Whitewater

Jack squatted beside a crackling fire along a swollen river, while two skewered trout turned black and crispy in the flames. His boots, the muddy laces undone and the cracked tongues hanging out, stood on a nearby rock drying out. A massive, longhaired dog lapped water from the cold river and sniffed the air near a canoe. Towards the south, steep hills blanketed in thick Ponderosa pines, crumbling cliffs, and the bare branches of willowy Aspens camouflaged seven men on horseback. The dense, misty puffs of their breathing betrayed their location. Three riders broke from the group and crept towards Jack.

Jack reached into the fire, flipped the trout over, and yanked his hand out of the piercing heat. He then felt the insides of the boots before turning them, as if preparing them for some desperate man’s breakfast. The dog yanked his head up and growled. Jack snapped his head around and looked at three men on horses rushing from the tree line. Two held rifles and one a double-headed ax.

Adrenalin flooded Jack’s body as he leapt to his bare feet, pulled a razor-sharp hunting knife from his waistband, and crouched in fighting position with the fire and the dog between him and the riders.

Jack clubbed the first rider with a flaming piece of wood he snatched out of the fire as the man’s horse jumped the fire and tried to run him down. The startled man fell and stared into Jack's eyes before his head cracked hard against a rock; a wounded animal whimper popped out of his mouth. He crumpled up, vomited, and his legs twitched in a hurky-jerky way.

Jack sidestepped the next horse and slashed at the rider with the knife. The rider gasped, dropped his rifle, and yanked back on the reins. He reached down at a deep, spurting gash in his thigh just as the dog knocked him from the saddle.

Jack rushed the final rider who waved an ax above his head. He grabbed the bridle of the horse, swung up, and kicked the man in the face with the balls of his feet. The man tumbled backwards. His weapon jumped from his hand as he smacked the ground hard. Jack ducked under the rearing horse's belly, bent over the stunned man, and plunged the knife between two ribs before twisting it. A grunting gasp of air escaped the dying man’s lungs as he rolled onto his side and the sand sucked up his gurgling blood.

From the distant tree line the remaining riders fired rifles. A bullet snapped against a nearby rock and then another and another. Jack turned towards the river, plucked the skewered trout from the fire with one hand, and snagged the boots with his other hand. He sprinted towards the river, his hat bouncing off his shoulders, while the dog dashed out in front of him. Jack flung the boots and trout into the canoe and then pushed the boat into the icy water, his bare feet slipping on the slimy rocks. He hopped in, followed by the dog, and the boat lurched as the river current grabbed it. Downstream the thunder of cascading rapids filled the air.

Water splashed up into the boat as it slid into the first stretch of whitewater. The intense roar of the bubbling water swallowed up all other sounds. Jack sat at the back of the canoe with the paddle deep in the water, while the dog, whimpering and its snout pressed against the bottom of the boat, crouched up front. The river bucked and stirred up mud as it squeezed between sheer rock walls that rose perpendicular to the water's edge. The deep canyon hid the sun and the air chilled in a haze of icy mist.

The river's power hurled them at breakneck speed down a long series of large waves and vortices. Jack flailed back and forth with the paddle, trying to keep them upright. A sharp bend in the river pushed the canoe hard toward the canyon wall, which siphoned water straight into a treacherous undercut cliff. For a brief moment the canoe teetered on a huge, standing wave just inside the shadow of the cliff. The strong conflicting currents played tug-of-war with the taunt chords of muscle in Jack’s arms, shoulders, and thighs as he strained on the paddle until he forced the canoe away from the danger. A large, swirling hole appeared in the river. Its circular current swallowed up nearly a quarter of the river. He dug hard with the paddle and propelled the canoe along the lip of the hazard and then the boat went charging down a line of small rapids and out into milder water. Jack smiled as water splashed in his face and he shouted out to the dog, “We beat it.”

As soon as it had started it ended. The rocky cliffs receded, the sun warmed the air, and the water quieted. The canoe spent most of the day curling back and forth down a valley about two miles wide, with rolling hills on one side. On the other side olive-colored grasslands and occasional patches of dark green forests of pine trees covered the land. In many places Elk lounged shoulder-deep in the cold, dark-blue river to ward off the relentless swarms of biting black flies. Near the end of the day the boat floated by a small rocky beach where dozens of vultures squabbled over the rotting carcass of a dead antelope, while a determined golden fox darted between the clumsy birds to rip bloody, tough muscle from the rib bones.