“Can we say yes, Pete?” Vera asked. “I really don’t know how to canoe.”
Perry’s dad crossed his arms. “Did you see anyone besides us around the cabin?”
The man narrowed his eyes. “No. Why?”
“Just wondering.” Perry wondered why his dad didn’t mention their flat tires and the broken radio. But his dad changed the subject. “Where are you camping?”
“South of here. I’m fly fishing the Yellowjacket.” The man pointed toward the creek behind the cabin. “Fewer people.”
Perry’s dad nodded.
The man grinned. “And where are my manners? Been back up in the wilderness too long, I guess. My name’s Booger. Booger Stanton.”
Perry’s mom mouthed Booger? Then she shook her head.
But Uncle Pete stuck out his hand and shook Booger’s. “I’m Pete Flint. This is my wife Vera. All the kids are mine except for the teenage boy. This is my brother Patrick, his wife Susanne, and my mother, Lana.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Flints.”
Patrick grumbled something under his breath, but then he sighed and shook Booger’s hand, too. “A ride in exchange for a guide. All right then. Let’s hit the river.”
Perry groaned. Booger was coming with him and Aunt Vera. He and Aunt Vera got in the canoe and Booger waded it into the river. Just as they were all pushing off, Perry looked upriver. Another canoe was paddling toward them, but it was still too far away to see who was in it.
“Um, Dad . . .” Perry pointed.
“Is it Joe and the girls?” Lana said, tenting a hand over her eyes.
Perry’s dad squinted into the distance. “I don’t think so.”
As they were watching, the canoe beached on the far side of the river. Whoever was in it dragged it off the water and into the trees. Maybe they’re going fishing. It even could be the Hilliards. They were nice.
“Friends of yours?” Booger asked as he hauled himself into the canoe.
Patrick dipped his paddle in the water. “Maybe. Maybe not.”
Booger snorted. “I sure hope they are. Guiding is in trade for a ride. Fighting’s extra.”
Perry saw his dad pat his hip, checking his weapons. He’d been doing it a lot. And Perry knew what it meant—his dad didn’t think it was Trish and Bunny with Grandpa Joe in that canoe.
Chapter Twenty-five: Shoot
The Tukudika River, Teton National Forest, Wyoming
Friday, June 24, 1977, 2:45 p.m.
Susanne
Susanne rested the paddle over her knees and rolled her shoulders. Gentle waves lapped at the sides of the canoe, and it rocked through the water as it slowed. “Want to paddle for a little while, Brian?” Her arms were already protesting, even though the river had been smooth and swift since they’d left the guard station. She snuck a glance at Vera’s canoe. The strange man, Booger, was expertly piloting the canoe and he must have been cracking jokes, too, because Vera was laughing. Perry was staring into the distance and didn’t appear to be listening to him. She turned her attention back to Brian.
The smile he flashed her spread ear to ear and dimpled one of his cheeks. Such a cute kid. “Sure!”
She handed the paddle up to him in the middle seat. “Do you know how to do it?”
He dug into the water immediately. “Yes, ma’am. Pete taught me.”
It caught her off guard that Brian called his stepfather Pete, but she supposed it made sense. To Brian, the name “Dad” was already taken by his birth father. “All right. Let me know if you have questions.”
Lana held up two handfuls of sandwiches. Patrick angled his canoe toward Susanne’s.
When he had it alongside them, Lana handed them over to Susanne. “PB&Js. Do you have water?”
Susanne held out two sandwiches to Brian. He stopped paddling, took one, and passed the other to Annie, who had switched into Susanne’s canoe.
Susanne said, “We have a full canteen. Thanks, Lana.”
“Of course. More to make and deliver.” She winked. “I need a name for my new business.”
“Any of those sandwiches left?” Booger shouted. “We’re starving over here.” Booger had paddled the canoe carrying Vera and Perry into the lead. It felt wrong not to have Patrick in front. Rattled Susanne for some reason.
“Just a minute,” Lana called.
