“But where this first-place team really excelled was on the float-fishing day,” John continued. “Most of the other teams’ scores were lower on that day, compared to the wading day, probably because one partner or another had to keep stopping to row or steer the raft. This team’s score, however, actually went up on the float-fishing day.”

  Jesse and his brother were grinning at each other like fools now.

  “They caught a total of fifty-three trout on the second day, making their grand total ninety-nine. Couldn’t you have caught just one more, fellas?”

  At this, the crowd laughed.

  “Everyone give a warm round of applause to our first-place team, Jesse and Rafael Lopez.”

  A roar went up as the two men worked their way to the front and shook hands with John and Carol. John handed them a check and a large trophy on a wooden base with a plaque. Rafael hefted the shiny gold cup and held it aloft for all to see. He nodded toward a dark-haired woman sitting off to Mandy’s left, who was clapping wildly with tears in her eyes. The woman’s pregnancy bulge was large enough that her belly button was poking out, forming a small lump under her straining T-shirt.

  That prize money is coming just in time, Mandy thought as she turned back to the front of the room.

  John shushed the crowd by waving his arms down. He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder. “So, tell us your secret, Jesse. How’d you two catch so many fish?” He held the microphone under Jesse’s mouth.

  “Well, not by cheating, that’s for sure,” Jesse said.

  While the crowd groaned, Mandy noticed Ira Porter glowering on the far right side of the room. She decided he shouldn’t be too upset. He did walk away with the second-place individual trophy. His rookie teammate, however, kept them out of the money for the team awards.

  “Rafael and I have grown up in this valley” Jesse continued, “and we know the contours of the riverbed like we know the bodies of our wives.”

  The crowd roared with laughter. Rafael’s wife lowered her head, her cheeks flaming.

  “We fish the Arkansas every chance we get—”

  Rafael grabbed the mike. “Yeah, maybe our wives won’t complain so much now after we take them out for steak and champagne to celebrate!”

  That led to another round of cheers, one from Rafael’s wife.

  The two men started to walk back to their seats, but John grabbed Jesse’s shoulder, holding him back. “Might as well stay up here, Jesse, because you’re our first-place individual winner!”

  Rafael ran back and wrapped his brother in a bear hug while the crowd clapped and cheered. John handed Jesse another check and large trophy, and the two brothers held the pair of awards up for all to see.

  Once the crowd finally quieted down, John said, “Jesse’s individual catch for the two tournament days was sixty-three trout, and he caught three of the four species in the river. Not quite a Colorado Grand Slam, but close. So, Jesse, how do you feel?” He held the mike out again.

  “Very, very happy,” Jesse said. “I only wish Howie Abbott was still alive so I could have beat him fair and square. But I’m sure I would have. My rod was smoking these past two days.”

  The two men started working their way back to their table, shaking hands and accepting congratulations along the way. Behind them, John made final announcements, reminded everyone to return next year, and asked people to throw away their trash and for a few folks to stay and stack chairs.

  When Jesse and Rafael reached their table, Rob stood and shook both their hands. “Good job, guys. Congratulations!”

  “Now I feel even worse for breaking your nose,” Jesse said, while Rafael moved on to the next table. “A tournament winner should set an example for the young folks and shouldn’t be brawling and cursing.”

  “I’m sure you’ll think twice before you do something like that again.”

  “Yeah, well now that I’ve got all this dough, I’ll be bringing over a case of beer, not just a six-pack.”

  Mandy started to say something about Rob’s hospital bill, but Rob shot her a look, then turned to Jesse. “And while we’re celebrating your win with the beer, we can talk about the doctor bill, and how you might help me out there.”

  Jesse’s eyes widened with surprise, but he quickly recovered. “Yeah, sure thing, man.” He held up the trophy and took a good look at it again. “You know, it felt good to whup Ira’s ass, but I wish Howie was still alive, so I could have beaten him, too. I really wanted to stuff this sucker in his face.”

  “As you said up there, your rod was smoking,” Rob said with a smile, “so you would have beaten him anyway.”

