THE NEXT MORNING, the first thing Dana saw when she came out of the tent was Sam up to his knees in water at the edge of their island. He cast his line out into the water, pulled it in as the colorful feathers on the end drifted downstream, and then whipped it behind him in a graceful arc and cast it out again. Dana knew nothing about fishing, but she always thought it involved putting a worm on a hook and dangling it into the water. Maybe this was fly-fishing.
He looked like he’d been there awhile. Did the man never sleep? He didn’t come into the tent for at least an hour after she crawled into her sleeping bag, and somehow he’d slipped out this morning without waking her.
Maybe he was avoiding her. Her cheeks flushed as she thought of last night, of almost begging for his kiss. Maybe she’d been too direct, scaring him away. But no, the way he’d looked at her wasn’t the expression of a man trapped in an uncomfortable situation. He felt the attraction, too, but he hadn’t acted on it. And as she thought about it, maybe not kissing her was the kindest thing he could have done.
Because they both knew in three more days, the floatplane would carry them back to Anchorage and it would be time for her to go home. Back to Kansas, back to her mother, back to reality. And most likely, she would never see Sam again.
She pushed that thought away. She had the rest of her life to live with regrets. Today the sun shone, and the birds sang, and the river flowed around her. She should make the most of this while it lasted.
Kimmik spotted her and came running up with a stick in his mouth. She threw it into the river on the other side of the island from Sam. Kimmik launched himself into the water and grabbed the stick, then paddled back to the island, gave a mighty shake and trotted up to her, holding the stick proudly in his mouth.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Ready for breakfast?” Sam called over the sound of the river.
“I’ll make it. Powdered eggs?”
“I’m afraid so.”
She followed the technique Sam had used to light the stove, and soon had water boiling and made coffee. Sam left the river and came to sit beside her on the ice chest. She handed him a cup of coffee and poured the prescribed amount of water into the egg pouches. “No Dollies this morning?”
“Nope. There are some kings pooled up, though. I just have to convince one to take my fly.”
Aha, he was fly-fishing. She smiled to herself and tried the eggs, which were flavored with cheese and bits of bacon. “These aren’t half-bad.”
“I suspect if you had them at home, you wouldn’t think so. Everything tastes better outdoors.”
“You’re right. Being outside seems to do something to your senses. The colors are brighter. The sounds are crisper. Maybe fresh air wakes up your taste buds.”
He shook his head. “I can’t believe you’ve never been camping before.”
“If I’d known it was this much fun, I would have. More coffee?”
“Yes, please.” Sam held out his cup and she topped it up.
“So, are we spending the day here, fishing?”
“No. We need to break camp by about noon. We have one more tricky bit of white water late today, and I don’t want to leave it too late. Evening shadows make it hard to read the river.” He finished his coffee and set the cup on the ground. “So, if I’m going to make you my famous spruce-planked king salmon for dinner, I’d better get back to fishing.”
Dana puttered around the camp, cleaning up breakfast and rolling up the sleeping bags while Sam fished. Funny, even chores seemed better outdoors. She wouldn’t want to wash her dishes in the river every day, and the baby wipes she cleaned up with this morning were a poor substitute for a real shower, but for now, the novelty made everything fun.
“Dana.” Sam spoke in a low voice. She turned to see him pointing across the river and a little downstream. A furry brown animal scampered down the bank. Her first thought was to wonder how Kimmik had gotten across the river, but she quickly realized it was a bear cub. Another cub, lighter in color, appeared from behind a bush and pounced on the first one. They tumbled into the water, where they drew apart and scurried back to the bank, the darker cub chasing after the lighter one.
Dana snatched the camera and zoomed in to focus on the siblings. She’d managed to snap half a dozen photos when she saw the mother bear step out of the woods. The shaggy bear raised her head, sniffed and looked in their direction. Dana continued snapping pictures. It wasn’t long before the bear jerked her head and turned downstream, loping along the riverbank, the two cubs right behind her. She looked back once more before disappearing around the bend of the river.
Dana turned to see Sam watching her. “First grizzly?”
“First bear, period. They were so cute.”
“Cute and dangerous. Remember, where there’s a cub, there’s usually a mama bear with a chip on her shoulder. I was probably in her favorite fishing spot. Lucky she decided to move on instead of challenging me.”
“What would you have done?”
“Backed off. I don’t argue with mama grizzlies.”
Dana packed up the stove and breakfast gear. She glanced over at Sam. He stiffened suddenly, raised the tip of his rod and started reeling in the line. The rod bent in a deep arch. She hurried over to the shoreline to watch. Soon, the fish was close enough to be visible in the water. It was a monster, almost three feet long. It kept trying to move toward the faster water in the river, but Sam maneuvered the rod to keep it swimming in the shallow area.
