In the Heart of the Canyon - By Elisabeth Hyde Page 0,22

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-ass dog,” said Abo.

JT spat out a mouthful of sand.

“I hope there’s a backup lunch,” said Mitchell, 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 scrape 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 embarrass 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 shin.

“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