  Jesse held up a thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “There will always be that little bit of doubt, but I’ll try not to let it bother me.” He plastered on a big smile. When Rafael pulled on his arm to talk to someone else, Jesse gave Rob and Mandy a little salute, but his smile was already starting to fade.

  “Sounds like Jesse’s not quite satisfied with his win,” Mandy said as she watched him walk away. And if he really felt that way, would he have killed his main competition right before the tournament? Or did he sneak away from his gas station between customers, and this regretful talk is all just for show?

  “Well, I’m satisfied,” Rob said while draping an arm over her shoulder. “I’ve picked up cards from four of the out-of-state teams here who are interested in using our fishing-guide services once we train our guides and buy the equipment. Speaking of which, any word from the real estate agent? Did the couple respond to your counteroffer?”

  Mandy tensed. “Bridget called with a new offer from them right after Cynthia was arrested and while I was waiting to see her. I told Bridget I couldn’t think clearly then, that I needed the weekend to mull it over and I’d get back to her Monday.”

  After a pregnant pause, Rob said, “And you’re still mulling it over.”

  “I haven’t even started to think about it.” Mandy suddenly felt totally wiped out from all the events and stress of the day. She leaned against Rob. “What I really need is a good night’s sleep, if I can even get to sleep while worrying about Cynthia.”

  Rob kissed the top of her head. “Okay, I get the message. I’ll give you your space tonight and tomorrow. If you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

  While he walked her to her car, Mandy realized that though she hadn’t really meant to send the message to Rob to back off and leave her alone, maybe it was for the better. And thank God he wasn’t mad about it. She glanced at him. Nope, he wasn’t. It was almost creepy. The man understood her better than she understood herself.

  _____

  Mandy spent Saturday on the Arkansas, rowing her cataraft beside Steve’s as they patrolled the river. Thankfully, she hadn’t had to rescue anyone because her mind was engrossed with the dilemma of getting Cynthia out of jail. She had called Lee Ellis in the morning and set up an appointment that evening to discuss Cynthia’s bail fund with the family.

  While she and Steve had paddled through Brown’s Canyon in the morning, Mandy had run names of potential donors through her head and figured out how to approach each one and for how much money. She didn’t need to worry about Rob; he’d already offered money the night before. Mandy practiced her pitches on Steve until he said he’d contribute some money if she’d just stop obsessing about it and focus on her ranger duties instead.

  Only a few pods of commercial rafts and a couple of private rafts were in the canyon that morning since the season was winding down and the water level was low. None of the rafters had any difficulties, and Steve only had to give one private boater a stern warning about not leaving trash on the river bank after a lunch stop. They had watched while the guy paddled back to the shore and gathered up his trash to stow in his raft.

  It was one of the last warm days of the rafting season. A cold front was due in late that afternoon, bringing with it rain, plunging temperatures, and the unofficial start of fall, though the fall equinox wouldn’t occur for a few more days. Mandy had brought her fleece and spray jackets along in case they were still on the Arkansas when the weather blew in. Right now, though, after finally focusing on her surroundings instead of on Cynthia, she was enjoying the brilliant sunshine sparkling on the river and the brilliant yellows of the hillside aspens.

  Steve gave voice to her thought, “A perfect late summer afternoon.”

  Mandy sluiced her oars through the water. “I’m going to miss being out on the river most days.”

  “Yeah, the end of the month will be here before you know it, and your employment for the year will be over. You’ve had a great first season, Mandy. I’d like to recommend that AHRA hire you again next year. You still interested?”

  Mandy glanced at Steve’s earnest face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You and Rob have RM Outdoor Adventures to run.” He shrugged. “I thought that might take more of your time, especially if Rob’s plans for expansion pan out.”

  “No matter what, I’ll make time to be a river ranger next summer. I like the work. I get paid to be on the river. It’s exciting…a little too exciting sometimes, though.”

  Steve cracked a smile. “I won’t count the bodies against you.”

