Title: HDTH, Numeral 3: Chinks in the Armor
Author: FraidyCatChapter 6: First Catch (Language Warning. Don gets mad.)
An hour later, Charlie wasn't laughing.
Standing nearly waist-deep in the swiftly flowing river, trying harder just to stay on his feet than he cared to admit, Alan had been excited when he heard a familiar yelp off to his side, and then the unmistakable splash of a fish fighting against a line. He struggled to wade over to help Charlie reel in, if he needed it. Charlie had looked at him with nothing short of terror, and shoved the pole in his hands before Alan knew what was coming.
In the ensuing melee, Alan dropped his own brand new pole, and Charlie tried to backpedal as fast as he could. The river was unforgiving of scurrying, however, and Alan watched in horror as Charlie stumbled and tipped over backwards, soon disappearing under the ripples.
Don had started for Charlie at the same time as Alan, from the other side, downstream. His own pole was quickly sacrificed when something larger than a fish hit him underwater, nearly taking him down as well. Instintively, he lowered his hands into the icy depths and miraculously, latched onto Charlie's hair.
He would know that hair anywhere, and while the river tried to claim his brother, Don pulled against it with all his might. Suddenly Charlie popped out of the river like a cork out of a champagne bottle, and again it was all Don could do to keep from going under himself. Somehow, he managed to move one hand from Charlie's hair to his arm.
By this time Lou had waded up behind him. In one hand she held Alan's fishing pole, which she had caught as it drifted past her, and with the other she grabbed Charlie's other arm. Her body stood solidly at Don's back, bracing him. She jerked roughly with her strong, weathered hand, and Charlie found his feet. "Head for the bank," she ground out, as if the two brothers needed to be encouraged in that direction.
The other two in the party, a married couple from Ohio, they had learned on the trip to the fishing spot, were still heading for them. They had been farther downstream, but had heard the commotion and started straining against the water with far less experience and success than Lou had. Now that they saw everyone heading for the bank, they cut in that direction as well.
Bringing up the rear, Alan still gripped Charlie's pole in a death-grip of fear, not even realizing he still had it. The fish was long gone. Lou moved them all toward the lowest part of the shoreline, which still had a few feet of vertical mud to negotiate until you made your way up into a small clearing where she always set her guests up with sack lunches. Once there, she tossed Alan's fishing pole onto the ground and began roughly pushing Charlie and Don up onto the bank.
As Alan felt her pull the pole out of his hand and start to urge him up to the clearing, he heard her grumbling angrily. "Damn city people. More trouble than they're worth." He would have stopped to drown her himself, but he was too distracted by Charlie's coughing, which had not stopped since his brother pulled him out of the river, and he scrambled up the mud as fast as he could.
Alan hit the grassy area on his knees, and he didn't bother to stand. He just crawled the few feet to where Don half-sat, half-lay, one hand still holding Charlie's upper arm, the other protectively on his supine brother's back. Alan quickly cupped Don's face with one hand, then reached out to Charlie, who was coughing less, and struggling to sit up. "Oh, God. Boys, are you all right?"
Don, face pale and shivering from cold and fright, tried to smile and reassure his father. "I got a big one, Dad. Couldn't bring it in by myself, though."
Charlie had obtained some altitude and he shot Don a look. He took a breath, which caused another coughing fit, but kept nodding his head as much as his father's searching hands would let him. "F-f-fine," he finally managed to say. "I'm o-o-okay. S-s-sorry."
Curls drenched and flattened against his head, the stark whiteness of his face standing out under the day's stubble, Charlie looked anything but fine. But he could talk, he didn't appear to have broken anything, and they were all safe on the shore. Alan worked at calming the mad beating of his heart. His hand still worked through Charlie's hair, dislodging bits of debris, as he locked eyes with Don. "Thank-you," he said, almost reverently. "Donnie, thank-you…"
Don shrugged uncomfortably. What did his Dad think, that he had a choice in the matter? Did he think that Don would not give his life for Charlie?
Alan had dropped his hand to Charlie's leg, and looked at Lou and the others, who still stood at the edge of the water. "They're both soaked. We need to get them back to camp and dry them off." He regretted not stopping to drown the woman when she all-but sneered at him.
"Charters head back for camp at 2 p.m. Just a little water. Slickers seem fine to me. Lost one of your poles, though. The three of you will have to share."
Alan made a disbelieving sound of protest, and heard the soft murmur of the woman from Ohio. "Really, Ms. Anderson, we don't mind going back early. We're here all week. The poor guys really are soaked…"
Lou assessed Charlie and Don one more time before she dismissed them. "Y'all understand money," she said. "You think the rights to this section of river come free? I got an investment to protect myself. As long as I've got fishermen in the water, ain't nobody gonna sneak in on my claim." She nodded her head, once. " 'Sides, can't run a business lessen you got a strong set of rules everybody understands. Charters head back to camp at 2."
Don had suffered just about enough. He wasn't all that wet, himself – he had never gone completely under, and the chest wader had done its job – but Charlie was a drowned rat. He started to get to his feet so he could tower over the woman in a stance of intimidation, but the younger man was leaning pretty heavily on him, so he settled for his best interrogation-room stone-face. "If you don't take my brother back to camp now, you'll loose this damn claim and your little guide business faster than you can say 'attorney'. Assuming you can manage that many syllables at all, of course."
Charlie opened his mouth to try to reassure everyone and end the impasse, but ended up coughing again, with a pathetic wheeze added at the end. He felt his father's grip tighten on his leg. He watched with fascination as Lou matched Don's glare. "Got me one-a them A-turn-eys myself," she said mildly. "He tells me a breech of contract means I can kick anybody I want outta my camp. No refund."
This time Don stood up, after making sure Charlie could sit on his own. He looked down on Lou Anderson with contempt. "Not a fucking problem," he answered. "Move your ass and drag that drift boat over here."
Charlie sneezed, and another quart of river water ran out his nose. Before his father or brother could react, the fisherman from Ohio cleared his throat. "Actually, Ms. Anderson…. I may not have mentioned this. I sort-of am an attorney. Attorney-General. State of Ohio. One can correctly assume I have a few professional contacts in most states. Now, my wife has assured you that we don't mind returning to camp early today. Perhaps you can consider bending the rules, just this once?"
A slow smile took over Don's face. Alan grinned, and Charlie just shivered. Lou looked at the man and his wife for a moment, then took off without answering, wading through the water for the drift boat. She mumbled all the way. "Damn Internet. Damn Gaggle, or Giggle, or whatever it is. Troublemakers, every last one of 'em. Nuthin' but troublemakers."