don’t have to climb,” Anna said. “We can walk up the way Easter walked up.” For the first time in what seemed like forever, but was only since the previous winter, Anna knew what had to be done and how to do it. The rescue of the cow unfolded in her mind with complete clarity. The others, even Paul, were relegated to the status of tools, valuable, useful tools like the lines-become-ropes and the lettuce in the cooler designated to be salad for their supper.
“Paul, you and Steve will come with Carmen and me. You three stay down here and rearrange the gear so there’s a level place to load Easter when we get her down.”
“I’m going with you,” Cyril said.
Momentarily nonplussed by the mutiny, Anna stopped unlashing the cooler from which she intended to commandeer green, cow-tempting foodstuffs. She blinked twice, clearing her mind’s eye of its single-minded pursuit. Fleetingly, she was aware that she was not General Petraeus and this was not the 10th Airborne Division. “Sure,” she said. “Change your shoes. Everybody, change your shoes except Lori and Chrissie, you can keep your Tevas on.”
Having liberated the lettuce and a bunch of celery, Anna dug her sneakers out of her dry-bag and swapped her river shoes for them. Carmen put the celery back in the cooler.
“Okay, right,” Anna said. “One head of lettuce should do it.”
“I take it you have a plan,” Paul said.
“Yes. It should work if Easter is as weak as she looks. The ledge isn’t all that narrow; it can’t be or she’d never have gotten that far up.”
“You’d be surprised,” Carmen said.
Anna ignored her. “We go up the way Easter did. We turn her around with the lettuce lure and hobble her if we can so she won’t bolt. She follows us and the lettuce down. Once we get her on the beach, we get her on her side and immobilize her. Carmen will tell us where best to lash her to the raft.”
“Wow. Me, the guide, the paid leader of the expedition, will actually get to make a decision,” Carmen said.
Sarcasm tinged the boatman’s words, but only very faintly. Carmen was nearly as keen as Anna to get the cow down. What her motives for this altruism were, Anna didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Yes,” Anna replied seriously, too focused for humor or working and playing well with others not of like mind. She would have shouldered the coils of rope but Paul had already picked them up. Anna took the lettuce and broke the head in two, giving half to Carmen. “This will keep her from getting it all in one bite and losing interest in us.”
Anna trotted across the beach and began scrambling up rocks to where the ledge started about ten feet above water level. “Stop!” Paul called as she found the ledge and stood.
“What?”
“Wait there.” His voice was harder than Anna had heard it before and penetrated the thickness of her determination. She waited.
When he got to the ledge, he stepped ahead of her, between her and the distant cow above. “I’m going first.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
“Don’t even try,” he said. “I grew up on a dairy farm, remember? Cows are decent beasts but they are not that bright. If she bolts toward us instead of further up the cliff, there might not be room for everybody. If the choice comes up, she’s going over, not you.”
Anna didn’t like it. Didn’t like being slowed down. Didn’t like being protected. Rebelliousness fired up in her belly and sparked in her eyes. Paul stared it down.
“Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”
A breath of air wheezed softly from behind her left shoulder where Carmen had crowded onto the ledge. A veteran guide, she’d seen enough of marital discord to feel relief when the storms were averted.
The ledge was several feet wide at the bottom and had a floor of polished stone. Sediment was deposited in the holes and cracks from high water and blown dirt, and opportunistic desert plants took root in the shallow planters. The cholla
“Paul, you and Steve will come with Carmen and me. You three stay down here and rearrange the gear so there’s a level place to load Easter when we get her down.”
“I’m going with you,” Cyril said.
Momentarily nonplussed by the mutiny, Anna stopped unlashing the cooler from which she intended to commandeer green, cow-tempting foodstuffs. She blinked twice, clearing her mind’s eye of its single-minded pursuit. Fleetingly, she was aware that she was not General Petraeus and this was not the 10th Airborne Division. “Sure,” she said. “Change your shoes. Everybody, change your shoes except Lori and Chrissie, you can keep your Tevas on.”
Having liberated the lettuce and a bunch of celery, Anna dug her sneakers out of her dry-bag and swapped her river shoes for them. Carmen put the celery back in the cooler.
“Okay, right,” Anna said. “One head of lettuce should do it.”
“I take it you have a plan,” Paul said.
“Yes. It should work if Easter is as weak as she looks. The ledge isn’t all that narrow; it can’t be or she’d never have gotten that far up.”
“You’d be surprised,” Carmen said.
Anna ignored her. “We go up the way Easter did. We turn her around with the lettuce lure and hobble her if we can so she won’t bolt. She follows us and the lettuce down. Once we get her on the beach, we get her on her side and immobilize her. Carmen will tell us where best to lash her to the raft.”
“Wow. Me, the guide, the paid leader of the expedition, will actually get to make a decision,” Carmen said.
Sarcasm tinged the boatman’s words, but only very faintly. Carmen was nearly as keen as Anna to get the cow down. What her motives for this altruism were, Anna didn’t know and didn’t care.
“Yes,” Anna replied seriously, too focused for humor or working and playing well with others not of like mind. She would have shouldered the coils of rope but Paul had already picked them up. Anna took the lettuce and broke the head in two, giving half to Carmen. “This will keep her from getting it all in one bite and losing interest in us.”
Anna trotted across the beach and began scrambling up rocks to where the ledge started about ten feet above water level. “Stop!” Paul called as she found the ledge and stood.
“What?”
“Wait there.” His voice was harder than Anna had heard it before and penetrated the thickness of her determination. She waited.
When he got to the ledge, he stepped ahead of her, between her and the distant cow above. “I’m going first.”
She opened her mouth to protest.
“Don’t even try,” he said. “I grew up on a dairy farm, remember? Cows are decent beasts but they are not that bright. If she bolts toward us instead of further up the cliff, there might not be room for everybody. If the choice comes up, she’s going over, not you.”
Anna didn’t like it. Didn’t like being slowed down. Didn’t like being protected. Rebelliousness fired up in her belly and sparked in her eyes. Paul stared it down.
“Right,” she said. “Let’s go.”
A breath of air wheezed softly from behind her left shoulder where Carmen had crowded onto the ledge. A veteran guide, she’d seen enough of marital discord to feel relief when the storms were averted.
The ledge was several feet wide at the bottom and had a floor of polished stone. Sediment was deposited in the holes and cracks from high water and blown dirt, and opportunistic desert plants took root in the shallow planters. The cholla
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