Chapter Four
THE PATHFINDER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daria looked around. She stood at the edge of the parking area adjacent to the picnic area. She had nothing to park or picnic. No use standing here. In the upstream direction, the drive ended in a little circle just below the end of the dam. From there, she could clamber down the gigantic gravel that Dad referred to as 'riprap' to the slack water below the dam, or she could climb the steps at the end of the concrete part of the dam and see what was on the upstream side.
Below the giant gravel, a stone ledge thrust out into the channel, narrowing it and causing a large, slow eddy where the bankside current flowed upstream for a hundred yards or so.
Below that, directly riverward from the picnic area, concrete steps led down the bluff to a concrete walkway with a sturdy guardrail directly above the river. Today it was a twelve-foot drop to the water level. She'd just come from there.
Below the walkway, from what she'd been able to see, the bank was steep and unimproved, thickly grown with trees and brush. But at the south end of the picnic area, Daria thought she could see... she pulled out her telescope, extended it, and took a closer look... yes. A path led into the woods at the top of the bluff.
Daria walked up the drive a little way, to see if there was any activity just below the dam. There was one man down there. That made three fishermen here today, four, counting herself. Daria assumed there would be a good many more on a weekend. The man had a spinning outfit like hers, only much bigger. He was trying to make very long casts with it, and sometimes succeeding. She walked a little closer and sat down on a flat-topped rock to watch.
During the time when the man was retrieving his bait, Daria looked around her and found some berries growing low among the rocks. They looked and tasted like blackberries, but they were growing on vines rather than bushes. She sat and ate berries for a few more minutes while watching the man, and wondered if he'd catch enough fish to pay for his time and equipment.
Or maybe that wasn't his primary motivation, she thought, watching him go through the elaborate wind-up portion of his cast, then abort and start again. Maybe it was for relaxation, or distraction, or to get out of the house, or... hmm. Daria wondered if that would make a good subject for an article. Interview a bunch of fishermen about why they fished. Would people want to read it? Would a magazine buy it? Would Dad take her back here to talk to more fishermen?
Where was Dad now? And Mom and Quinn? Would they make it in time? Her family should probably arrive at Highland General in twenty or thirty more minutes, if Dad managed to avoid an accident the whole way back. They'd all be much safer if Mom were driving, but it was more likely that she was in the back seat with Quinn, comforting her and giving what aid she could. Daria was mostly glad she wasn't along for that particular ride. Dad's driving was wild enough under ordinary circumstances. She shuddered to think how he might drive with Quinn in the back seat, seriously injured, maybe...
No! Quinn wasn't dying! She wouldn't even think that. Maybe it was something not serious, but painful. Maybe it was something that looked a lot worse than it actually was. Maybe... maybe it wasn't Quinn at all.
Maybe Quinn freaked and screamed like that when she saw what had happened to Helen or Jake. Dad had been wrestling with the fishing rods when she'd left, trying to untangle them. Maybe he'd stuck himself with a fishhook. That might help explain why she'd found his best outfit lying on the ground. Daria wished she'd stayed and untangled the rods for him. She knew she could have done it better and faster. Any calm, rational human being with most of his fingers could.
But Dad getting stuck with a fishhook wouldn't cause that level of panic, wouldn't cause them to go roaring off and leave her here. Unless... unless it stuck in his eye.
Oh, no! That was something Daria would definitely not think about. Starting as soon as she could get that awful picture out of her head.
This wasn't helping. Daria realized she didn't have enough information to deduce who had been hurt, or how, or even if anyone had been hurt. There could be some other explanation, even if she couldn't think of one. She should stop thinking about it, at least for now.
What should she be thinking of, then? She should think about what to do, what her folks expected her to do. They obviously considered her capable of taking care of herself for a few hours. Daria was pleased and rather proud of that. Would they expect her to contact them? There was no public phone here. One of the fishermen might have a cell phone, and it might work way out here, even though Mom's hadn't, but they wouldn't expect her to approach all those strangers. So they would expect her to wait until they came back for her. And in the meantime, they'd expect her to stay safe and not wander off while they dealt with... oh, please be all right!
Well, since they wouldn't be returning for a while, she might as well check out that path now. Should she take these two fishing rods with her, or hide them? Hide them. There was no one in sight at the moment. She laid them under a holly bush in the strip of woods between the riprap area and the picnic area and sprinkled some large sycamore leaves over them.
Walking across the picnic area, Daria noticed several adjacent trashcans full of trash that indicated a large-scale cookout had taken place here yesterday. Cardboard boxes that had held large quantities of hamburger and hot dog buns, jumbo potato chip bags, large baked bean cans and similar containers told of a large but basic feed. Scouts, maybe, she thought.
At the start of the path, she stopped to check her compass. As she'd thought, the path ran south-southeast, parallel to the river here. Daria entered the woods.
