She scooted up next to Rob. “How were the Andersons?”
“A little uptight,” he replied. “I think this trip will do them all some good. They could use a strong dose of enforced relaxation. But you can see for yourself. There they are now.” He nodded his head toward the front of the building.
A group of six people had stopped by the diner’s sign so one of them could take a picture of it. All were dressed in what looked to be brand-new, brushed nylon zip-off pants, sun-protection button-down shirts, safari hats, and expensive multi-sport sandals. Many of their shirts still showed the creases from the packaging. Someone had taken the suggested packing list to heart.
The older couple had happy smiles on their face, and one of the two young men swung his arms in anticipation. But one of the two young women was looking around at the take-out window and outdoor seating with her nose turned up in disdain. When the young man with the camera asked the rest of the group to pose in front of the sign, she rolled her eyes, but grudgingly cozied up to the others.
Oh, brother. Mandy squared her shoulders and plastered a bright smile on her face.
Rob waved the group over and introduced them to Mandy. The parents, both in their fifties and carrying some extra pounds, were Diana and Hal Anderson. A comb-over was ineffective in hiding Hal’s bald patch, and gray roots peeked out along the precise part in Diana’s hair. As Mandy remembered, the clan was from Omaha, Nebraska. The older Andersons looked like typical well-to-do, middle-aged mid-Westerners, who probably got most of their exercise from playing golf.
Her assessment was verified when Rob asked Hal where he got his tan—that extended to his collar line—and Hal answered with, “Golf ! Diana and I play every Saturday we can, her with her lady friends and me with the guys.”
While Diana shook Mandy’s hand, the older woman said, “I’m both excited and nervous about this trip. It’s been a long time since we took the kids camping, and we’ve only gone rafting a few times as a family. Living in Omaha, we have to travel pretty far to find whitewater.”
“Where have you gone rafting before?” Mandy asked.
Diana ticked the trips off on her fingertips. “The Big Sandy River in Kentucky—the easy part, Big Horn Sheep Canyon on the Arkansas, and some river in the Texas hill country.”
“The Guadalupe?”
“That’s it!”
Mandy nodded. All of those river sections contained Class I to III rapids, which were easier than the Class III and IV rapids they would encounter in Cataract Canyon. These folks would likely need some coaching, but she could tell that Diana was looking for reassurance.
“It’s great that you’ve been on some rafting trips before,” Mandy said. “We’ve taken beginners with no experience at all on Class III to IV runs and they’ve worked out fine. With your experience, I’m sure you’ll have no problems.”
“Phew, that’s a relief.”
The blond and blue-eyed young man with the camera reached over his mother’s shoulder to shake Mandy’s hand. He was a younger and more athletic version of his father.
“I’m Alex Anderson,” he said. “I made the reservation. And I’m the family rafting expert. I go to the University of Wyoming, so I’ve rafted western rivers like the Yellowstone in Montana, the Snake in Wyoming, and the Arkansas in Colorado.”
Rob broke off his conversation with Hal Anderson to ask, “What sections of the Arkansas?”
“Brown’s Canyon and the Royal Gorge.”
“You’ll handle Cataract Canyon just fine, then. You may even be able to give the rest of your family some pointers. What’s your major?”
“Geology.”
“What a coincidence,” Mandy said. “A geology professor from the University of Wyoming is also coming on the trip.”
Alex’s face went blank for a moment, then he said, “Yeah, I know her. Elsa Norton. She suggested this trip when I told her I wanted to plan a whitewater and climbing adventure for my family.” He glanced around. “Is she here?”
“Not yet,” Rob said, “but I’m sure she and her daughter and husband will be along soon.”
“Husband?” Alex’s eyes widened in surprise.
“Ex-husband,” Mandy amended. “Now, who’s this next to you?” She made a special effort to smile, since it was the woman who had turned up her nose at the diner and was now watching the flies buzzing the outdoor tables with dismay.
“Oh, this is my oldest sister, Alice,” Alex said. “I’m the baby of the family.”
“And the favored son,” his sister quipped.