  “I hope not!” Mandy smiled back at him. “And thanks for the recommendation. It’s nice to know I didn’t screw up too much. And sorry about bugging you this morning with my pleas for bail money.”

  “I’m glad to help.” Steve’s brow furrowed. “But what about future expenses? Can Cynthia afford a good lawyer?”

  Mandy sighed. “I doubt it. I’m hoping to convince her to ask her mom for help, even though they’re on the outs.”

  “An even more important question is whether Cynthia really needs a good lawyer. How solid is Quintana’s case?”

  “He’s got physical evidence, her thumbprint on the murder weapon. That’s pretty damning. And she has motive, but I don’t want to go into it.”

  “I’ve heard rumors. Remember, Salida’s a small town. The rafting community’s even smaller, and we count Cynthia as one of our own. She’s served all of us at the Vic. What a bum deal.” Steve rested his oars under his knees and peered at Mandy. “Are you convinced she’s innocent?”

  A lump rose in Mandy’s throat. “God, I wish I could say yes, that I’m a hundred percent convinced, but I can’t. I want her to be innocent. I really can’t picture her using that hatchet on her own uncle.”

  Steve looked off into the distance. “Nor can I.” He pointed. “Hey, there’s your uncle’s place. I’m starving and could use a break. Why don’t we stop and hike up to it? There are picnic tables in the backyard, right?”

  “Right. Good idea. I haven’t checked on the place yet this week, with all the stuff that’s been going on. Thanks for suggesting we stop.”

  They beached their rafts and tied them to some willow bushes, then hiked up the hill and across the road to her uncle’s abode that had also housed his small whitewater rafting business. On the way, Steve said, “I heard you put the house up for sale.”

  “Yeah, but I’m still not convinced I want to part with it.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s the last home I shared with Uncle Bill. I’ve got a lot of good memories of happy times here.”

  Steve nodded and stopped to gaze at the quiet house. “Reminds me of something your uncle told me once. He said the river was his real home, that he always just thought of this as a place to run his business and lay his head at night until you came to live with him.” Steve looked at her. “Bill said you made it a second home for him. Until you moved out, that is.”

  Tears sprang to Mandy’s eyes, and all she could do was nod in response.

  Sensing her need for some private time, Steve went around to the back to sit at one of the weathered picnic tables there and eat a late lunch.

  Mandy used her key to go inside and look around. Since a lot of the furniture had been removed, the old wood floors and walls echoed with her footsteps. She looked over the customer check-in counter into Uncle Bill’s office, but without the desk and chair, she couldn’t really form a picture of him sitting there anymore with the phone to his ear. It was the same in the other mostly empty rooms. While she had memories still of what had gone on in those rooms, she didn’t feel her uncle’s presence in any of them. It just felt cold and foreign, like the abandoned building it was.

  After locking up, she walked back down to the river and sat on the bank to eat her PBJ sandwich in the sun. A breeze caressed her face and a sense of calm oozed into her tense muscles. Here, outdoors, was always where she and Uncle Bill had belonged, where they found comfort, fulfillment, and their livelihoods. And wasn’t outside where she had felt his presence since he’d died? Not once, when she’d been in his house after he died, had she ever heard his voice, felt his touch. But she had sometimes on the river, especially where she’d cast his ashes.

  She put the last quarter of her sandwich on the plastic bag in the grass beside her and hugged her knees to watch the current flow by. Suddenly a Western bluebird swooped down and snatched a beakful of bread with jam, carrying it into an alder bush by the bank. Mandy could no longer see the bird among the foliage, but she could hear its soft kew calls and chatter as it savored the sweet treat it had snatched. Probably fattening itself up before it flew down to Mexico for the winter.

  “Got a real sweet tooth, huh,” Mandy said to the bird.

  Just like Uncle Bill.

  Mandy stuffed the rest of her sandwich in the bag and got to her feet. She headed back up the hill toward Steve and the house, the house that she now knew what to do with.

  Seventeen

  Don’t tell fish stories where the people know you; but particularly, don’t tell them where they know the fish.

