move.
“Come on.” He tugged her arm, but she still didn’t move. He thought maybe she was still upset from earlier. “Just follow me, then.”
He got out of the cab, and after he fought through the wet underbrush, he came to two trees leaning out over a ledge. He shimmied up one of the trees so he could get a better look at the waterfall and see how far the ledge dropped. As it turned out, the drop wasn’t too much, and he would land only a few steps from where the edge of the pool lapped against the shore.
When he turned, Mary was standing at the base of the tree, holding a water bucket. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that the primary purpose of getting there was to replenish their water, especially for Lester and Sam. Joe hung from the tree trunk and then dropped to the stones. Up above, the white clouds of mist blotted out the forest and the sky. It made him feel as though they were in an enclosure, a warm, wet, misty enclosure.
Mary straddled the tree trunk and dropped the bucket. For the next half hour or more, Joe filled the bucket with several inches of water, so it wouldn’t be too heavy, and lifted the bucket up for Mary to take to the horses.
After the horses drank their fill and they had enough water for themselves, Joe shouted to Mary, “Come on down.”
She scooted along the trunk and then pushed off and fell into his arms. Her dress flew up and got trapped in his arms. When he let go she quickly yanked her dress back over her round naked belly. Joe made like he didn’t notice.
“I’m going in the water,” he said.
He stripped down to his undergarments and dashed into the water until he hit an abrupt drop-off. He kicked his feet against the deep water before he shot back to the surface again. He floated in the pool and stared up at where the waterfall crested the cliff and rained down in sheets. Whoever knew such places existed? He watched Mary crouch at the pool’s shore, scoop up water, and rub it against her face.
Later, he got the arrows out of the wagon and they both walked to the stream running into the gorge. Joe waded into the swift-moving water and waited until he spotted a fish. They were hard to see because they blended in so well with the rocks below. He kept his eye on one, lifted the arrow above his head , and drove it into the water as hard as he could. But when he pulled the arrow out to see his catch, it was empty. He stood still and waited for the water to settle again and for the scattered fish to return. After he trained his eyes on another fish, he hurled the arrow once more. Nothing.
“This is impossible,” he said.
He jabbed the arrow at yet another fish, but it too darted away. He flung the arrow onto the stones along the shore where Mary stood. Then he stomped out of the stream and plopped down. Mary moved and Joe glanced at her. She bent over her round belly, gathered up the hem of her dress, and tied it up between her skinny thighs.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She didn’t answer, of course. She simply walked over to the arrow and picked it up.
“Oh, so you think you can do better, huh? Well, go ahead, be my guest. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
She walked out into the middle of the stream while Joe stood up and stepped closer.
“You have to be real still.”
She leaned forward and hunched over. She got close to the surface and held the arrow above her head with two hands. Slowly she inched the tip of the arrow down. She hesitated, waited, and then jammed the arrow into the water. When she yanked it back out, there was a wriggling fish impaled on the end.
Joe was dumbfounded and elated at the same time.
“Bring it here,” he said. “I can’t believe you got one.”
He pulled the fish off. Watery blood seeped from where it had been pierced. The fish squirmed and twisted.
“I’ll get it ready,” Mary said.
“Sure,” Joe said. “I’ll see if I can spear some more.”
He exchanged the fish for the arrow and watched her
“Come on.” He tugged her arm, but she still didn’t move. He thought maybe she was still upset from earlier. “Just follow me, then.”
He got out of the cab, and after he fought through the wet underbrush, he came to two trees leaning out over a ledge. He shimmied up one of the trees so he could get a better look at the waterfall and see how far the ledge dropped. As it turned out, the drop wasn’t too much, and he would land only a few steps from where the edge of the pool lapped against the shore.
When he turned, Mary was standing at the base of the tree, holding a water bucket. In his excitement, he’d forgotten that the primary purpose of getting there was to replenish their water, especially for Lester and Sam. Joe hung from the tree trunk and then dropped to the stones. Up above, the white clouds of mist blotted out the forest and the sky. It made him feel as though they were in an enclosure, a warm, wet, misty enclosure.
Mary straddled the tree trunk and dropped the bucket. For the next half hour or more, Joe filled the bucket with several inches of water, so it wouldn’t be too heavy, and lifted the bucket up for Mary to take to the horses.
After the horses drank their fill and they had enough water for themselves, Joe shouted to Mary, “Come on down.”
She scooted along the trunk and then pushed off and fell into his arms. Her dress flew up and got trapped in his arms. When he let go she quickly yanked her dress back over her round naked belly. Joe made like he didn’t notice.
“I’m going in the water,” he said.
He stripped down to his undergarments and dashed into the water until he hit an abrupt drop-off. He kicked his feet against the deep water before he shot back to the surface again. He floated in the pool and stared up at where the waterfall crested the cliff and rained down in sheets. Whoever knew such places existed? He watched Mary crouch at the pool’s shore, scoop up water, and rub it against her face.
Later, he got the arrows out of the wagon and they both walked to the stream running into the gorge. Joe waded into the swift-moving water and waited until he spotted a fish. They were hard to see because they blended in so well with the rocks below. He kept his eye on one, lifted the arrow above his head , and drove it into the water as hard as he could. But when he pulled the arrow out to see his catch, it was empty. He stood still and waited for the water to settle again and for the scattered fish to return. After he trained his eyes on another fish, he hurled the arrow once more. Nothing.
“This is impossible,” he said.
He jabbed the arrow at yet another fish, but it too darted away. He flung the arrow onto the stones along the shore where Mary stood. Then he stomped out of the stream and plopped down. Mary moved and Joe glanced at her. She bent over her round belly, gathered up the hem of her dress, and tied it up between her skinny thighs.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
She didn’t answer, of course. She simply walked over to the arrow and picked it up.
“Oh, so you think you can do better, huh? Well, go ahead, be my guest. It’s not as easy as it looks.”
She walked out into the middle of the stream while Joe stood up and stepped closer.
“You have to be real still.”
She leaned forward and hunched over. She got close to the surface and held the arrow above her head with two hands. Slowly she inched the tip of the arrow down. She hesitated, waited, and then jammed the arrow into the water. When she yanked it back out, there was a wriggling fish impaled on the end.
Joe was dumbfounded and elated at the same time.
“Bring it here,” he said. “I can’t believe you got one.”
He pulled the fish off. Watery blood seeped from where it had been pierced. The fish squirmed and twisted.
“I’ll get it ready,” Mary said.
“Sure,” Joe said. “I’ll see if I can spear some more.”
He exchanged the fish for the arrow and watched her
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