~~~~~~~~~
Watch for Chapter five- WALK ON THE WILD SIDE
THE PATHFINDER
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daria looked around. She stood at the edge of the parking area adjacent to the picnic area. She had nothing to park or picnic. No use standing here. In the upstream direction, the drive ended in a little circle just below the end of the dam. From there, she could clamber down the gigantic gravel that Dad referred to as 'riprap' to the slack water below the dam, or she could climb the steps at the end of the concrete part of the dam and see what was on the upstream side.
Below the giant gravel, a stone ledge thrust out into the channel, narrowing it and causing a large, slow eddy where the bankside current flowed upstream for a hundred yards or so.
Below that, directly riverward from the picnic area, concrete steps led down the bluff to a concrete walkway with a sturdy guardrail directly above the river. Today it was a twelve-foot drop to the water level. She'd just come from there.
Below the walkway, from what she'd been able to see, the bank was steep and unimproved, thickly grown with trees and brush. But at the south end of the picnic area, Daria thought she could see... she pulled out her telescope, extended it, and took a closer look... yes. A path led into the woods at the top of the bluff.
Daria walked up the drive a little way, to see if there was any activity just below the dam. There was one man down there. That made three fishermen here today, four, counting herself. Daria assumed there would be a good many more on a weekend. The man had a spinning outfit like hers, only much bigger. He was trying to make very long casts with it, and sometimes succeeding. She walked a little closer and sat down on a flat-topped rock to watch.
During the time when the man was retrieving his bait, Daria looked around her and found some berries growing low among the rocks. They looked and tasted like blackberries, but they were growing on vines rather than bushes. She sat and ate berries for a few more minutes while watching the man, and wondered if he'd catch enough fish to pay for his time and equipment.
Or maybe that wasn't his primary motivation, she thought, watching him go through the elaborate wind-up portion of his cast, then abort and start again. Maybe it was for relaxation, or distraction, or to get out of the house, or... hmm. Daria wondered if that would make a good subject for an article. Interview a bunch of fishermen about why they fished. Would people want to read it? Would a magazine buy it? Would Dad take her back here to talk to more fishermen?
Where was Dad now? And Mom and Quinn? Would they make it in time? Her family should probably arrive at Highland General in twenty or thirty more minutes, if Dad managed to avoid an accident the whole way back. They'd all be much safer if Mom were driving, but it was more likely that she was in the back seat with Quinn, comforting her and giving what aid she could. Daria was mostly glad she wasn't along for that particular ride. Dad's driving was wild enough under ordinary circumstances. She shuddered to think how he might drive with Quinn in the back seat, seriously injured, maybe...
No! Quinn wasn't dying! She wouldn't even think that. Maybe it was something not serious, but painful. Maybe it was something that looked a lot worse than it actually was. Maybe... maybe it wasn't Quinn at all.
Maybe Quinn freaked and screamed like that when she saw what had happened to Helen or Jake. Dad had been wrestling with the fishing rods when she'd left, trying to untangle them. Maybe he'd stuck himself with a fishhook. That might help explain why she'd found his best outfit lying on the ground. Daria wished she'd stayed and untangled the rods for him. She knew she could have done it better and faster. Any calm, rational human being with most of his fingers could.
But Dad getting stuck with a fishhook wouldn't cause that level of panic, wouldn't cause them to go roaring off and leave her here. Unless... unless it stuck in his eye.
Oh, no! That was something Daria would definitely not think about. Starting as soon as she could get that awful picture out of her head.
This wasn't helping. Daria realized she didn't have enough information to deduce who had been hurt, or how, or even if anyone had been hurt. There could be some other explanation, even if she couldn't think of one. She should stop thinking about it, at least for now.
What should she be thinking of, then? She should think about what to do, what her folks expected her to do. They obviously considered her capable of taking care of herself for a few hours. Daria was pleased and rather proud of that. Would they expect her to contact them? There was no public phone here. One of the fishermen might have a cell phone, and it might work way out here, even though Mom's hadn't, but they wouldn't expect her to approach all those strangers. So they would expect her to wait until they came back for her. And in the meantime, they'd expect her to stay safe and not wander off while they dealt with... oh, please be all right!
Well, since they wouldn't be returning for a while, she might as well check out that path now. Should she take these two fishing rods with her, or hide them? Hide them. There was no one in sight at the moment. She laid them under a holly bush in the strip of woods between the riprap area and the picnic area and sprinkled some large sycamore leaves over them.
Walking across the picnic area, Daria noticed several adjacent trashcans full of trash that indicated a large-scale cookout had taken place here yesterday. Cardboard boxes that had held large quantities of hamburger and hot dog buns, jumbo potato chip bags, large baked bean cans and similar containers told of a large but basic feed. Scouts, maybe, she thought.
At the start of the path, she stopped to check her compass. As she'd thought, the path ran south-southeast, parallel to the river here. Daria entered the woods.
~~~~~~~~~
Watch for Chapter five- WALK ON THE WILD SIDE