Authors: Leaving Whiskey Bend
“Thank you, Eli,” she said.
He held Hallie’s shaking hand for a moment longer before releasing his grip, mounting his horse, speaking to Hank for a moment, and then disappearing into the depths of the storm.
The sounds of the pounding rain and the roaring of the river were so overwhelming, so complete, that Eli felt as if he were deaf. As he strained to hear any sign of the missing woman, he felt covered in a blanket of sound, a cover that wouldn’t allow any competing noise.
His uncle and he had agreed that Eli would travel downstream while Hank would take Hallie with him and move upstream in hope that the traumatized woman had simply walked past her friend. Either way, Eli knew that it was a long shot. They had better odds of finding the missing cattle.
“This is hopeless,” he muttered to himself.
The thought of disappointing Hallie stung. The sight of her, distraught, was an image he could not get out of his head. He could still hear her voice imploring him to help. Absently, he rubbed his fingers together as if he could still feel the touch of her soft hand in his own.
Ahead of him, the river bent sharply to the east and disappeared from sight. The water had come up so far over the banks that many of the trees that normally lined the shore were several feet deep in the muddy soup; it was as if a cemetery had been planted along the river’s shoreline. Some trees had become weakened by the flood, so unsteady in the river’s ever-strengthening grasp that they had toppled over into the flow, their leafy branches tossed this way and that.
He was about to turn from the river, to head back from where he had come to deliver the sad news to Hallie that her friend was gone, when a long fork of lightning lit the sky like fireworks on the Fourth of July. The show of nature was so forceful that even the sound of the storm seemed to pause in awe.
“Shit fire and save matches,” Eli swore, then the words froze in his throat.
As the last tongue of lightning disappeared from the sky, Eli’s gaze locked on the image that had been revealed to him; there, draped limply over the branches of a tall tree that had fallen into the Cummings River, was a woman’s body, her long hair trailing down into the water.
F
ROM WHERE HE
stood, Eli couldn’t be certain whether the woman was alive or dead. Her body was draped over the branches facedown, but it looked as if her head might be out of the water. Both her legs and one arm were submerged in the filthy liquid, the other arm wrapped around the tree limb. She clung to the branches upon which she had been caught, her long hair floating on the relentless flow.
“What the devil?”
Indecision racked his body and mind. There was little doubt that this was Mary, the woman he had set out to find.
But now that I’ve found her, how in hell am I going to get her out of the river?
Shouting out to her would be futile; it was obvious that she was in no condition to help free herself from the leafy, waterlogged prison in which she was trapped.
His first thought was to head back upstream and find Hank. The two of them would have a much better chance of getting her out before she drowned, but any minute the river could snatch her away and send her hurtling further downstream to certain death. Also, he had no idea how badly she was hurt; the pounding that the river had given her might have resulted in broken bones or other injuries. There wasn’t time to get help. Even one minute too long might make the difference between life and death.
Dismounting, Eli moved cautiously toward the bank of the swollen river. Near the tree upon which Mary clung, other trees had met a similar fate; oaks, ash, and maples of all sizes lay broken and dying. But in their demise Eli found hope; because of the way in which they had fallen, their trunks and branches formed a sort of dam, pushing away the heaviest flow of the river. Although the current was still swift and strong, Eli estimated that there was a chance he could reach the woman.
Retrieving a long length of rope from his saddle, Eli knotted one end of it to his waist. At first, he thought of tying the other end to one of the still-upright trees but decided otherwise.
If its brothers had already fallen prey to the predatory river, what would keep any tree safe?
Instead, he secured the opposite end of rope to the pommel of his horse’s saddle. Gently, he patted the black and tan’s long face. Of one thing he
was
certain; this strong animal would do everything in its power to keep from entering the water.
“Don’t let me down, boy,” he said softly.
Tentatively, he moved to the river’s edge and cautiously put one boot into the black water. With that one step, he found himself up to his knee in the flood wash. Even though the weather was warm, the water was shockingly cold. Once he was sure of his footing, he tested the rope’s strength with a tug and began to move forward.