“Nice to meet you, Alice.” Mandy noted the woman’s firm handshake and wiry, athletic build. “Do you live in Omaha, too?”
“Yeah.”
Not much of a conversationalist. Mandy cocked her head. “What do you do there?”
“I’m a PE and health teacher at Marian High School.”
“Ah, that makes sense. You look really fit.”
Finally a smile appeared on Alice’s face, a little smug one. “Thanks.”
Diana leaned in and touched Mandy’s arm. “Both of my girls went to Marian. It’s the only Class A girl’s high school in Nebraska. Very exclusive, and they provide an excellent education. I’m so pleased Alice is working at her alma mater.”
“What do you do to stay in such good shape?” Mandy asked Alice, to draw her out some more.
“I coach the girl’s swimming and lacrosse teams, and I mix it up with them a lot.” Seemingly tired of the conversation, she looked around. “Does this place have a restroom?”
Rob pointed. “In the back.”
Alice walked off, leaving the last two members of the Anderson family in front of Mandy and Rob, along with Alex. Kendra had come over to introduce herself to Diana and Hal Anderson and had taken them to meet the others.
“This is my sister Amy.” Alex swept a hand toward the young couple next to him. “And her husband, Les Williams.”
Also blond and blue-eyed, Amy was attractive, but in a softer, more rounded and feminine way than her athletically fit sister and brother. When she shook hands, Mandy noticed that, like her mother and sister, Amy’s fingernails were professionally manicured and painted with a light pink polish. She wondered if the three women had had a salon day together recently and thought, why bother? By the end of the trip most of their nails would be broken and mud-caked. At least, that’s how Mandy’s always came out, so she never bothered with manicures.
While she shook hands with Mandy, Amy said, “I’m the middle child. Les and I live in Omaha, too.”
“What do you do there?” Mandy asked.
“I’m just an old-fashioned housewife,” Amy said timidly and glanced at her husband. “I cook and clean and garden. Les is the breadwinner.”
Amy’s husband looked to be in his mid-thirties, about ten years older than his wife. He had the large, bulky build of a bar bouncer or former football player, but of one who had gone a little soft around the edges. He had a tight grip around his wife’s waist, and his handshake was almost bruising. He eyed Mandy up and down until she shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny.
“I’m a corporate security officer.” Les said it with almost a swagger, as if the title should mean something to Mandy and Rob.
“Sounds important,” Rob said.
Good, Mandy thought. Rob had caught on that this guy expected some buttering up.
“It is. Mostly hush-hush, too.” Les released his wife and rubbed his hands together. “I’m starving. I hope this place makes a good burger.”
“That’s what they’re known for,” Rob replied. “And their shakes. They have all kinds of flavors and they’re really thick.”
“Oooo, I’d better stay away from those,” Amy said. “Got to keep my figure for Les.”
Rob swept a hand toward the line in front of the order window. “Go ahead and get whatever you
want. Tell them to put it on RM Outdoor Adventures’s tab.”
The Nortons had arrived while Ron and Mandy had been talking to the Andersons, and they were in the food queue along with the others. Mandy looked around. No sign of Tom O’Day yet. Cool was playing it just a little too cool.
After they had all gotten food and taken their seats, Rob suggested they go around the table while they were eating and share their names and occupations. “And tell us something else about yourself, like your favorite food.”
This was a common ploy on pre-trip get-togethers for multi-day trips. Mandy would make a mental note of the favorite foods. Then she would make a last-minute run to the local City Market grocery store to buy whichever items she could that would pack well.
Gonzo set a light tone for the sharing by clapping a hand on his chest. “I’m Gonzo Gordon, the best river guide you’ll see this side of the Mississippi, and I’m being modest here. I’m also your quartermaster, in charge of supplies, so if we run out of TP, come beat up on me. And, I’m one of your two climbing guides …”
He raised a questioning eyebrow at Mandy, but she shook her head. Don’t mention Cool.
“… and my favorite food is—what else?—pizza!” he finished with a bow.
