Can't get Wetter
The canyon was a thin, crooked thing winding through mountains of stone. The two men on horseback rode through it single file, trudging through the foot of water. Their clothes were dark with wet, their faces all but covered by hats weighed down by constant torrential rain. The wet rock glittered all around them in the moonlight, but the men knew the beauty hid very real danger behind it, like most things out west. Despite their urging, they couldn't get their horses to go much faster than a light trot—there wasn't room for anything else.
The first rider, a dark blonde, curly-haired man on a chestnut mare, sat tall in the saddle and watched the storm, his mouth set in a frown. He had the build and the looks to swoon women, but there was something serious in his blue eyes, something potentially dangerous. It wasn't that he wasn't easygoing; he was, he merely carried himself in a manner, even when relaxed, that showed he was cautious, ready, at all times.
Jed 'Kid' Curry looked back at the second rider and yelled, "Heyes, we'd better get a move on. Shortcut or not, we better get outta here."
Hannibal Heyes nodded, urging his white blazed sorrel forward as he watched rocks tumble from the top of the canyon wall. He was the planner of the two, the self-proclaimed genius, and his intelligence was evident in his brown eyes. He had an easy confidence about him, appeared as though he tried not to take anything too seriously, and had a sharp wit to match his mocking smile. In the canyon, however, his handsome face was expressionless, without its customary half-grin, and the Kid knew he was upset. Not many other men would have been able to gauge that he was troubled.
Seemingly unconcerned, their soaked horses splashed forward, but Heyes and Curry shared a glance. Neither had to speak their worries aloud; the two knew each other, could read each other without words. They both looked up as lighting struck and the dark sky warned the storm was going to get worse before it got better.
They knew they were in a bad situation; the shortcut through the gorge had backfired when an unexpected summer storm caught them. If the squall kept up, they could get pinned in the valley and drown. Luckily, they knew that somewhere a little bit ahead of them the canyon widened and one of the walls eased into a bank their horses could struggle out on.
"Almost there," Kid called, their escape—the slope—in his sight. In the dark lighting everything seemed blue or black, so he couldn't read his cousin's face when he glimpsed backwards.
Just as Kid rounded the bend, a chunk of slate slid down the canyon, landing with a splash in front of Heyes' horse. The mare panicked and reared as best she could in the tight space, losing her footing on the slippery rocks. Rider and horse fell hard, and it looked to Curry as though she had pinned Heyes beneath her.
"Heyes!" The fallen mare was panicking, splashing up the rainwater and restricting his view. Kid's heart was in his throat as he tried to spot his cousin. He couldn't decide whether to leap off his horse and tackle Heyes' animal or rush his horse forward, turn around, and come back to help. Finally, the fallen horse labored into a standing position.
Heyes had managed to get out of the way of the struggling animal, but it looked like something was wrong; it seemed he couldn't put any weight on the left leg.
"Hang on, Heyes, I'm coming back," Kid shouted, already half off his horse.
"No, Kid, get your horse to higher ground. I can manage mine."
Kid was hanging off his horse, but he stopped, hesitating. Heyes had managed to get into a standing position, leaning on the mare, and he grabbed the reins. "Go on!"
Despite the fact Heyes was yelling over the upsurging storm, Kid could hear the stubborn streak in his voice. The noise in the canyon had grown, a rumbling sound vibrating off the walls. Kid wondered why he got the rap for being obstinate—Heyes had the attitude of a mule. After a moment, he nodded, remounted, and plodded toward the slope.
Heyes breathed a sigh of relief; he had a bad feeling he knew what that rising rumbling was and it wasn't thunder. He figured whatever had been damming the canyon up was about to give. Heyes put his bad leg into the stirrup and grabbed his saddle horn. The pain was intense even moving his knee but the noise was getting louder and more rocks were falling off the wall.
Heyes took a deep breath and forced himself to push off the ground with his good leg and get in the saddle. He winced with the pain of putting pressure on his bad knee and forced himself to get up and spur his horse. A neigh came from above him and he knew the Kid had made it to the top. The rumbling got louder and louder and his frightened mare started to run as fast as she could in the small space. Heyes encouraged her but as they rounded the bend and entered the wider gulch, she slipped again, and horse and rider went down for the second time. Heyes had time to curse before he hit the rocky canyon floor.
Kid had forced his panting horse to the top of the wall and was looking down at Heyes, worried about his partner who was in obvious pain. He grinned when Heyes got back into the saddle and urged his partner silently to hurry up. Then he heard the rumbling noise—what he had assumed was thunder—increase. Heyes' horse took off and they had nearly made it when the horse stumbled and the two of them fell. Kid swore and urged his horse forward again—he was going to get his partner himself and damn the horse.
Heyes' mare had thrown a shoe and she panicked, rolling to her feet as quick as she could. The trembling horse started up the slope without her rider. Kid spurred his animal forward, headed down the ramp, and caught the reins of Heyes' mare.
"You okay?" Kid's brow was furrowed, his normally relaxed expression rigid with worry as he looked at his fallen partner.
Heyes got up on all fours and spat out muddy water. "Just great."
And then the world exploded.
Heyes heard the flood before he saw it. He raised his head, a wry smirk on his face, and had the sense to take a deep breath just before the wall of water slammed into him.