  —MARK TWAIN

  Mandy walked up to the Ellis front door with some trepidation Saturday evening. The last time she’d seen the family was when Brenda had yelled at her for picking on a grieving parent and called Mandy despicable. Not a good start for asking the family to donate money to Cynthia’s bail fund.

  Lee opened the door to her knock and led her back to the living room, where Craig lay on the sofa watching a sitcom on TV. Brenda sat in her La-Z-Boy rocker, jerking the chair swiftly back and forth with one foot. Her knitting needles clacked in rhythm with the chair.

  When Craig saw Mandy, he turned the TV off, sat up and, with a wave of his hand, indicated she should take a seat next to him. Brenda looked up, frowned and resumed her work on the gray and blue yarn Mandy had seen the last time she’d been to the house.

  Mandy decided she’d better start groveling. She perched on the edge of the sofa, faced Brenda, and began with her rehearsed speech. “I owe all of you an apology for the way I behaved Thursday morning. I was worried about Cynthia, but that was no excuse for being rude to you. I’m very sorry.”

  Brenda harrumphed, while Lee settled into his chair next to hers.

  He glanced at his wife, then said to Mandy, “Apology accepted. We’ve all been under a lot of stress lately, and your concern is understandable.” As if anxious to change the subject, he quickly added, “Are you planning to come to Faith’s funeral service tomorrow?”

  “Yes, I’m taking off work for it.”

  “We’re having a lunch reception afterward at the house. We thought it would be more comfortable for Faith’s friends to come here instead of having the reception at the church. You’re invited.”

  “Thank you. I’d like to come. ” Then as another peace offering, she asked, “Can I bring anything?”

  Lee looked at Brenda.

  Brenda blinked, as if suddenly realizing she was expected to answer this question. “A dessert, I guess.” She dropped her gaze back down to her knitting, obviously avoiding looking at Mandy.

  “Sure, I’d be happy to.” An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Mandy smoothed her jeans that didn’t need smoothing while trying to think of something else to say or a way to bring up Cynthia’s bail fund.

  Thankfully Craig filled the gap. “We visited Cynthia in jail this afternoon.”

  Mandy turned to him. “How was she?”

  “Depressed. She seemed resigned to staying there for a long time.”

  “Not if I have anything to say about it,” Mandy said. “I’m collecting donations to bail her out on Monday, once the judge sets the amount. Even if it’s high, all we need is about five percent to give as collateral to a bail bondsman.”

  Lee leaned forward, making his leather chair creak. “That’s if the judge sets bail. Sometimes they don’t in murder cases.”

  “Crap, I hadn’t thought of that.” Mandy’s hands clenched. “That means she could be in jail for months before they finally schedule her trial. She could lose her job, and if she can’t pay rent, her apartment. No, they’ve got to let her out on bail!”

  “What if she’s convicted, Mandy?” Craig said quietly. “She’d be in prison for years.”

  Brenda flinched and dropped a stitch. She clenched her teeth while she picked apart the yarn to fix her mistake.

  “Do you think she did it, Craig?” Mandy studied his face. When he raised his brows and shrugged his shoulders in the universal gesture for “who knows,” Mandy pressed harder. “Do you really think she could drive an ax through her uncle’s throat?”

  Brenda gasped.

  Mandy looked at the woman, who’d given up on her knitting and sat with her fist in front of her mouth, her face reddening. “I’m sorry, Brenda. I shouldn’t have brought up how your brother died. But I just can’t see Cynthia committing such a violent act.”

  “Who’s to say what violence someone could be capable of,” Lee said philosophically, “if you or someone you love is threatened?”

  “But you already said you’d never do such a thing, even to protect Faith,” Mandy replied. “Why do you believe Cynthia could?”

  Lee shrugged. “It’s hard for me to understand what she feels, having been a victim of Howie’s …” He glanced at his wife. “You know. But regardless of whether or not she did it, Cynthia is family. We’ll contribute to the bail fund, and do everything else we can to make sure she gets a good defense. Right, Brenda?”