“Could you grab that net?”
Dana found the net lying on the bank beside her. Sam stepped slowly backward, leading the fish toward her.
“Try to net it.”
“Me?”
“Could you?”
Dana knelt down and leaned over the water to scoop the net over the fish. It thrashed violently, almost pulling the net from her hands, but she managed to hold on until Sam stepped closer and took the net from her. He lifted the fish from the water, still flapping wildly in the net.
“It’s huge.” The long silvery fish had dark speckles over its body and a blush of pink along its sides. The undershot jaw opened and closed as the fish grew quieter.
Sam inspected the fish. “Probably twenty-five pounds.”
“In the water, it seemed as big as me.”
“They’re strong. You did a good job netting him.”
Sam cleaned and filleted the salmon, packed the pieces into gallon-sized plastic bags and put them in the ice chest while Dana took down the tent. After a snack lunch of jerky and trail mix, they loaded up the raft and pulled away from the island, one king salmon richer.
* * *
THEY WERE A little late breaking camp, and it was early evening before they reached the braided section of river Sam was looking for. He folded the oars into the boat and rested for a few minutes. After wrestling that king to the shore this morning and oaring all afternoon, his muscles ached. They still had one more set of rapids to get through. He was tempted to set up camp here and take the rapids in the morning, but he remembered the river well enough to know there weren’t any good camping spots on this side of the canyon. What looked like a grassy meadow was actually a marsh, and if they camped there, they would have to slog the gear all the way across it to the forest edge and sleep on knobby tree roots and rocks. He knew because he’d done it before.
There were some tricky narrows in the upcoming section. He considered pulling over and hiking up to the bluffs to scout the rapids ahead, but even with the midnight sun, he didn’t want to leave the rapids too late in the day. The shadows of the canyon would make reading the water that much harder. Besides, he’d floated this river a dozen times, with high and low water. He knew the holes, knew the dangerous areas. He could do this.
Sunlight warmed the meadow, contrasting with the shadows of the forest beyond and a velvety green mountain rising behind it. The snow-capped peaks of Denali towered over the shoulder of the lower mountain. Dana pulled out the camera to capture the scene.
She continued to take pictures as Sam rowed with the current, hurrying them downstream. He got caught up watching her frequent smiles and the way her eyes sparkled when she would look at him, which is how the rapids almost sneaked up on him. The sound of rushing water alerted him.
He oared backward, slowing their pace. “Better put that away. We’re about to come into the canyon.” He grabbed his helmet and jammed it on his head.
“Oh, good.” Dana snapped one more of him before she put the camera into the dry bag and rolled the top closed. They came around a corner and dropped over a ledge, jarring her. She tucked the bag away and pulled on her helmet as the raft rolled off a boulder. She grabbed the rope, her eyes wide, but looked at Sam with a big grin on her face.
Sam winked at her and transferred his attention to the rapids. His heart shifted into high gear, pumping the blood through his body, and he forgot his weariness as the raft picked up speed. He dipped an oar, making a minor adjustment to the angle of the boat before the next bend. He loved the adrenaline rush, caught up in the power of the river, maneuvering the boat through the rapids. This is when he felt most alive.
The next part was tricky, with a line to the left to avoid a boulder, then a sharp ferry to the right or they’d land in a hole. He skimmed the boulder and pulled hard on the oars, rotating off an outcrop on the right bank and moving downriver.
Dana stayed low in the boat, holding on to the grab line, but she studied the river and Sam’s adjustments, instinctively leaning uphill as the raft navigated the rushing waters. Her glance back at him was so believing, it made him proud.
Sam scanned the river, searching for the large hole that would be the last of the white water on this river as he worked his way to the right bank, better to bypass the reversal. They came around a bend and he saw a strainer, an ancient cottonwood, lying halfway across the river, blocking his line to the right. If they got caught up in that, they were goners. Sam dug in his oars, pulling frantically to move to the left of the hole. “Hang on, Dana.”
They almost made it, barely catching the edge of the hole. The raft dropped in with a splash and tilted upward on the left, threatening to overturn. “High side!” Sam leaned uphill. Dana threw her weight onto the uphill side also, and the raft stabilized for a moment before the front of the boat soared skyward over the wave, bucking like a bronco and bouncing everything in the raft.
Dana slid off the thwart, but quickly recovered her balance. Sam lifted the oars from the water so they didn’t catch and throw him, letting the raft ride out the wave. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red go over the edge of the raft and Dana’s look of panic. Before he could react, she grabbed at it just as they reached the crest of the wave and dropped down the other side. The jar sent her headfirst into the churning river.