On the slant, Kid heard a loud BANG and he looked to the left end of the valley to see a boulder get blown out of place and a river of water rush from behind it. Some of the raging water soared up the bank and the two horses shied and jumped backwards just as Heyes was overcome. Kid kicked his horse into action, still holding the reins of the other horse, and spurred them up the incline. As soon as they were at the top he dropped the extra mare and kicked his hard forward, following the water down the valley.
Heyes was under the water for what seemed like forever, being dragged against the bottom, despite his best efforts to head toward the surface. It was as if the water was a living entity that wanted to swallow him, to suffocate him. He was fighting the flood and the panic that wanted to cloud his mind. He couldn't hold his breath much longer, his lungs were burning, and he was near tears with the irony that an ex-outlaw who had been shot at a million times, nearly hung, and had survived just about all other serious disasters was going to die by drowning. He hoped the Kid would make it on his own. Just as his razor sharp mind was turning dull, just as the blackness started to take over, he was thrust upward.
Heyes spluttered and choked as he broke the surface, and he managed to breathe feebly as the water flung him into one side of the canyon then another. He felt at least a half dozen scrapes from the left canyon wall and several bruises from the right. When he got a decent breath he tried to swim, but the current was too strong, the water too wild, and he had about as much control as a rag doll. After one hard slam into a wall, he stopped moving; a rock in the middle of rushing water.
On top of the canyon, Kid jerked his reins hard and stopped. "Heyes?!"
Heyes took a waterlogged breath to answer. "I'm stuck, Kid!" They could barely hear each other. "Can't get free."
Cursing, Kid jumped off his horse, threw off his hat, and hurdled into the water. He hit hard and came up winded and dazed from the jump and the sudden cold. The gunslinger was nearly swept past his partner, but they reached out and grabbed one another.
"My foot's stuck," Heyes shouted above the roar as he tightened his grip on Curry.
Kid nodded and took a deep breath before going under, holding onto Heyes' torn jeans so as not to be swept away. Heyes' booted foot was wedged tight between two rocks and a bunch of debris. Kid tugged in several directions, even propping his feet against the rocks for leverage, but it was no use. Finally he surfaced for air and saw that the rising water was up to Hannibal's neck.
"Hurry and try one more time!" Heyes commanded. "If it doesn't work, you swim on out of here and get out yourself."
In response, Curry gave Heyes a rather dirty look before holding his breath and disappearing under the water again. This time he pulled out his knife and started sawing at the boot, his jaw set and his muscles tight.
Meanwhile, only Heyes' face was above the deluge. He took a deep breath as the dark churning water swept over him.
Kid tugged and cut, a look of determination on his face; either he'd free his partner or they'd both drown—he wouldn't abandon him. Heyes was submerged completely, bubbles coming out his nose as he tried to help pull free. The water kept rising and Kid was out of air. Finally Curry had cut all the way down the boot and the two of them pulled Heyes free.
They swam upwards and wheezed when they surfaced. They let themselves be swept down the canyon until they saw an overhang big enough to take hold of. Kid clutched the ledge and held on, grabbing Heyes as he was swept by. The younger man towed his partner closer and shoved him onto the rock. Heyes, in turn, grabbed Kid's hands and pulled him up. Wet and half drowned, they lay there panting.
"Were you worried?" Kid asked after he caught his breath.
"Nah," Heyes replied smoothly. In truth, he had always thought drowning was a terrible way to go, and when the water had covered him he'd realized he had a bit of claustrophobia in him. He couldn't stand being closed in, whether in water or a jail. "Were you?"
"No," Kid said. They looked at each other and grinned; they both knew better. "We'd best get climbing."
Heyes nodded and the two of them started up the canyon wall gingerly, glad the rainy weather pushed the snakes inside. The two were usually decent climbers, but Heyes' injured knee made him slower, trying only to use his good leg. Not to mention the fact that he had only one boot. Kid stayed below him and the two started up, carefully checking each hand or foot hold before using it.
"I hurt my knee—why're you so slow?" Heyes asked loudly, knowing full well Kid was staying beneath him so as to try and help him if he slipped.
"Just being cautious," Kid said, avoiding the question and fooling no one.
After a time, Heyes was close to the top and he reached for one last protruding rock. The wet moss on it made him slip and he was suspended in space until he latched on to a jutting root.
"Careful," came Curry's voice from below him.
"Says the guy who jumped thirty feet into floodwater," Heyes replied as soon as he exhaled in relief. "I hate the rain."
"You've got to look on the bright side, Heyes."
Hannibal could hear the grin in his partner's voice and he rolled his eyes. They continued on in silence until Heyes finally made it over the edge. He hoisted himself up and waited. When the Kid was near the top, Heyes reached over and helped him up. They both stood and watched the valley fill with water solemnly; it could have been their grave.
A whinny from nearby caught their attention and they saw that their horses were taking shelter under a rock shelf extending out of a nearby cliff. The two ragged ex-outlaws headed towards their mounts, their clothes and socks sopping, with Heyes limping and leaning heavily on Curry's arm.
"So." Heyes looked at Kid as they reached their horses. "What's the bright side?"
"We can't get any wetter."