtney said, unsure.

She found herself contemplating a course of action, deliberately holding back. Could this be an opportunity? she asked herself.

“We had better see,” Scott said, exchanging glances with his sister, stepping forward.

“He's fine.”

“Could be my eye's playing tricks,” Scott acknowledged. “These sunglasses aren't prescription.”

“Could be,” she said calmly, remembering Harry's warning.

“We should get closer.”

“Let's look for Harry,” Courtney said, glancing at her brother, who continued to squint in his father's direction.

“He might be in trouble,” Scott said, betraying signs of anxious uncertainty. “He did warn us. We were told to be careful.”

“Don't be such a worrywart, Scottie. He's out there fishing is all. Let's find Harry.”

She started moving in the direction of where the horses were tethered. Scott held back still squinting.

“Maybe we should go see.”

“Stop overreacting.”

She stopped moving, looking into the distance. He did seem smaller. She shot a glance at her brother who looked puzzled.

“I'm going,” Scott said. “He looks like he's sinking.”

“You think so?”

She knew she was stalling now, acknowledging the truth to herself.

“Damn it, Courtney, he's in trouble.”

He started to run toward his father. Courtney held her ground, conscious of her motive.

“I'll get a rope,” she shouted. “There's one on Harry's horse.” She started to move toward the horses again. She saw Harry moving toward them, running.

“Fuck, I warned you,” he shouted, moving fast. When he reached Courtney he passed her quickly, and she followed. He caught up to Scott who stood on the bank parallel to his sinking father.

“Hold on, Dad,” he shouted through cupped hands.

Their father had turned ashen. He was no longer holding his fly rod.

“Don't fight it,” Harry shouted. Courtney noted that he seemed panicked, sobered by the situation. “Hang on, Temple.”

Their father nodded, his expression pained. He was clearly frightened.

“We're here, Dad, you'll be fine,” Scott cried, his voice trembling.

“We're here, Dad,” Courtney echoed.

“Be right back,” Harry called. “Just don't fight it.”

Harry rushed into the tree line, quickly reemerging with a long branch. He instructed Scott and Courtney to join hands as he cautiously made his way into the stream, stopping at what appeared to be some rock foundation below, which gave him a firm footing. Then he reached out with the branch, ordering their father to grasp it with both hands. Turning toward Scott and Courtney, he cried, “Heave when I say.”

They joined hands.

“Heave,” Harry shouted.

At first Temple did not budge, but after a number of tries he began to slide forward until his body was free of the muck. They dragged him toward the edge of the stream and rushed over to assist him, Scott holding him under one armpit and Harry the other. At first, he lay supine, trying to catch his breath as the color slowly came back into his complexion.

Courtney and Scott kneeled beside him. Scott massaged one hand and Courtney the other.

“Easy, Dad,” she said. “You'll be fine.”

Scott shot her a look of reproach.

“Just relax, Dad,” Scott said. “You sure had us worried.”

Temple nodded, closing his eyes for a moment, obviously exhausted by the experience.

“Easy, Temple,” Harry said.

Slowly, their father gained his composure. Then he sat up.

“You had us really scared, Dad,” Scott said.

“Powerful stuff, that muck,” he said, shaking his head, smiling faintly.

“Take it easy, Dad,” Scott said. “Don't rush it.”

Their father nodded.

“Was I really in trouble?” he asked.

“Could be,” Harry said.

“Now you have something to brag about,” Courtney said, deliberately cheerful. “How I confronted danger and—” She stopped abruptly.

Harry finished the thought. “And nearly got my ass in a sling.”

Their father chuckled. Courtney noted that the mud on his waders had reached over his waist. If they hadn't come, would he have sunk lower? She quickly repressed the thought. She acknowledged that the near disaster triggered ideas. They were far from civilization. This was wild country. Anything could happen.

“Better get those off,” Harry said, as they loosened his waders and, with all three helping, pulled them off.

“For a moment there, I thought it was over,” he muttered as the waders were removed.

“No way,” Courtney said. “An old tough nut like you.”

“You must have hit a real softie,” Harry said. “It happens, but it's rare that it swallows you up completely.”

“Small comfort,” Courtney said, cutting Harry an angry glance. “Where the hell were you?”

She watched him hesitate, certain he was thinking up a good excuse. He appeared dead sober.

“Dropped a spare horseshoe along the trail. Went back to find it.”

It seemed implausible, but she let it pass.

“We screamed our lungs out,” Scott said in continued admonishment, exchanging a surreptitious glance with Courtney. She wondered what he was thinking.

“We're supposed to be in your care,” Courtney said.

