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wanting to take care of her still grated on Mandy’s nerves, she wasn’t going to let Cynthia sidetrack her from what really mattered. “Trouble is, Rob’s not thinking about how much this hurts Uncle Bill, what with the complaint and lawsuit from King’s widow to deal with.”
    Cynthia’s brow wrinkled. “You know, her suing him doesn’t make sense to me.”
    “Why?”
    “Last I heard, Paula and Tom King were estranged. She shouldn’t be all that upset and wounded over his death. In fact, she might even think he got what he deserved. He’s been having an affair with Evie Olson.”
    Mandy remembered the passenger list for the rafting trip King was on. “Daughter of Hank Olson, the city councilman?”
    “One and the same. You’ve seen her around town. It’s hard to miss the gauzy skirts, clanking bracelets, and all that long crinkly brown hair.”
    Mandy nodded. “Yeah, a throwback to the flower children of the sixties. She’s too young for that stuff, must be in her thirties, right?”
    With a smirk, Cynthia said, “She’s well-preserved. Celebrated her thirty-ninth birthday more than once at the bar. That reminds me of another blonde joke. What do blondes and cow pies have in common?”
    Mandy gave a theatrical shrug.
    “The older they get, the easier they are to pick up.”
    “Okay, enough with the jokes.” Mandy flashed a smile at Cynthia, though, to show she wasn’t really bothered. “Back to Evie. Both she and her father came on that rafting trip.”
    Cynthia raised an eyebrow. “That couldn’t have been too comfortable for Paula King. I’m surprised she put up with having her husband’s lover along, even if he wasn’t living with her anymore.”
    “Tom King had moved out?”
    “About a month ago. Right after Paula found out about Evie. One of their neighbors told me the scene was straight out of the movies. Paula’s tossing his clothes out the second-story window, and he’s running around picking them up and yelling at her to stop being an idiot.”
    “Like that’s going to work.” The memory of how mad she had been at Rob for calling her the same thing ate at Mandy’s nerves.
    “Yeah, next came his bowling ball, right through a window that she hadn’t opened yet.” Cynthia arced her hand through the air. “Glass flew everywhere. He was ducking and running for cover. When he yelled that she could have killed him, she hollered, ‘You’re a dead man’.”

When Kansas and Colorado have a quarrel over the water
in the Arkansas River, they don’t call out the National Guard
in each state and go to war over it. They bring a suit
in the Supreme Court of the United States and
abide by the decision. There isn’t a reason in the world
why we cannot do that internationally.”
    —Speech, kansas city (april, 1945), harry s truman
    Mandy was still mulling over the disconnect between the scene Cynthia described and Paula King’s lawsuit when she went out on the river the next day with Steve Hadley. In contrast to her gloomy mood, the weather was clear and sunny, with only a few puff-ball clouds in the brilliant blue sky. She lathered the sunscreen on thick, even though no matter what she used, or how often, by the end of the season she ended up as brown as a chestnut mare.
    They launched their catarafts at the Buena Vista town ramp and intended to take out at AHRA headquarters in Salida, about thirty miles downriver. By ten o’clock, they were tied up a few yards upstream of the Fisherman’s Bridge put-in for the Brown’s Canyon run and bobbing in the undulating water. The spot was the busiest on the river, especially on weekend days. This Sunday was no exception.
    River Runners, one of the largest outfitters on the river, was launching four pods of four rafts each from their land on the west bank. The lead guide shouted out names from his clipboard, divvying up the tourists among the rafts.
    At the public boat access site on the east side, other outfitters and private boaters