Chapter 5: River Rescue

Earlier that day, and several miles due west, a single rider left the narrow ridge trail and descended into the valley snaking his way through hillsides sprinkled with ash and juniper trees and patches of thick scrub brush. With his saddle bags laden with supplies and having ridden for the better part of the day, Will was beginning to feel a bit stiff in the saddle but glad to be in his own company for once. Below he could see glimpses of the river as it wound its way through the valley, disappearing now and again behind stands of cottonwood.

An hour later he stopped at the river intent on watering his horse while he stretched his tired limps. Leaving the horse to drink, Will retrieved his canteen and made his way a little further downstream where he discovered a small open clearing. Here the river had widened and slowed creating a pool of calm water on the north shore. A small group of trees were growing near the side of a muddy river bank with several branches dipped down and dragging in the water providing a natural canopy of shade.

Will squatted down and threw some water over his face to wash the trail dust from his eyes then took a long refreshing drink. He rinsed out his canteen and refilled it looking up and the late afternoon. With luck, he'd make it to White Rock a little after sunset and set up camp as planned. As he went to recap the canteen though, a strange sound suddenly drew his attention. He instantly stopped what he was doing and listened intently for several seconds. But he heard nothing more than the rippling water.

Will shrugged and stood back up. But as he slung the canteen strap onto his shoulder, the sound came again. He froze. Quickly he drew his gun and listened. After another minute the noise came again, clearer this time and it seemed to be coming from the river itself. It sounded like a moan or a faint cry coming from the low hanging branches in the river. Perplexed, Will wondered if some animal had become trapped. Peering into the shadows, he thought he saw movement. Yes, there was definitely something in there he decided, but couldn't tell what it was from where he stood.

He waded a few inches into the water but suddenly slipped in the muddy sediment and felt cold water rushing into his boot. Grabbing a tree limb to steady himself, he cursed wondering what the heck he was even doing bothering with some stupid animal that might be stuck and half drowned anyway! But as he turned to make his way back up the bank the sound came again. This time he thought he heard the word "help." His head whipped back peering into the shadows. Ignoring the icy coldness Will worked his way further into the river until he was almost thigh deep. That's when he stopped in utter surprise. It was not a something, but a someone. A kid! A boy, barely conscious, was draped limply over a log and entangled in a thicket of branches.

Shocked, Will re-holstered the gun and quickly waded over to him. As he reached the boy he heard him groan then saw him weakly try to move his arms. His eyes opened briefly before fluttering shut again. "Take it easy kid – I'll get you out!"

Will tried to move the log aside but found it to be wedged in tight among the overhang of willowy branches and piles of debris. It took several minutes of pulling and tugging at the tangled mess before he was able to free the boy at last. Rolling him into his arms, he found him to be ice cold, his lips practically blue and looking more dead than alive. With some effort, Will waded back to shore, slipping several times while trying to get back up the muddy embankment. The boy was dead weight, made worse by his soaked jacket and boots. He half carried, half dragged him over to dry ground and laid him gently on a bed of dead leaves. Collapsing on his knees next to him he panted, momentarily out of breath. Sweeping the hair out of the boy's face, he wondered where he'd come from and just how long he'd been trapped there.

Grabbing his face, Will slapped his cheeks to try and revive him. "Hey kid, wake up!"

Mark stirred at the sound and the stinging sensation. Slowly he opened his eyes. A face blurrily came into focus, fair skinned, long and lean.

"You all right kid?"

"Pa," Mark tried to say, but he wasn't sure the words even came out. He tried to lift an arm towards the figure but it fell weakly back. He was so cold and started shivering uncontrollably, before lapsing back into the blackness.

Over the next several hours, Mark was only vaguely aware of the events that followed: of being wrapped in a blanket, and later feeling himself being lifted up and over, and onto something hard; of moving again, in rhythmic fashion, but his arms and legs felt strangely heavy as if tied down.

Later, someone was stripping him and he was being roughly dried down until prickles of pain shot through his body making him moan with the discomfort. Then he was being covered up in something dry and warm. Liquid was forced down his throat. It burned like fire, and Mark coughed and sputtered in protest before he finally drifted off into a deep sleep.

The glare of early morning sunlight filtering through the branches of a tall tree woke Mark from his hard slumber. He was laying flat on his back looking up at the clear sky through a canopy of leaves fluttering in a gentle breeze having no idea where he was or how he'd gotten there.

At last he raised himself up on elbows, groaning as his aching muscles protested. Looking around he realized he was alone in a clearing, boxed in on three sides by several large moss covered boulders. Turning his head, he saw the remains of a cooling campfire set up a few feet away.

A blanket draped across his chest slipped away and Mark noticed he was wearing a shirt several sizes too big for him. He fingered the material in confusion.

Nervously Mark brushed his bangs aside, his brown eyes wide and searching. It was several minutes before recollection started returning and he shivered uncontrollably as he fell weakly back to the ground. The river! He remembered falling into the water and being swept away from his father, of trying to fight the current and stay afloat. But everything else was fuzzy and detached like a dream he couldn't quite remember.

It was then Mark heard footsteps. Rolling onto one elbow, he turned his head towards the approaching sound. "Pa?" he called out in a croaked whisper. His throat was raw and his lips felt dry and chapped.