“Sorry about that. Hearing is not as good as it used to be,” Harry said, shrugging.

“And did you find the missing shoe?” Courtney asked with unmistakable sarcasm.

“Matter of fact, yes. Horse goes lame on you if he loses a shoe. Backup.” he explained. Courtney was not inclined to believe him. Shrugging, she turned to her father, who seemed to have fully recovered.

“You had us worried, Dad,” Courtney said.

“Would have put a damper on the whole trip,” Scott said, chuckling.

Rejecting any further help, their father walked beside them back to the horses, where Harry brought out their lunch: tuna sandwiches and candy bars to be washed down with water from their canteens. Tomas had filled them using the plastic gizmo. They sat in a semicircle, leaning against boulders and viewing the tranquil valley framed by the mountains beyond.

Harry sat with them for a while then stood up.

“Pit-stop time,” he muttered, moving out to the edge of the clearing. Soon he was lost among the trees.

“Pit stop, my ass,” Courtney said.

“He was there when needed,” her father said.

“Bullshit,” Courtney cried. She had decided to take a more aggressive stance.

“He should have been watching. That's his job,” Scott said, perhaps buying into her latest pose.

“All's well that ends well,” their father said.

“We were helpless, Dad. We didn't have a clue what to do. Am I right, Scott?”

“Not a clue.”

“We were paralyzed with fear,” Courtney continued.

“Scared the shit out of both of us, Dad.”

“Can you just imagine what could have happened?” Courtney posed, determined to embellish the point. “Standing by helpless, while you—”

“Never mind, darling,” their father said. “Here I am, still kicking.”

They rested until Harry returned, bringing with him his usual scent. Obviously, he had imbibed again and got back his buzz. They mounted up with Harry helping their father onto the saddle.

“Feel okay, Temple?” he asked, as their father settled his boots into the stirrups.

“Fit as a fiddle and ready for love,” he said cheerfully.

For some reason, his remark made her uncomfortable.

Heading back, they took a different trail, this time along the river. Harry, as if nothing untoward had occurred, again stopped frequently to point out various waterfowl and birds, being once more overly specific, in an obvious attempt to get back his respect as an expert guide.

He pointed out golden-eyed ducks, Swainson's hawks, and the great blue heron among others and called their attention to ospreys and bald and golden eagles. She listened to him, her attention wandering. Despite his earlier extravagant statements, he was not the great guardian of their safety that he had pledged. She mulled the thought. Suppose Harry had not arrived at that moment?

She could not harness her speculation.

A fatal accident. Just what the doctor ordered. It was an optimistic thought, and she let it linger.

B
ack at the camp, her father crawled into his tent for a nap, obviously exhausted by his experience. Harry went into his tent. There were signs of preparation for the evening meal but Tomas was nowhere in sight.

“He could have died,” Scott said when they were alone. They had walked some distance from the camp, seeking private conversation. Scott leaned against a cottonwood. Beside them was the stream. She saw her brother's face in the diminishing light. She was familiar with his expression, frightened, unsure, vulnerable. My fragile brother, she thought.

“Dad sure was lucky,” she murmured.

“Wouldn't have bothered you, would it, Courtney?”

She mulled over the answer, knowing there was truth in it. For both of them, a different outcome would have changed everything.

“I wouldn't put it that way.”

“How would you put it?”

“It would have been an unfortunate accident,” she replied, cautious, assessing his reaction. “An act of God. Would we have benefited? Hopefully. Provided everything is as originally promised.”

“Would you really have given a damn? I mean about him.”

“As the politicians say, why deal in hypotheticals?”

Scott remained silent for a long time. She noted a slight tic in his jaw.

“You mean wishful thinking.”

His eyes evaded hers.

“It was out of our hands, Scott.”

“Was it? You were holding back. I saw it.”

“I thought he would be okay. So did you.”

“Even when I ran toward him, you stayed back. As if—”

“As if what?”

“You wanted it to happen.”

She looked at him and shook her head.

“Murder by wish. Is that it? Don't be ridiculous.”

“I was there, Courtney.”

“Look,” she explained choosing her words carefully. “Why beat around the bush? People die through accidents every day. Heirs benefit, right? We would mourn our loss, and we would probably benefit. Both of us. Are you telling me you wouldn't accept being an heir to a pile of dough and turn back the money?”

“I didn't say that,” he snapped, clearly intimidated.

“There you go again, Scottie. Don't be so fucking self-righteous. It's not like we would have caused his demise. Shit happens. Every cloud has a silver lining. It's not like we deliberately lured him to that particular spot. Harry assigned it to him, and Harry had warned us about the danger. We would be blameless, brother mine. Blameless.”