In The Heart Of The Canyon Part 5

"I was just about to get to that," said JT, and he kneeled on the sand and spread out his map. "If we do North Canyon, you'll see some pretty good geology."

Mitch.e.l.l pointed out that North Canyon was not a very long hike. "How about Silver Grotto?"

"What's Silver Grotto?" asked Jill.

Mitch.e.l.l closed his eyes in reverence and shook his head. "Unbelievably beautiful," he told Jill. But he didn't elaborate, which made it seem to Jill that he was casting judgment on her, for not knowing.

"Let's see how the day goes," JT said evenly. He had a name for people like Mitch.e.l.l; they were known among the guides as copilots. Copilots had done their homework before coming down the river, had studied up on canyon history and geology, had pored over maps and guidebooks and knew where all the best hikes were, knew which waterfalls you could climb behind, which ones you could jump off. JT's method of dealing with copilots was to be as nice to them as possible but to let their chatter go in one ear and out the other.

Now he told Mitch.e.l.l, "I don't know if we'll make it that far. Remember what I said yesterday. Gotta be flexible, gotta play it by ear. Right now we're just going to focus on breaking camp. Take your tents down, get your gear packed, put on your sunscreen, whatever."

"I have a question," said Jill.

"Yes, ma'am?"

She placed her hands on her hips. "Do you guides ever ever get a chance to just enjoy the trip?" get a chance to just enjoy the trip?"

There were appreciative nods and murmurs all around.

"Because you work so hard!" Jill exclaimed.

JT didn't like compliments, and he didn't like being in the spotlight. "Abo and Dixie did most of the work this morning," he told them. "I sat and yakked on the phone. Go on. Pack up your things. Let's run this river."

Jill had Mark apply sunscreen to her back.

"Bet these river guides get a lot of skin cancer," he said. He had a slappy, unpleasant way of doing it, and she struggled to keep her balance.

"One of the hazards of the occupation, I guess," she murmured.

"And I bet they don't have very good health plans, either," Mark went on. "If any."

"Sam," called Jill. "Leave the dog's tail alone!" She smelled insect repellent and looked up to see Mitch.e.l.l spraying his arms with Off. According to JT, there weren't mosquitoes down here. What was the man doing?

Mitch.e.l.l finished spraying his hat, then joined Jill and Mark. "Of all the things!" he said with a chuckle.

Jill politely asked him what he meant.

"A dog! First day out! If you wrote a story about it, n.o.body would believe it. I hate to sound inhumane," he confided, "but am I the only one who wouldn't find it totally cruel and unusual to just leave the dog here?"

Jill was taken aback by this.

"I mean, the dog must have some pretty good survival skills," he went on. "We could just leave a bunch of food. Somebody else will be camping here tonight. They'll feed it, just like we did. Why should we complicate our trip?"

Jill wondered if she really wanted to tell Mitch.e.l.l, on the second day of the trip, that yes indeed, he did sound inhumane. All things considered, she preferred harmony to confrontation.

"Are you just concerned about Lena's allergies? Because we're outside," she pointed out. "There's lots of fresh air here, not like a closed-up room. I can make sure the boys stay away from Lena," she added.

"You don't have to do that," Mitch.e.l.l said, although it was clear from his tone that he did in fact see that as a possibility. "It's just that after forking out six thousand bucks, I don't want to have to leave the river on the second day."

I forked out twelve thousand, Jill thought, and it wasn't to spend two weeks with someone like you.

Just then JT hollered for everyone to choose a boat. The dog would ride in his boat this morning, he told them. Dixie's boat would be dog-free, for those who wanted. Slowly everyone made their way toward the boats, with the exception of Mark, who hung back.

"Did you bring anything?" he whispered to Jill.

"Like what?"

"Like, you know, bran or prunes or something."

"No, Mark," said Jill. "If you wanted me to bring bran or prunes, you should have told me."

"I was just asking," said Mark.

11.

Day Two.

Miles 1620.

High on JT's list of "Top Ten Ways to Make Friends" was to camp directly above a rapid, so as to start the next day with a good wake-up splash. In keeping with this, no sooner had the three boats pulled off sh.o.r.e that morning than they all found themselves gliding into the tongue of House Rock Rapid, where the current ran green and silky-smooth over submerged boulders before exploding in a ma.s.s of white foam below.

"Good morning campers!" campers!" JT shouted as the first icy wave drenched them. "Hold on to that 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. JT shouted as the first icy wave drenched them. "Hold on to that 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 s.h.i.+pped 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 close enough 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 d.a.m.n 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 got to go." to go."

"Thank you," said Mitch.e.l.l. "At least someone agrees with me."

"Hey Blender!" shouted Sam. "Come on, boy!"

"You named named him?" Dixie exclaimed. "What are you thinking? I'm not kidding, JT. This dog is going to kill the whole trip." 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 crusty bits 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 hips.

"Don't go too deep, Ruthie," Lloyd called.

Ruth smiled. He hadn't called her Ruthie in years.