But it wasn't Lucas McCain that rounded the bend of rocks but a stranger, a young man perhaps four or five years older than Mark, a six-piece hung loosely at his side. The stranger was carrying a load of kindling in his arms and stopped short, a little surprised, when he saw Mark was awake.

Sensing Mark's uncertainty he proceeded slowly over to the campfire pit and set the wood on the ground. "So you finally decided to wake up I see."

Mark remained silent for a moment then shifted nervously into a sitting position. In a cracked voice, he finally blurted out, "Where's my Pa?"

Picking up a canteen the stranger came over and squatted down on his heels before Mark with elbows resting lightly on his knees. Looking intently, he replied, "That's what I'd like to know kid."

He offered the canteen, encouraging Mark to take a drink. Suddenly aware of how thirsty he was, Mark took a large gulp and coughed.

"Easy! Not too fast."

This time he drank more slowly, then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand before handing the canteen back to the stranger. "Thanks," Mark said hesitantly.

As the stranger recapped the canteen, he asked, "So what's your name?"

"Mark…Mark McCain."

"I'm Will."

Mark looked around unable to see much beyond the clearing due to the boulders and scrub brush. Puzzled, he asked, "How'd I get here?"

Will walked back over to the campfire. He knelt down and re-stoked the cooled embers with a stick then proceeded to add some fresh branches to renew the flames. "Fished you out of the river last night. You'd have been dead for sure by morning if I hadn't spotted you." Then added glancing over his shoulder, "Mind telling me how you got there in the first place kid?"

For a few seconds Mark just stared blankly back not quite sure where to begin. Then slowly he relayed his story. When he finally finished he noticed the deep frown on Will's face.

"Who was shooting at you?"

Mark shrugged. "I don't know. Everything happened so fast. All I remember is the bullet hitting the water next to Marshal Torrance, and Pa yelling at me to take cover. Next thing I knew I was in the water."

"Marshal!" Will said sharply, his head snapping up as if startled.

Mark looked at him strangely. "Yes."

"What were you doing traveling with a Marshal?"

He nervously continued, "Nothing, I mean we were just riding back home to North Fork, that's were I live. Micah, I mean Marshal Torrance and my Pa are good friends."

A thick silence followed as Will seemed to be taking in the information. Without another word he went and retrieved a can of beans from his saddle bags. Opening it up with a knife, he set the can on the embers to warm. While he went about his task, Will appeared tense and deep in thought.

"Is something wrong?" Mark ventured after several minutes of silence.

Mark's voice seemed to startle him momentarily. He shook his head then got up abruptly and left the campsite. A few minutes later he returned carrying Mark's clothes.

"Here, you can put these back on, they're dry now," he said tossing the buddle to him. "Your jacket's still damp, though."

After a brief awkward moment, he left Mark alone again to change. As he was putting on his shirt, Mark noticed one of the buttons was missing. Since there was nothing he could do about it, he quickly finished dressing. The morning air was still cold so Mark wrapped the blanket back around his shoulders and waited patiently for Will to return.

He came back a few minutes later, still appearing distracted by something. After several minutes of awkward silence, Mark ventured softly, "Will?'

"Yeah."

"Are we still near the river?"

He shook is head. "Couple miles away."

Mark was taken aback, and then blurted, "But, I need to get back!"

Will turned and stared down at this scrap of a boy and something about his behavior made Mark feel uneasy again. "Sorry, but that's not going to be possible just yet," he said in a flat tone.

Mark jumped to his feet in protest. "But my Pa! He'll be looking for me!"

Suddenly, there was a strange ringing in his ears and everything started spinning about. Mark let out a moan and felt himself falling.

Will reached over to steady him. "Hey, easy kid!"

He was helped down to the ground and his head was forced between his knees. It took several seconds for the ringing to clear as Mark sat holding his head. He felt shaky and weak and his stomach was doing strange flip flops. Finally he raised his head slowly.

Seeing Mark's pale face, Will got up and returned a few seconds later pressing some food in his hand.

"Here, you better get something in your belly," he said softly.

But Mark shook his head. "I'm not hungry."

Will insisted. "You should eat a little something to get your strength back up."

Reluctantly he took the food, but after only one bit his stomach suddenly heaved and to Mark's embarrassment he started retching uncontrollably. Will held him as Mark threw up a large amount of river water. His whole body shook with spasms and it was several minutes before the nauseating sensation subsided leaving him spent.

Will laid him back down and tucked the blanket back around him. Mark huddled miserably his eyes closed. "Please, I need to find my Pa."

Concern washed over Will. Gently he placed a hand on Mark's shoulder. "Look, there's a couple of things I gotta figure out first, and you're still a pretty shaky. Why don't you try to rest a little while more, then we'll talk, okay?"

Mark, feeling too weak at the moment to do otherwise, reluctantly nodded. He pulled the blanket tightly around him shivering. He was so very tired and it was becoming harder to think. Before Mark knew it, sleep had overtaken him.

Will stayed by his side until he was sure the boy was fast asleep and in no danger of vomiting again then left the camp for a short time to scout around. Re-assured that everything was quiet, he returned to find Mark still asleep. With little else to do at the moment, Will settled back down and took out a pocket knife and a piece of wood and absently started whittling. The boy's story had left him uneasy.