Once Upon a River Page 0,44
have put her with other people. She wished Brian had more books at the cabin, something besides the guidebooks for tying knots and identifying animal tracks, both of which she’d read and reread.
The first day the rains let up, Margo crossed the river. She called the dog out to the float, and the dog jumped in her boat. But before Margo could push off, the man appeared from behind the shed and stepped knee-deep into the water in his swim trunks and tennis shoes. He grabbed the back end of her boat. He was thin and at least a few inches taller than Margo. “Evening,” he said calmly. “Where are you taking my dog?”
“A-cr-cr-cross the river. I live over there.” She glanced behind her at the dog sitting on the prow seat. The dog’s mouth was open in what looked like a smile. She barked happily.
“I know where you live, but why are you taking my dog?” His biceps strained against his bones. Tendons stood out on one side of his neck, and he was losing his balance as Margo continued rowing in place. “You’re just plain not going to answer me.”
Mosquitoes landed on Margo’s legs and arms, and they bothered the man, too. When he let go of her boat with one hand to swat at them, Margo broke free. The man folded his arms and stood in the water watching her, looking more perplexed than angry as she rowed away.
“Cleo, you and I probably need to have a talk,” the man said in a loud but conversational voice. To Margo’s relief, he did not call the dog right away. His figure grew smaller as she rowed upstream and approached the cabin. She parked at the dock, and King jumped over the side of the boat and swam to shallower water to sniff along the muskrat holes and twisted roots. The man across the river disappeared and returned with binoculars. A while later he called, “Cleo!” and the dog dove into the water and headed home.
A few days later, Margo motored to the gas station at Heart of Pines to buy food, ammo, toilet paper, and bottled gas with the money Paul had left. She had not dared bring her rifle. She couldn’t carry it into the store for fear someone might recognize it as Cal’s, but she didn’t want to leave it in the boat and risk it being stolen. She tied her boat a ways from the other boats and draped her tarp over it. Inside the store, she added up prices, calculated tax in her head, and managed to put together a purchase totaling $33.82. She had planned to buy gasoline, but there was a line at the single pump and she didn’t want to wait around with the dozen men who were hanging out there. She figured she would get gas next time.
Halfway back, just above Willow Island, she cut the engine and floated downstream with the current to save gas, rowing only to fix her direction, keeping an eye out for dogs, birds, and kids—any sign of life—along the water’s edge. The miles of dark, empty river belonged to her. She drifted near the riverbank and imagined some people inviting her to a meal or just to sit and listen to stories. Instead, as she rounded the last bend above her cabin, she saw Brian’s boat parked at the dock. A bright, cold light shone from inside the cabin—Paul’s fluorescent lantern. She steered herself toward the opposite bank and hoped Paul would not be watching the river as she floated past. She pulled over at a snag just below the yellow house and watched the cabin until she saw Paul and Johnny go outside. A few minutes later, they returned to the cabin, carrying a jug of something. She wished she had taken her chances with her rifle and hadn’t left it under the bed with her backpack. The night grew darker, and she waited for the men to leave, but they did not. A half-moon appeared and disappeared behind the trees. The night grew cool. When their light went out, she unfolded her canvas tarp and curled atop it on the boat’s back seat. She pulled the rest of the tarp over her like a blanket and used her orange life vest as a pillow.
Margo awoke shivering to the sound of barking. The light of the rising sun was diffuse behind a haze of clouds. She was no longer in the boat, but