“Where the heck is O’Day?” Mandy whispered to Rob.
“Don’t worry, I’m sure he’ll be here.”
When it was Alex Anderson’s turn to talk, he said, “I’ve got two new favorite foods now. It’s a hard choice between this awesome chocolate shake,” he held up his tall Styrofoam cup, “and the best tater tots I’ve eaten in my life.” In his other hand, he held up a greasy paper tray of Milt’s specialty tater tots that came with every order. He nodded his head toward Rob. “Great choice for dinner tonight.”
Mandy was sure his oldest sister wouldn’t agree, as her tater tots remained untouched. While the introductions continued, Mandy noticed Alice frowning at the plastic utensils. After sawing away at something in her turkey Cobb salad with her plastic knife, she leaned over to make a disparaging remark to her brother-in-law. Les laughed and nudged his wife to join in.
Just as the last introductions were made, Tom O’Day sauntered up. He wore tight jeans and a pearl-button shirt, opened wide enough to show off some of his chest hair. His damp long hair was tied back with a strip of rawhide. When he brushed past Mandy, she caught the whiff of a strong musky aftershave.
Rob introduced O’Day to the others and asked him to share. While he spoke, Mandy noticed his gaze locking onto each of the female clients at the table. All except for Diana Anderson, who had her hand on her husband, Hal’s, knee, and Amy Williams, who was under the protective arm of her husband, Les.
Rob stood, told Cool to grab some food, then launched in to his pre-trip speech. He reviewed what they had mostly covered both in pre-trip emails and again when the clients had checked in for the trip, but it never hurt to give out directions multiple times.
After taking a few questions, he clapped his hands together. “Okay, who knows how many rafting guides it takes to screw in a lightbulb?”
Mandy knew this joke. She assumed Kendra, Gonzo, and Cool all did, too, and were wisely keeping their mouths shut.
Rob looked around as a few clients shrugged. “The answer is eleven. One to screw it in and ten to talk about how big the hole was.” He paused for the chuckles to die down. “We’ll be seeing some whopper holes on this trip. Now, I don’t want to run you off if you want to socialize some more, but be sure to get a good night’s sleep. We expect you to be at the outfitter building at seven o’clock sharp!”
Prompted by Gonzo, a collective groan went up, mostly in good fun, except for Alice Anderson and Les Williams, who seemed to really mean it.
“Why so damn early?” Les asked.
“We’ve got a full day planned for you,” Rob replied. “We’ll stop for lunch where you can see some petrified wood logs, some of which are still sticking out of the solidified mud sandstone that preserved them, and—”
“I care a lot more about getting a good night’s sleep than seeing a few old logs,” Les said.
“Well I, for one, am looking forward to seeing them.” Alex’s hard stare at Les was a challenge.
“Me, too,” Paul chimed in.
Rob held up a hand. “The petrified forest isn’t the only reason we’re leaving early. We plan to reach the Little Bridge campsite by mid-afternoon, so anyone who wants to can climb to some caves in the cliffs before dinner. It’s seventeen miles downstream. Since we’ll be floating on flatwater the whole way, it’ll take some time to get there.”
Les made a face but remained silent.
Most of the group stood and started to leave, throwing their trash in the diner’s oil barrel trash can on the way out. The Anderson family all left theirs on the table, however, as if expecting a bus boy to clean up after them. There was no such thing. Kendra jumped up to clear their trash.
Cool O’Day had taken a seat near the gal-pals and was chatting them up while he ate his Cowboy Burger with cheddar and jalapeños. “You know what would make this burger better? If it was drowned in marinara sauce and mushrooms.” He patted Mo’s knee. “Like Mo here, I have a hankering for Italian food. Goes good with cool nights like this.”
Viv leaned in. “Is October a good time to be taking this trip?”
“Hell yes,” Cool replied. “You get bigger water in May, but fall’s for taking it slow, savoring the experience. Know what I mean?” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively then put a hand on his heart. He sang a few lines in a deep baritone from a song Mandy didn’t recognize, something about autumn weather turning leaves to flame and spending precious days with you. He ended with a flourish and a bow, obviously begging for applause.
