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Overview
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9780393322958 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | Norton, W. W. & Company, Inc. |
| Publication date: | 04/17/2002 |
| Edition description: | Reprint |
| Pages: | 296 |
| Product dimensions: | 5.50(w) x 8.30(h) x 0.80(d) |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Chapter One
Reith Hyde
I wasn't always a cautious man. I did things when I was youngthat astonish me now—walking through a blizzard to get to adance, chopping wedges into trees as thick as wine barrels, surethat I'd step the right way when they fell. But life has a way ofblind-siding you, and once I had a family, I could never be socareless again. Still, in this case, I was grateful for my vigilance,because I didn't let myself wait until they were overdue. If I haddawdled, assuming all was well, I could never have forgivenmyself.
My son, Glen, and his wife started their voyage in centralUtah, on October 20, 1928. They built a boat and planned tofollow the Green River south until it became the Colorado,then run that west through the Grand Canyon of Arizona andout to the flats of southern California. This was their honeymoon,a rather strenuous one, by any standard, but she wasgame. The whole trip was to take seven weeks; they were hopingto set a record for speed. But even if they missed that,Bessie would be the first woman to run the rapids of theColorado River.
I passed those weeks on tenterhooks. So much time to think.Then, in the middle of November, I got a letter from Glen,posted from a ranch halfway through the Grand Canyon. Hesaid that all was going as planned, and that they expected topass through the Grand Wash Cliffs by December 2 Fromthere it was a full week of easy drifting to Needles, where theywould send a telegram. So when the 9th arrived and there wasno news, I packed a knapsack with things I thought might be ofuse and wentdirectly to the station in Twin Falls. My daughterstried to dissuade me from going. Even Jeanne, the more practicalof the two, had to say her piece. But I made it clear I wasn'tgoing to curl up in my rocker and wait for word.
After a full day's travel, the train let me off at a point near theriver—a whistle-stop, right about where California, Nevada,and Arizona come together. Nothing but a board deck jutting offinto nowhere. I found a track that led toward the water andstarted walking upstream. It took me two days to find anyone. Icame upon several settlements, but when I got closer, I sawthey were ghost towns—doors swinging open, roofs full ofholes. This had to be the most desolate country I'd ever seen. Abig bleached-out valley, nothing but clay and salt flats. The rivermuddy and wide. No wonder everybody gave up and moved on.
At sundown, on my second day on foot, I found a man in ashack by the bank. He said he hadn't left the river for severalweeks, and that no one had come by during that time. My sonwas never a big talker, but after nearly a month in the canyon, Ifigured he would have pulled over to speak to just about anybody—youget hungry for companionship after a while. So Iknew they hadn't passed that place and must be fartherupstream.
That got me nervous—they'd been delayed for a week. I knewthey might have lost a few days here and there to bad weather,but this seemed too long. It gave me the sinking feeling that theboat had got loose and left them stranded. I had never seen theGrand Canyon, but I knew from books that it was wild, inhospitablecountry, what with the dead-end gorges and lack ofsprings. Still, I couldn't think of anyone who had better odds ofmanaging himself out there than Glen. Like most Idaho boys, hewas ranch-bred. Not prone to panic. He could walk thirty, fortymiles in a day if he had to. He knew how to gather dew withcandle wax and a bit of flour sacking, and he was a crack shot.When he was in high school, I once watched him fell a deerfrom three hundred yards. That might not sound like much. Butat that distance a deer looks like a mouse. And the bullet dropsso far you've got to aim for the head to hit the heart.
I had faith he'd weather this out.
Now his wife was another matter. Bessie was new to the outdoors.She was dreamy, accustomed to cities, thin and alwaysbent over a book. When he first brought her home to the ranch,I wasn't sure how it would go. But she surprised me, that summerbefore they set off. She put her head down and worked. Itwas like watching a filly that had looked good for nothing butmunching dandelions buck up and start taking fence lengths.She had more strength than you'd expect, given her size.
By the time I'd mulled all this over, pacing along the riverbank,it was dark, and the homesteader was kind enough to letme sleep on his floor. He was a humble fellow, eking out a livingon the shore, surviving on fish and stunted vegetables wateredby bucket in a salty plot. I had once started out with as little,but he was nearly my age—perhaps seventy—and I didn't seethings improving for him soon. After he gave me his extra blanket,he asked if I knew what day it was. When I told him it wasDecember 11, he nodded and carved a few marks on the doorjamb.Said he was off by a couple of days, and it didn't mattermost of the time, but he liked to celebrate Christmas with therest of the country.
The next morning, we shared a cup of coffee and said ourgoodbyes. I was just setting off when he came out of the cabinwith a folded handkerchief in his hand. "What's this?" he askedIt was my pocketknife, which I'd left rolled up in the spareblanket. I had hoped he wouldn't find it till I was gone. "Youdon't owe me nothing," he said, looking offended.
I told him it was a gift, not a payment, and he wasn't supposedto use it until the 25th. Man ought to have something toopen on Christmas morning. Still, he tried to hand it back.Finally I told him he'd be doing me a favor if he kept it. I hadthe feeling I was going to need the help of quite a few strangersbefore I was through, and I figured what I passed on to onemight come back from another. He nodded then, and shook myhand, and when I got to a bend in the river and looked back, hewas still there, outside that dismal little shack in the middle ofnowhere, watching me leave.
I headed back toward the railway line, turning over scenariosin my mind, keeping the river on my right. Just at sundown, Ispotted the cairn I'd left for myself and came out at the tracks. Iwas prepared to sleep on the platform, but as luck had it, I arrivedin time to whistle down the evening train. As soon as the enginechugged east, following the river upstream, I started to feel better.I was headed in their direction. I just had to keep my mindon the task at hand—bettering their odds. Making sure that, ifthey were holding out somewhere, help went to find them.
Excerpted from GRAND AMBITION by LISA MICHAELS. Copyright © 2001 by Lisa Michaels. Excerpted by permission. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.