“You should call it Flint’s Fast Food,” Brian said. “And deliver it to my mom’s canoe fast.”
They all laughed.
“But are you getting paid?” Susanne asked.
“Time with my family is all the payment I need.” Lana waved goodbye.
Patrick smiled at Susanne as he pointed his canoe toward Vera’s. Lana was already making more sandwiches in her lap.
Susanne didn’t like that they were sharing their food with Booger. The deal had been “guide for a ride,” not a ride and meals. They were low on supplies after lunch for the whole family had ended up in Trout Creek and one backpack had stayed behind with Joe.
“Ready for me to take that paddle back so you can eat?” Susanne called up to Brian.
“Ladies eat first,” he answered.
Annie took a bite of her sandwich. “He called me a lady,” she said through a full mouth.
“You’re a smooth talker, Brian.” Susanne dug into her own sandwich.
She tried to relax and take in the view as she ate. If everything hadn’t gone so wrong, she would have enjoyed it. The mountains rising on either side of the undulating dark ribbon of water were breathtaking. Purple lupine and golden balsam root created a haze of color on a meadow. In the far distance, Grand Teton peak and its brethren were carving a black hole in the startling blue sky. And all around them, green. The color of life and renewal. Yet their family was fleeing down the river under threat of life or death, for Perry with his condition, with the girls lost, and with the prospectors that Pete and Patrick thought were after them. She swallowed another bite of sandwich. It stuck in her throat like a hunk of wood. She’d lost her appetite.
“I’ll trade you half my sandwich for that paddle, Brian,” she said.
“Really?” Brian’s voice was enthusiastic. He immediately sent the paddle back toward Susanne. She handed the sandwich forward.
He took it from her and consumed it like a hyena on a gazelle carcass.
Susanne barely noticed. She was hungry for the paddle, remembering her youth and the soothing power of repetitive motion. It had been hypnotic then. Soon, she was on autopilot. Unfortunately, with her mind freed thanks to the task of paddling, her problems seized it until her insides were floating on a current of anxiety far rougher than the river.
She wished she was in the canoe with Patrick. She wanted to tell him how uncomfortable she was with Booger. Why had Patrick let him join their group? Booger had appeared out of nowhere in the wilderness. His timing was odd. The things he had said were disturbing. His appearance and odor were off-putting. If they’d been driving down the interstate and he’d had his thumb out on the side of the road, they wouldn’t have stopped to pick him up. Patrick was vehemently against giving rides to hitchhikers. It was one of the things he’d preached about endlessly when he’d taught her and the kids self-defense. He’d even cut articles out of the newspaper about a hitchhiker who murdered a motorist in Colorado the year before. Not to mention that Patrick was supremely confident in his own abilities. To a fault. That trait combined with his experience with strangers in the wilderness the year before, when he’d run into Kemecke, ought to have made him even more leery of Booger.
So why was Booger in the canoe with Vera now?
Then the answer hit her, and she felt dense that she hadn’t realized it earlier. Pete. Pete is why.
Patrick wasn’t a different person, per se, around his brother. But he wasn’t the same, either. For one thing, he acted and seemed younger. Like he’d regressed back to his teens, the age he was the last time he and Pete had lived under the same roof. For another, he went out of his way to build Pete u
p. It went beyond respecting his brother and his feelings. So much further that she’d asked Patrick about it once.
He’d been uncomfortable talking about it at first. But he’d finally told her that, as boys, he’d gotten a lot of positive attention for his type A personality. He was an achiever. An overachiever, and book smart, too. Pete was—is—an artist who moves to his own beat. Smart like Patrick, but interested in different things. And schools reward the Patricks of the world.