The women all accommodated him, laughing while they clapped. They seemed to enjoy Cool’s attention and weren’t in a hurry to leave.
After saying goodbye to Paul Norton, Rob put an arm over Mandy’s shoulder and drew her close. “What do you think? We got a good group?”
On most multi-day trips, personality problems cropped up and had to be smoothed over, and Mandy could see the potential here. But no more than usual, really. No one seemed ready to kill anyone else yet.
“So far, so good,” she said to Rob.
three
We said there warn’t no home like a raft, after all. Other
places do seem so cramped up and smothery, but a raft don’t.
You feel mighty free and easy and comfortable on a raft.
—mark twain, adventures of huckleberry finn
Mandy stood outside the outfitter building the next morning, sipping her second travel mug of coffee. She hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, because added to the excitement she felt before embarking on any whitewater rafting trip was the anticipation of a first descent down a river that was new to her. While butterflies battered her stomach, she chaffed her arms and stomped her feet to generate some warmth.
The eastern sky’s rosy hue portended the sun’s rise in about twenty minutes, and Mandy was anxious to feel its warming rays on her face. The morning air was still a chilly fifty degrees. Once the sun rose, though, the temperature would rapidly climb with it to about seventy-five. Mandy and the other guides had finished prepping and loading the vehicles while wearing fleece jackets and zip-off pants, but they would shed their jackets and lower pant legs soon. As usual, Gonzo wore shorts regardless of the temperature, as he did until winter snows hit the Rockies.
The three gal-pals, Betsy, Viv, and Mo, were the first clients to arrive a few minutes prior to seven. After Mandy greeted them, they sheepishly admitted that they had been up late chatting over a couple of bottles of wine.
With a smile, she replied, “No problem. That’s what vacations are for. You can nap on the river today. Help yourself to some breakfast.” She swept an arm toward the door of the outfitter building, where she ha
d put out coffee, donuts, and fruit on the counter inside.
The women stumbled into the building to soak up some energizing caffeine and sugar, and Mandy returned her attention to the trip’s small caravan. The vehicles sat with full gas tanks and engines running, so heaters could warm the interiors. The exhaust steam rising around the dark hunks of steel made her think of hunkered-down dinosaurs, with the prehistoric-looking backdrop of Moab’s looming sandstone formations in the background. This area of the American West was prime dinosaur fossil territory, after all.
First in line was the large pickup truck piled high with gear and towing the raft trailer. The two large oar rafts that would carry most of the gear and few or no passengers were strapped on the bottom, with the two smaller eight-man paddle rafts on top. Most of the clients would ride in those. Besides the climbing aspect, the paddle rafts were another unique feature of their trip. Most outfitters just offered oared rafts or even larger motorized rafts called J-rigs in Cataract Canyon. Mandy and Rob were giving their clients the opportunity to power a small 8-man raft through the rapids rather than just holding on while the guide did all of the work.
The fifteen-passenger van idled behind the pickup truck. All of
their clients would ride to the river in that, along with Kendra, Gonzo, and Mandy. Kendra would drive and Gonzo would entertain. As for Mandy, she wanted the opportunity to size up their clientele some more on the half-hour drive along the Potash-Lower Colorado River Scenic Byway to the put-in at the Potash Boat Ramp.
Rob would drive the pickup truck, with Cool O’Day riding, so they could talk about the climbing side trips planned. Last in the lineup was a beat-up old Subaru with three deeply tanned young men inside chowing down on donuts. Rob had hired the out-of-work river guides to drive their vehicles to the Hite Marina on Lake Powell, their takeout point, and leave the keys in the marina office.
By seven fifteen, all but one of their clients had arrived, loaded up on breakfast, and found seats in the van. The missing man was Paul Norton. Mandy looked up where he was staying on the roster and called his motel. Reception buzzed his room, but there was no answer. She had just about decided to send the guys in the Subaru to the motel to roust Paul out of his room when he arrived in his car.
Fatal Descent Page 3
