Daredevil’s Run

gosh-darned self-reliant and independent she was.

Since when do I need anybody? Alone is the way I like it.

But, banging around inside her head the thought had a curious echo. And it came to her as she methodically checked over the boat and gear-an activity that brought a measure of reason and calm to her mind-that those were the same words she’d repeated over and over to herself during the first days and weeks after Matt’s accident.

Now, as then, she tried very hard not to hear the little voice way in the back of her mind whispering, Liar…

When they hit the first set of rapids Sam forgot all about the fact that she was a quart low on coffee. She felt like she was finally getting the hang of this rafting thing, and about time, too. She’d played loop the loop with clouds and raced the wind and won, but she’d never run up against anything quite like the Kern River. Flying was still her first love-okay, her second, after Pearse-but white-water rafting was rapidly moving up on third place for sheer heart-pumping, mind-blowing exhila ration.

They all did a lot of whooping and hollering like a bunch of kids on a roller coaster, and by the time they’d come through the rapids everyone was laughing and drenched, and had pretty much forgotten, at least for the moment, that there was a forest fire burning somewhere between them and home. Well, not quite forgotten; that would have been hard to do with the sun glaring redly down on them through a haze of smoke like an angry god.

They drifted in the quiet water below the rapids, resting, making jokes and doing some bragging and back- patting.

“I’m glad you’re all feeling invincible,” Alex warned them, as the current picked up and the unmistakable roar of more hydraulics came from up ahead. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet. Grab those paddles, people.”

Then, from one breath to the next, the boat became a bucking bull. Sam gave a whoop as the bow lifted into the air, and almost at the same moment, Matt threw himself chest first onto the bow’s tube to give it more weight.

The boat went into a spin, and Alex yelled, “Right-pull! Left-back! ”

Sam was pulling on her paddle with all her might, and from the corner of her eye she could see Cory dig in with his and twist his body to hold steady against the force of the current.

Then suddenly he wasn’t there.

A scream she couldn’t hear ripped through Sam’s throat. She didn’t remember dropping her paddle, but in the next instant she was lunging across the boat with only one goal in mind-to rescue her husband. She would have hurled herself into that maelstrom, too, but for the hand that gripped her arm and sent her flying.

Struggling like a netted trout in the bottom of the boat, above her she saw motion…heard Alex scream, “Matt- No!”

She got herself upright just in time to watch Matt snatch up the safety line and slip headfirst over the side.

Alex didn’t know whether she was too angry to be scared, or too scared to be angry. The turbulence inside her head and heart would have made the river look like a lily pond.

“Matt-I swear I will kill you!” She probably screamed that aloud, but inside she was sobbing, Damn you, Mattie, don’t you dare die!

It was the nightmare she’d thought she was finished with. Or the most horrible deja vu she’d ever experienced. Here she was again, seeing him fall, and fall, and fall, and helpless to do anything-not one thing-to stop it.

Who was she, anyway, a little bitty woman, no more than a hundred and ten pounds soaking wet? What could she do against a force like the river? Who did she think she was, to challenge Class V rapids with only another woman to help her? Sam was a tall woman, and strong, but hell, the two of them put together didn’t have enough weight to keep the damn boat from flying around in the turbulence like a cork in a typhoon.

She’d never felt so scared. So angry. So helpless.

All she could do was hang on to the oars and struggle to keep the two men in sight. At some point she realized Sam was doing the same thing, and that they’d both reached out unconsciously and were clinging to each other’s hands as they watched the two dark heads disappear again and again beneath the white foam.

Matt had only one thought in his head when he went over the side of the boat for the second time: I am not going to lose this brother before I get a chance to know him. I just found him. I’m not gonna lose him now.

He’d grabbed the safety line before going in, but that could be a liability, if it got hung up in the rocks, or if he let himself get tangled in it. But he knew if he could just get to Cory and get the line to him, he’d have a chance. He told himself Cory had a good chance-he had his life vest; at least he wouldn’t be like Tahoe, with no buoyancy and only his own strength to keep him afloat.

He beamed silent messages across the waves, like prayers. Hold on, man, I’m coming. Keep your head up, bro, and get those legs up, like we practiced during the safety drill. You don’t want to end up like me…

Then he saw Cory. And Cory saw him. Matt focused on his brother’s eyes, dark as coals in all that white, kept watching them as he pulled himself through the swirling, racing current with all the strength he had in his body, watched them until he was close enough to reach out and grab hold of his brother’s vest.

“Hold on, bro, I got you. You’re okay now-I’ve got you.”

Did he yell that aloud, or was it only another silent prayer? He didn’t know, couldn’t have heard anyway in the rush and roar around him.

He went under, swallowed water, but didn’t lose his grip on his brother’s vest. Came up choking and gagging, but managed to get the safety line looped around them both. He couldn’t see what was happening in the boat, which was bounding and leaping like a wild mustang, so he just started hauling himself one-handed along the line, and kept his other arm snugged across his brother’s chest. The line stretching between him and the boat grew shorter, and then he was able to throw his arm over the tube, and he felt hands reaching for him, grabbing him, pulling on him.

“No-take him!” he was able to choke out, and only when he felt Cory’s weight pulled from his arms did he allow himself to relax. He held on to the side, then, panting and coughing up river while the boat galloped over the last of the rapids and loped into quiet water.

He was hauling himself up the side of the boat, grateful for his gloves and wondering if he had enough strength left to make it when he felt Alex grab hold of his shoulders.

“This part I got,” he told her, laughing…panting. “Could use a lift on the hind end, though.”

“I should let you stay in there,” she said, in a voice as gritty as it ever got. But she leaned over and got a grip on the back of his vest and heaved, and before he had time to grab another breath, he was on his back in the bottom of the boat with his legs still up on the side.

He’d forgotten how strong she was for such a little woman. Plus, there was the fact she was mad enough at him to spit nails. Was he a crazy fool to think that was a good thing?

He caught a breath to stifle a threatening grin, then twisted around, looking for Cory. “How is he?”

Sam was kneeling beside him, and Cory’s eyes were closed, his face contorted with pain. “Broken collarbone, I think. Maybe some broken ribs.” She threw Matt a look over her shoulder, then gasped and swore. “Lord, Matt, what about you?”

“What about me? I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding, you idiot,” Alex said tersely.

That was when Matt noticed the barber-pole spiral of blood running down the calf of his elevated leg. Well, hell. He figured it probably wasn’t a good time for a flippant remark about the perks of being paralyzed, with Alex already of half a mind to kill him-which he still couldn’t convince himself was not a good thing.

Alex mad at him he could take-gladly. Time was, she’d been mad at him half the time anyway. Alex not giving a damn-that was what he couldn’t accept. And had decided he wasn’t going to, not anymore.

He watched her pick up his foot-not gently or gingerly, either, so it appeared she wasn’t squeamish about touching him-and bit down on his lower lip to keep from grinning as she scowled critically at his injury.

“You’ll live,” she announced, bending his knee and placing his foot on the same level he was, handling it as deftly as if she’d been doing it forever. “Probably won’t be bleeding to death anytime soon, either. Must’ve scraped it on a rock. Next time keep your feet up.” Muttering about rookie mistakes, she offered him a hand, and didn’t flinch