Although he was only a few feet from the shore, Eli still felt the tug of the strong river current at his boots. He had to move slowly, testing each and every step for fear that his feet would fly out from under him and the Cummings would attempt to carry him away.
With his every step, the dark water grew deeper and more threatening; the water rose from the middle of his thighs to his waist and then up to his chest in only a matter of seconds. To the elements, he was just another potential victim, another thing to be uprooted. Placing a hand on the wrinkled trunk of one of the fallen trees, Eli calmed his racing heart before taking another step.
“Hang on, Mary,” he whispered through chattering teeth. “I’m coming.”
Using one of the fallen trees for guidance, Eli positioned himself away from the strongest flow of the Cummings’s current. He had entered the raging river slightly upstream from where the girl was pressed against the tree trunk by the swiftly moving water. Now, at the end of one tree, with Mary’s body only about ten feet away, he could see that he would have to surrender himself to the storm-crazed water if he wished to reach her.
“Damn it all,” he cursed.
Before him, in the short expanse of water he would have to cross, the brown-black liquid rushed past. In its grasp he saw leaves, branches, even what looked to be part of a door. It would be tricky to get over that expanse of water. But he knew he had to do it.
Quickly checking the strength of the knot around his waist, Eli gave one look back to where his horse stood on the shore before pushing off the tree and plunging into the roiling river. His hat flew off his head like an eagle diving after a mouse; it seemed to be above him, beside him in the water, and then lost from sight all in the time it took to take one gasping breath. He pushed and kicked and fought to cross the chasm of water, but he still felt alone and helpless, ready to vanish from sight forever.
“Ughh.” He coughed as a mouthful of the river caught in his throat.
Suddenly yet thankfully, his arm latched on to a tree branch, and he held to it with the tenacity of a child to its mother’s breast. Drawing a quick breath, he blinked through the storm and found that he had reached his intended destination none the worse for wear. Even though it had taken only seconds to cross the heaviest flow, his muscles ached from the exertion.
To his right lay Mary. As he inched his way closer, he was struck by the fact that she was far more the doll tossed by the storm than he could ever have been. Her tiny body seemed to float on the water anchored only by the arm she had wrapped around the tree branch. He wasn’t sure if she was conscious. Her face was turned toward him and, even in the scant light of the storm, Eli could see the blood that oozed from her hairline, the rest of her skin as pale as porcelain.
In that moment, Eli found his thoughts returning again to Hallie. It would be hard to tell her that her friend had drowned. Pushing further along the tree, Eli worked his way to Mary’s side. Here, the incessant pounding of the water battered his back and shoulders. Through it all, Mary didn’t move or make a sound, her hair and clothes soaked wet and clinging to her skin like bark to a tree. Eli could see no rise and fall of breath. Softly yet firmly, he placed a hand on the woman’s shoulder and gave her a gentle shake. There was no response.
“Mary,” he called into her ear. “We’ve got to get out of here, Mary.”
Still no answer.
Gently, Eli placed his hand against the young woman’s cheek. He had hoped to feel something, the warmth of life or the faint pounding of blood still pumping through her veins, but he found only a coldness that, even in the chilling water, sent a shiver through his body. He knew that
if
she were still alive, Mary needed to get out of the water immediately.
Sliding one muscled arm around her thin waist, Eli held tight and pulled the unconscious woman steadily toward him. With her body as limp as a rag doll and her clothing soaked through with water, she was far heavier than he had imagined and he strained hard with the effort. Still clinging tenaciously to the fallen tree, Eli slowly turned her in the raging river until he grasped her beneath her arms, her chest against his, her head nestled into the crook of his neck so as to keep her face out of the water. Through it all, Mary never moved a muscle or offered a single word of protest, as helpless in Eli’s arms as she had been at the mercy of the storm.
“Now for the hard part,” he muttered into Mary’s hair.
Eli knew that it would be impossible to make it safely back across the quick moving stretch of river he had crossed to reach Mary. It had been hard enough without the added weight of an unconscious woman. Once he let go of the tree branches, they would be at the mercy of the Cummings. He would have to trust in the strength of the rope and then pray.
