Read Online In the Heart of the Canyon by Elisabeth Hyde - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Elisabeth Hyde
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dog!” He leaned into his left oar, and they bucked and slapped through messy, white-crested waves that sprayed in all directions. Up front Jill cowered and gripped the dogs bandanna, and Mark yee-hawed like a seasoned river runner, while in the rear Ruth and Lloyd winced and laughed. The waves rose higher, then higher still, and JT simply followed their lead, making those quick adjustments.
But then one of the waves collapsed on him, and he felt his boat slap against the next lateral at the wrong angle, and the boat tipped precariously—just long enough for Jill, in lurching, to lose her grip on the dog. Like a seal, the dog slid over the edge and into the waves.
JT punched on through the last hungry crests, then shipped his oars and scrambled up on his seat. The dog had quickly gotten caught in a small whirlpool; his life jacket being way too big, it swirled like an empty tent on top of the water with only the dog’s nose poking up in the middle.
“Swimmer!” JT yelled. “The dog!”
And Abo, who was having a graceful run right down the center of the rapid, deftly steered his boat toward the whirlpool, just closeenough to lean over and grab the life jacket and haul the scrawny animal up out of the water and into the back of his boat.
JT had never witnessed anything quite like it.
Abo guided his boat up alongside JT…s.
“You damn dog!” said JT, as Abo hoisted the dog over to him. “Get in here! Siddown! What’s the big idea, getting yourself sucked into a blender first thing!”
“That’s what we should call him,” said Sam. “Hey Blender! Come on, Blender!”
Dixie, whose smooth run through House Rock had gone unwitnessed, glided up beside them. “See what I mean? This dog has
got
to go.”
“Thank you,” said Mitchell. “At least someone agrees with me.”
“Hey Blender!” shouted Sam. “Come on, boy!”
“You
named
him?” Dixie exclaimed. “What are you thinking? I’m not kidding, JT. This dog is going to kill the whole trip.”
“Fine. He’ll go, as soon as I can find someone to take him. So we gave the dog a name,” he said, avoiding Dixie’s glare. “So what? It was mostly for Sam,” he added, even though Dixie had stopped listening.
With House Rock behind them, with Blender safely ensconced between Jill’s legs, the three boats drifted quietly along. They were in the heart of Marble Canyon now, already some two thousand feet below the rim. Here and there, water seeped from cavities in the rock walls, feeding lush cascades of orange monkeyflower. When they’d left camp, they’d been in deep shade, but soon a rich golden wedge of sunlight slid across the river, drenching them in its liquid heat.
Riding in the back of JT’s boat, Ruth Frankel lifted her face to the sun. She was amused by their unexpected guest; she had learned long ago that a large part of the canyon experience was dealing with the unexpected. And if the unexpected happened to take the form of a friendly lost dog—well, thought Ruth, worse things could happen.
Her face began to sting; she adjusted her hat and glanced over at Lloyd. He sat perched forward, alert, on the lookout. Already a white stubble was growing on his chin. His lips were chapped, and crustybits collected in the corners of his mouth. Thank goodness we came, she thought. How awful to have stayed home in Evanston, waiting for him to forget to breathe.
She was glad when JT decided to stop for an early lunch. She was feeling lightheaded and realized with dismay that she’d drunk less than half a liter of water that morning. As a veteran, she should know better. Quickly she guzzled as much as she could before climbing off the boat. The sand was hot and the air twined with insects. The dryness scorched her nostrils, and when she blew her nose, there was blood. As the guides set up a table and began preparing lunch, she waded into the water up to her thighs. She squatted down to pee, and the cold water clamped itself around her
But then one of the waves collapsed on him, and he felt his boat slap against the next lateral at the wrong angle, and the boat tipped precariously—just long enough for Jill, in lurching, to lose her grip on the dog. Like a seal, the dog slid over the edge and into the waves.
JT punched on through the last hungry crests, then shipped his oars and scrambled up on his seat. The dog had quickly gotten caught in a small whirlpool; his life jacket being way too big, it swirled like an empty tent on top of the water with only the dog’s nose poking up in the middle.
“Swimmer!” JT yelled. “The dog!”
And Abo, who was having a graceful run right down the center of the rapid, deftly steered his boat toward the whirlpool, just closeenough to lean over and grab the life jacket and haul the scrawny animal up out of the water and into the back of his boat.
JT had never witnessed anything quite like it.
Abo guided his boat up alongside JT…s.
“You damn dog!” said JT, as Abo hoisted the dog over to him. “Get in here! Siddown! What’s the big idea, getting yourself sucked into a blender first thing!”
“That’s what we should call him,” said Sam. “Hey Blender! Come on, Blender!”
Dixie, whose smooth run through House Rock had gone unwitnessed, glided up beside them. “See what I mean? This dog has
got
to go.”
“Thank you,” said Mitchell. “At least someone agrees with me.”
“Hey Blender!” shouted Sam. “Come on, boy!”
“You
named
him?” Dixie exclaimed. “What are you thinking? I’m not kidding, JT. This dog is going to kill the whole trip.”
“Fine. He’ll go, as soon as I can find someone to take him. So we gave the dog a name,” he said, avoiding Dixie’s glare. “So what? It was mostly for Sam,” he added, even though Dixie had stopped listening.
With House Rock behind them, with Blender safely ensconced between Jill’s legs, the three boats drifted quietly along. They were in the heart of Marble Canyon now, already some two thousand feet below the rim. Here and there, water seeped from cavities in the rock walls, feeding lush cascades of orange monkeyflower. When they’d left camp, they’d been in deep shade, but soon a rich golden wedge of sunlight slid across the river, drenching them in its liquid heat.
Riding in the back of JT’s boat, Ruth Frankel lifted her face to the sun. She was amused by their unexpected guest; she had learned long ago that a large part of the canyon experience was dealing with the unexpected. And if the unexpected happened to take the form of a friendly lost dog—well, thought Ruth, worse things could happen.
Her face began to sting; she adjusted her hat and glanced over at Lloyd. He sat perched forward, alert, on the lookout. Already a white stubble was growing on his chin. His lips were chapped, and crustybits collected in the corners of his mouth. Thank goodness we came, she thought. How awful to have stayed home in Evanston, waiting for him to forget to breathe.
She was glad when JT decided to stop for an early lunch. She was feeling lightheaded and realized with dismay that she’d drunk less than half a liter of water that morning. As a veteran, she should know better. Quickly she guzzled as much as she could before climbing off the boat. The sand was hot and the air twined with insects. The dryness scorched her nostrils, and when she blew her nose, there was blood. As the guides set up a table and began preparing lunch, she waded into the water up to her thighs. She squatted down to pee, and the cold water clamped itself around her
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