It had made sense to her. She could even relate. Not for herself, but with her kids. Trish took after Patrick. Perry was more like her. More like Pete. While it was athletics instead of art that drove Perry, he didn’t care about grades and academic achievement as much as his sister did, and the teachers noticed. He entered their classes under the weight of their high expectations because of his conscientious sister. Except he wasn’t her. He was one hundred percent himself. The only time their differences bothered Perry, really, was when the kids brought home report cards, and Trish had all As and glowing remarks, and Perry didn’t. Except from the coaches, who talked about his heart, his courage, and his effort. It had gotten to the point where Susanne had asked Trish to downplay report card day. Not because they weren’t proud of her. They were very, very proud of her. But to make it sting less for Perry.
Lana, according to Patrick, had the same talk with him as a boy that Susanne had with Trish. And Pete was his best friend. So it was never a problem for Patrick like it was for Trish, who seemed to resent it and remember fondly the days when every grade and first prize was a celebration instead of a secret. Patrick might not completely understand his brother, and he might occasionally get frustrated with him, but he was his biggest fan, most steady supporter, and most loyal champion.
If Pete said they were picking up the river hitcher, then of course Patrick would bow to his wishes, if he possibly could. She got it. But she didn’t like it, not when she thought Booger was a problem. But what could she do about it when the brothers were in alignment?
Ahead of them, Booger quit paddling, which wrested her thoughts back to the present.
He turned and raised his voice. “Okay, people. We’re almost to some rapids. These ones aren’t so bad. But when we’re through them, we need to pull off to the right. It gets a lot worse. Too much for this group.”
Patrick slowed alongside Susanne. Bert and Barry waved at Brian and Annie like they’d been apart for a decade. Perry turned back toward them from Vera’s canoe. He gave Susanne a halfhearted grin. He looked like he could barely hold his head up. Susanne wanted to gather him in her arms and rock him in her lap. It wasn’t possible, though, and not just because they were in separate canoes, but also because Perry would never allow it at his age. Her heart ached for the time her children had been little. She wished she and Patrick had had more kids.
“You ready?” Patrick asked Susanne.
“I think so.”
“You’ll do great, Aunt Susanne,” Brian said.
Annie clutched the sides of the canoe. She cast a round-eyed, frightened glance back at her aunt and brother. “Brian, trade seats with me. I don’t want to be in front.”
“Cool,” he said.
The two exchanged seats.
Patrick locked eyes with Susanne. “Ride the water. Don’t fight it. If you’re heading for an obstacle, paddle on the opposite side to turn from it. Dragging a paddle to rudder only works when you’re going faster than the current, and we won’t be.”
Susanne nodded. His words and tone soothed her. He was repeating information she already knew in theory but hadn’t used in real life, so she was glad for the reminder. The closest she’d gotten to white water as a summer camp counselor in Texas was in the hot tub. The camp was west of San Antonio where the rivers were lazy and warm. Nothing like the Tukudika. She stared ahead and saw the white ripples of the rapids.
“I can help paddle,” Brian said.
“I need you hanging on so you don’t fall out.”
“Okay.”
“If one of you falls out, do you remember what Brock told us to do in our safety talk back at the canoe shop?” Patrick asked the kids.
Susanne hadn’t even thought about the possibility of one of the kids getting thrown from the canoe. She felt short of breath. And what if Perry was thrown out? What if he hit his head again? She couldn’t let herself think about it or she wasn’t going to be able to do this. She forced the thoughts away, but she still felt short of breath.
“Um, don’t drown?” Brian said.
Annie shook her head. “No, dummy. Roll on your back and put your feet downstream, toes to the sky, and arms out.”
“You forgot part of it.” Brian looked smug.
“No, I didn’t.”
“Lift your head so you can see where you’re going.”
“Oh. Yeah. That, too.”
“And when you get near the canoe, roll over and swim like mad to catch it.”
“Or you can do that to get to the shore,” Annie said.
“But what don’t you do at the shore?” Patrick asked.
Bert and Barry chimed in. “Don’t stand up.”
“Not until you’re all the way out on dry land. So, no standing, no jumping out, keep your hands and feet inside the canoe, and stay still in your seat so you don’t knock the canoe over.”
“What if Aunt Susanne falls out?” Annie asked. Her olive face had lightened several shades, and her eyes were locked on the rapids ahead again.