Sam dropped the oars and stood, scanning the water, blood pounding in his ears. The loose oar hit something and landed a blow to his left side, sending a sharp pain shooting through his left arm and knocking him into the oarsman seat. He scrambled up again and spotted Dana, bobbing beside the raft. Thank God for the PFD. He grabbed the loop behind her head and dragged her into the boat.
The raft bobbed along in the choppy water below the rapids. Sam grabbed an oar with his right hand and used it as a rudder to guide the raft to the bank of the river, underneath a curving bluff. The boat beached on the gravel and they came to rest.
He sucked in a lungful of oxygen and ran his eyes over Dana, looking for signs of damage. Completely soaked, of course, her eyes huge, but she seemed okay.
She scrambled to her feet. “Sam, your arm.”
He looked down. His left arm dangled uselessly just below the elbow. Blood ran from a jagged tear. A dispassionate voice inside his head warned that when the adrenaline wore off, this was going to hurt. A lot.
Dana scrambled to the back of the raft and burrowed like a terrier through the equipment until she unearthed a white case with a red cross. She pulled out a thick dressing and looked at his arm, then at his face, obviously not knowing what to do.
Sam took the wad of gauze and pressed it against the bleeding gash. “Thank you. Are you okay?” He could see a few scrapes on her arms but nothing serious.
“I’m fine. I’m so sorry, Sam.” Dana checked through the contents of the kit. “What else do you need?”
“First I need to stop the bleeding.” The wound wasn’t spurting, so he hadn’t ruptured an artery. That was a plus. What happened to cause her to go overboard? They were through the worst of it by then. He looked around. “Where’s Kimmik?”
Dana stood and called him. The dog came running up the shoreline to the edge of the raft. He must have gone into the water when Dana did. He gave a mighty shake, spraying them both with river water. Not that it mattered. They could hardly be any wetter. Sam was glad to see he was safe, but he didn’t need an exuberant Labrador in his lap right now.
“Kimmik, stay.” The dog stopped and sat. “Good boy.” Sam turned to Dana. “You know first aid?”
“No.”
“Okay.” Sam needed to assess the situation, but his brain seemed to be operating in slow motion. “Um, could you help me get this helmet off?”
Dana removed his helmet and hers, tossing them into the back of the raft. Her cheeks were pink, her breathing fast but not labored. No sign she’d inhaled river water. She might have some bruising, but seemed to be moving fine.
He, on the other hand, wasn’t so fine. Judging from the ache each time he took a breath, he had a couple of cracked ribs as well as the compound fracture in his forearm. He pulled the thick dressing away from the wound, pleased to see it was starting to clot. He was going to have to rely on Dana.
She stood beside him, waiting for his next instruction. Better give her one. His safety training emphasized giving everyone in an emergency situation a job to avoid panic. Besides, he needed her help. He swallowed. “I’m going to need a splint.”
Dana picked over the contents of the raft and pulled the plank he’d been polishing from the mesh bag. “Would this work?”
“Perfect. Can you break it in two lengthwise?”
Dana propped one side of the plank on some rocks and jumped on the middle, splitting it along the grain. She climbed back into the raft where Sam still sat on the oarsman seat.
At his prompting, she cleaned the edges of the wound with an antiseptic wipe, gingerly so as not to start it bleeding again. “Now, you’ll need to line up the bones as best you can and sandwich them between the boards. Then use that stretchy bandage to wrap it.”
Dana bit her lip. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“I can almost guarantee it. But it will save me pain in the long run. Pull down and away so you can line up the bones.”
She nodded and took a deep breath. When she straightened his elbow and pulled on his wrist, flashes of fire shot up his arm and through his spine. Sam closed his eyes and ground his teeth, waiting for the pain to stop.
Once she had the splint in place and made the first couple of wraps, the shooting pain subsided into a throbbing ache. Sam opened his eyes. Dana’s hands were steady as she wrapped the bandage around the splint. Tears streamed from her eyes and ran down her face, but she ignored them and continued to wrap his arm until she reached the end of the bandage and secured it. He had to give her credit. The woman had guts.
She looked up at him and managed a tight smile. “How’s that?”
“Better. Thank you.” He nodded toward the first-aid kit. “Use one of those antiseptic wipes to clean those scrapes on your arms. You don’t want an infection.”
She nodded and tore a foil package open. “Then what?”
“Well, since I’m basically useless, I suppose you’d better make camp.” He looked at the splint on his arm. “I guess we won’t be cooking that planked king salmon tonight, after all.”