Meanwhile, the dog was getting in the way of lunch preparations, sniffing for dropped morsels of food. And he must have picked up the scent of a previous meal, because suddenly he began to dig in earnest, spraying great sandy arcs in all directions, including the prep table with the large open bowl of chicken salad.

"Stop him!" cried Dixie. "Oh, you bad, bad dog!"

Abo lunged and caught the dog by the bandanna.

"Oh, there's sand everywhere!" Dixie wailed.

"You dumb-a.s.s dog," said Abo.

JT spat out a mouthful of sand.

"I hope there's a backup lunch," said Mitch.e.l.l, peering into the bowl.

"What's going on?" Lloyd asked Ruth.

"Nothing," she said with a sigh. "The dog just got a little excited."

"What dog?" asked Lloyd. "Dogs aren't allowed down here."

"Go tie the dog up," said JT, wiping his mouth. "Dammit all."

The whole group looked on as Abo looped a length of rope through the dog's bandanna and dragged him down to JT's boat and tied him to the bow line. The dog struggled against the rope, whined a few times, then lay down on the wet sand and settled his head dejectedly between his paws.

Glumly the three guides tried to sc.r.a.pe the sand off the chicken salad. The guests looked on and tried to be cheerful. Sam went over and knelt beside the dog.

"Leave the dog alone, Sam," Mark called. "He's being punished." Sam looked up, grief-stricken.

"Call the ranger again," said Dixie.

"Not now," said JT.

"Why not?"

"Because I'm the Trip Leader, and I'll decide when I call the ranger, and right now I want to eat my lunch," and without waiting for the guests to go first, as was the custom, JT slapped a heavy scoop of chicken salad onto a piece of bread and walked off to sit by himself.

Ruth, who as a wife and mother had served many a meal that didn't turn out as expected, knew enough to make the best of things. A little sand wouldn't hurt anyone. She motioned for Lloyd, and they approached the table and made their sandwiches. Out of the corner of her eye she could see JT sitting down on the beach all by his lonesome, and she wanted to go give him a hug. She didn't, of course; it would only embarra.s.s him. Instead, she gave him an encouraging little wave, and he grimly nodded back.

Then she and Lloyd headed to the river's edge, where a flat rock jutted out into the water. Across the river, a great blue heron perched on a wedge of sand.

Lloyd climbed up and settled himself. Ruth handed him her sandwich. She felt around for her footing-so hard to keep her balance these days, especially on rocks and sand!-and placed her hands upon the rock and was getting ready to swing one leg forward when suddenly a flash of red caught her attention. She looked up. A Frisbee sailed over her head. Lloyd looked up too, and then she heard Sam give a shout, and Ruth turned, but by the time she saw the dog careening in her direction, it was too late.

The next thing she knew, she lay sprawled on the wet sand with the wind knocked out of her, water lapping at her legs.

"Ruthie?" said Lloyd, peering down.

Ruth didn't know whether to laugh or cry-that is, until she tasted salt and blood and realized she'd fallen against the rock and bitten her lip; her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and she spat into the water and tried to stand up. The world spun, and then someone's arms were around her and they were dragging her, helping her lie down where the sand was dry. Her tongue hurt; she realized she'd chipped a tooth and its ragged point was cutting into her. She felt herself drooling, and wiped her mouth.

Then she heard JT's low, quiet voice gently telling her to drink; he supported her head and held a water bottle to her mouth, and she sipped and spat and sipped and spat. Dixie appeared by her side, opening up the first aid kit, and she felt someone straighten her right leg out on the sand. She hoisted herself up on her elbows, and it was at that point that she saw the three-inch-long gash down her s.h.i.+n.

"Lloyd?" she said, panicking.

"Right here, Ruthie," and she saw Lloyd's darkened face in a halo of bright sun.

"Let's get her to lie back down," JT was saying, and Lloyd supported her shoulders as she lay back on the sand. She could feel water being poured on her leg. Was it hot or cold? She couldn't tell.

"What happened?" asked Dixie.

"One minute I was handing Lloyd my sandwich," Ruth said. "The next minute I was on my back!"

"Your mouth is bleeding," Lloyd said. "Get my suture kit," he told Dixie.

"Maybe let's take care of the leg first," said Dixie.

Lloyd straightened up. "Don't talk to me that way, missy!"

"We'll get your suture kit, Lloyd," said JT. "Abo, get his suture kit." Abo nodded gravely and s.h.i.+fted positions.

"It'll be all right, Ruthie," Lloyd a.s.sured her.

All her life Ruth had punished herself when anyone in the family got hurt. Always she could trace it to some act of carelessness on her part. It was no different now. She should have been watching for the dog. And it was only the second day of the trip!

"I should have been watching out," she said ruefully.

"How'd the dog get loose, anyway?" asked Dixie.

"Where'd this dog come from; that's the important question right now!" Lloyd exclaimed. "What's a dog doing down in the Grand Canyon?"

People exchanged glances.

"JT found the dog last night," Ruth told him, patting his hand. "Remember? In the bushes?"