With a deep breath, Eli clasped both arms around Mary and pushed off into the water. As if it were a starving dog pouncing upon wounded prey, the river latched on to him and began to toss him this way and that. They traveled swiftly in the current until being yanked to a sudden halt. The rope dug into the flesh of Eli’s sides but held tight. Blood hammered furiously in his ears as he struggled to keep both their heads above water. As they bobbed and churned, he peered toward the shore and saw his faithful horse struggling to hold his ground, his hooves digging into the soft earth of the bank.
With an anchor of sorts on the shore, Eli knew that they would move like the pendulums he had seen while in the military. The force of the river would steadily buffer against them, constantly pushing their bodies closer to the shallower, ever-safer waters from which he had come. It seemed to take forever, but his patience bore fruit as the waters began to slowly calm and he was able to put one foot into the muddy riverbed and hold steady.
Slowly, carrying Mary’s limp body, Eli trudged toward the shore. Every muscle of his body ached with a ferocity the likes of which he had never known; his hardest working days driving cattle on the Morgan family ranch paled in comparison. Still, he refused to surrender. Even if she were dead, he would bring Mary back to the friend who sought to find her.
The final twenty feet were like walking a mile. Summoning the last ounces of his strength, Eli pulled Mary from the murky water and laid her down on the shore. As his horse whinnied beside him, he barely managed to undo the biting rope around his waist before crashing down into the muddy earth himself. Spent and exhausted, he lacked the energy even to check on Mary’s condition, to verify that there was indeed nothing he could do for her. Eli was able to take only a couple of ragged breaths before he heard the sound of a rifle being cocked nearby and words that made his heart beat even faster than it had while in the river.
“What the hell are you doin’ with Mary, you son of a bitch? You took her out of the wagon, didn’t you?”
Through the mud and water that danced across his eyes, Eli looked up into the face of a slightly older woman, her lined mouth pulled back in a snarl, her eyes dancing as wildly as the lightning in the sky. Her clothes, while strange and colorful, were as wet as his own. A worn rifle was held tightly in her hands, its barrel never wavering from his head.
“I asked you what you was doin’ with Mary!” she demanded again.
“Well, what in the hell does it look like? I just pulled her out of the river.” Eli’s exhaustion made him short of patience. His time in the Cummings had overwhelmed his ability to speak in a decent tone of voice.
“Bullshit!” the woman shouted as another song and dance of lightning and thunder buffered the stormy evening. “Don’t you dare lie to me! All you done is recover your prize! Spiritin’ her outta the wagon weren’t as easy as you planned, now was it?”
Try as he might, Eli couldn’t make heads or tails of what the woman was saying. He was being accused of an offense he couldn’t even begin to understand; he had risked his life to save this woman and was now being blamed for putting her in the river in the first place!
“I don’t know . . . what the hell you’re talking about!” he managed to say between ragged gasps of air that were cool against his burning lungs.
“How much is Chester payin’ you for this?” she barked, ignoring him.
“Chester?” he echoed. “Who in the hell is Chester?”
Before he could say another word, the storm was split by a thunderous blast, and the muddy earth in front of him exploded in a shower of dirt. Even with the storm still raging around him, the noise was earsplitting. He looked up to see a tendril of smoke rising from the rifle’s barrel.
“Don’t you play dumb with me!” the woman barked. The end of the weapon never wavered, never moved from its target—him! “I’d just as soon shoot you as look at you!”
Eli didn’t doubt her words for a moment. The danger he’d been in when he’d entered the raging river was nothing compared to what he faced now. The only means he had of defending himself was the rifle slung across the saddle of his horse; he was far too exhausted to make a move for it and, even if he hadn’t just survived the Cummings, he knew that she’d shoot him down like a dog before he’d managed half the distance.
“I’ve never heard of this Chester fellow,” Eli said as calmly as he could, his eyes never leaving the rifle. “I was out in this storm with my uncle, looking for our lost cattle, when we came across a woman. She was upset, searching for a friend of hers. She said her name was Hallie.”