Not a pleasant thought.
“Then I’ll paddle.” Brian looked like he hoped it would happen. “And we’ll pick her up.”
“What if she drops the paddle?”
Patrick smiled. “You’ve got an extra, right in the bottom of the canoe. Just ride the canoe, and your dad or I will come get you. It will be all right.”
Susanne took a deep breath. The water under them was speeding up and getting louder. “Everyone’s life jacket is buckled and tight, right?”
Brian gave her two thumbs up, but Annie checked hers first before nodding.
“Whoever screams first is a rotten egg,” Bert crowed.
“I’ll bet it will be Annie,” Barry said.
Ahead of them, Booger’s canoe slipped into the rapids, dipping, and bucking. Vera screamed.
“Mom’s a rotten egg!” Bert hollered.
Seconds later, Pete’s canoe followed them.
“I’m going last in case you have trouble. See you on the other side.” Patrick reverse paddled, and Susanne’s canoe drew ahead.
“On the other side,” Susanne echoed, but her voice was a whisper.
And then a powerful, rumbling force lifted her canoe ever so slightly and propelled it across burbling water. The rushing, bubbling, tumbling sounds intensified. The nose of the canoe started to move back and forth in the current, finding its way through the rocks as if guided by an unseen hand.
WHAM.
The front right side slammed into a rock. Brian whooped and pumped a fist. This was nothing like summer camp canoeing.
WHAM.
The other side crunched into another rock. Susanne had never experienced anything like this before. She thought riding a galloping horse with the ground far below was scary. That was Mickey Mouse compared to canoeing whitewater.
Annie screamed. She clutched the seat on either side of her legs. “We’re going to tump over!”
Susanne had her paddle poised and ready, but there was nothing she could do with it. The water was in control. She felt helpless, and, at the same time, exhilarated. Faith. The water is all-powerful and yielding to it is like faith. The thought itself made her feel stronger, more courageous. Thank you, God.
Pete turned around in his seat and yelled something at her. He shook his paddle, but she couldn’t hear him. She glanced further downriver. In the distance, Booger had cleared the white water and pulled to the righthand side. But then she saw the enormous boulder in the middle of the stream between her and Pete, and she realized exactly what he h
ad been trying to tell her.
They were heading straight for the rock.
She knew she needed to paddle to the side of it, but which side? Both looked equally treacherous to her. She pictured Pete’s canoe. Which side of the rock had he been on? The left, she decided. She dug her paddle into the water on the right side of the canoe and started pulling the water, but the canoe didn’t change course.
It was being drawn straight at the boulder.
“Aunt Susanne!” Annie screamed. “The rock!”
Susanne grunted with effort. She paddled harder than she believed she could, lifting her bottom off the seat an inch as she pushed through the back half of each stroke. “Turn, you stupid canoe. Turn!”
Finally, the bow veered to the left ever so slightly. The rest of the canoe followed. And not a moment too soon, either. They slipped by the boulder so close that she could feel the vortex of water around it sucking at their canoe, pulling it toward a collision, or worse. But the downstream current and their momentum was enough to keep them free of it. She held her paddle to the right, ready to push off, but in the end, she only gave it a “not today, buddy” tap.
Annie was clinging to the seat and bracing her feet on either of the inside edges of the canoe. Brian threw both his arms in the air like he was on the downhill plunge of a roller coaster.
After the boulder, the last twenty yards of white water passed in a blink. Susanne paddled on the left, pushing the canoe toward the others lined up on the shore.
“You did it, Aunt Susanne! That was so cool!” Brian shouted.
Her ears were ringing, but she smiled. “Wow. That was something.” With the excitement over, she was lightheaded.
“I wish we could do it again!”
“Not me,” Annie said. “It was scary. Get me out of this thing.”
“We’re almost there, Annie.”
The girl rose from her seat. The canoe lurched.
Scapegoat: A Patrick Flint Novel Page 13
