The Anything Box

be kind of scarce for a fish like that.'
The faded old eyes peered at him. 'Scarce? Well, now that depends,' the oldman said. 'Listen.'
'This is your bait, or your lure or flies,
Take her sobs when your lady cries,
Take the tears that fall from her eyes
For the Grunder.'
Crae felt the sting of the words. The only time he'd seen Ellena cry overhis tantrums was the first time he'd really blown his top. That was the timeshe'd tried to defend herself, tried to reason with him, tried to reassure himand finally had dissolved into tears of frustration, sorrow anddisillusionment. Since then, if there had been tears, he hadn't seen them—onlyfelt her heart breaking inch by inch as she averted her white, still face fromhis rages and accusations.
'My wife doesn't cry,' he said petulantly.
'Pore woman,' said the old man, reaming one ear with his little finger.'Anyway, happen some day you'll want to go fishing for the Grunder, you won'tforget.'
The sound of Ellena's laughter inside the store drew Crae to his feet.Maybe they could patch this vacation together after all. Maybe Ellena couldput up with him just once more. Crae's heart contracted as he realized thatevery 'once more' was bringing them inevitably to the 'never again' time forhim and Ellena.
He went to the screen door of the store and opened it. Behind him, he couldhear the creak of the old man's chair.
'Course you gotta believe in the Grunder. Nothing works, less'n you believeit. And be mighty certain, son, that you want him when you fish for him. Onceyou hook him, you gotta hold him 'til you stroke him. And every scale on hisbody is jagged edged on the down side. Rip hell outa your hand firststroke—but three it's gotta be. Three times—'
'Okay, Pop. Three times it is. Quite a story you've got there.' Crae letthe door slam behind him as he went into the shadowy store and took thegroceries from an Ellena who smiled into his eyes and said, 'Hello, honey.'
A week later, the two of them lolled on the old army blanket on thespread-out tarp, half in the sun, half in the shade, watching the piling ofdazzling bright summer thunderheads over Baldy. Stuffed with mountain trout,and drowsy with sun, Crae felt that the whole world was as bright as the skyabove them. He was still aglow from catching his limit nearly every day sincethey arrived, and that, along with just plain vacation delight, filled himwith such a feeling of contentment and well-being that it overflowed in asudden rush of tenderness and he yanked Ellena over to him. She laughedagainst his chest and shifted her feet into the sun.
'They freeze in the shade and roast in the sun,' she said, 'Isn't itmarvelous up here?'
'Plumb sightly, ma'am,' drawled Crae.
'Just smell the spruce,' said Ellena, sitting up and filling her lungsecstatically.
'Yeah, and the fried fish,' Crae sat up, too, and breathed in noisily. 'Andthe swale, and,' he sniffed again, 'just a touch of skunk.'
'Oh, Crae!' Ellena cried reproachfully, 'Don't spoil it!' She pushed himflat on the blanket and collapsed, laughing, against him.
'Oof!' grunted Crae. 'A few more weeks of six fish at a sitting and all therest of the grub you're stashing away and I'll have to haul you home in astock trailer!'
'Six fish!' Ellena pummeled him with both fists. 'I'm darn lucky to salvagetwo out of the ten when you get started—and I saw you letting your belt outthree notches. Now who's fat stuff!'
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They scuffled, laughing helplessly, until they both rolled off the blanket
onto the squishy black ground that was still wet from spring and the nearness
of the creek. Ellena shrieked and Crae, scrambling to his feet yanked her up
to him. For a long minute they stood locked in each other's arms, listening to
the muted roar of the little falls just above camp and a bird crying, 'See me?
See me?' from the top of a spruce somewhere.
Then Ellena stirred and half-whispered, 'Oh, Crae, it's so wonderful up
here. Why can't it always—' Then she bit her lip and buried her face against
him.
Crae's heart reluctantly took up it's burden again. 'Please God, it will
be,' he promised. 'Like this always.' And she lifted her face to his kiss.
Then he pushed her away.
'Now, Frau, break out the corn meal and the frying pan again. I'm off to
the races.' He slipped the creel on and picked up his rod. 'I'm going down
where the old beaver dam used to be. That's where the big ones are, I’ll
betcha.'
' 'By, honey,' Ellena kissed the end of his sunburned nose. 'Personally, I
think I'll have a cheese sandwich for supper. A little fish goes a long way
with me.'
'Woman!' Crae was horrified. 'What you said!'
He looked back from the top of the logging railroad embankment and saw
Ellena squatting down by the creek, dipping water into the blackened five
gallon can they used for a water heater. He yelled down at her and she waved
at him, then turned back to her work. Crae filled his lungs with the crisp
scented air and looked slowly around at the wooded hills, still cherishing
drifts of snow in their shadowy folds, the high reaching mountains that lifted
the spruce and scattered pines against an achingly blue sky, the creek,
brawling its flooded way like an exuberant snake flinging its shining loops
first one way and then another, and his tight little, tidy little camp tucked
into one of the wider loops of the creek.
'This is it,' he thought happily. 'From perfection like this, we can't help
getting straightened out. All I needed was a breathing spell.'
Then he set out with swinging steps down the far side of the embankment.
Crae huddled deeper in his light Levi jacket as he topped the rise on the
return trip. The clouds were no longer white shining towers of pearl and blue,
but heavy rolling gray, blanketing the sky. The temperature had dropped with
the loss of the sun, and he shivered in the sudden blare of wind that slapped
him in the face with a dozen hail-hard raindrops and then died.
But his creel hung heavy on his hip and he stepped along lightly, still
riding on his noontime delight. His eyes sought out the camp and he opened his
mouth to yell for Ellena. His steps slowed and stopped and his face smoothed
out blankly as he looked at the strange car pulled up behind theirs.
The sick throbbing inside him began again and the blinding flame began to
flicker behind his eyes. With a desperate firmness he soothed himself and
walked slowly down to camp. As he neared the tent, the flap was pushed open
and Ellena and several men crowded out into the chill wind.
'See,' cried Ellena, 'Here's Crae now.' She ran to him, face aglow—and eyes
pleading. 'How did you do, honey?'
'Pretty good.' Somewhere he stood off and admired the naturalness of his
answer. 'Nearly got my limit, but of course the biggest one got away. No
fooling!'
Ellena and the strange faces laughed with him and then they were all
crowding around, admiring the catch and pressing the bottle into his cold
hands.