Chapter 4
If Reuben never stepped foot in an airplane again, it would be too soon. At least that was his second thought after waking up, still strapped in his seat, hanging upside down in the cockpit.
The first had something to do with the fact that he was alive amidst a tangle of sheered metal. The air reeked of oil, hydraulic fluid hissed out of broken hoses, the avionics panel sizzled with sparks.
They needed to get out of the plane before it went up in flames.
Except, no, they’d crashed because they’d run out of fuel.
And just because his father had pulled him from a flaming airplane once didn’t mean that rescue would happen again.
Again. What kind of rotten luck was it for a guy to crash-land in an airplane twice in his life?
His head throbbed. He reached up and touched his forehead. It came back wet and slick.
His helmet had flown off in the crash—he must have forgotten to click his chin strap. He’d been too busy trying to figure out how to help Gilly.
He applied pressure to his wound and fought for his bearings.
The plane had landed not just upside down but with the nose up. He looked straight out at the creek bed some ten feet below.
“Gilly?” He looked for her, but her seat was empty, the buckle undone.
“I’m out here.”
He strained to follow her voice and spotted her through a massive tear in the hull behind him. Sitting on one side of the aircraft, the seats running parallel to the hull, Jed and Kate had stayed buckled in. But the impact had knocked CJ, sitting in the opposite seats, through the gaping tear of the plane.
Reuben didn’t see Hannah or Cliff.
He unbuckled, bracing himself on the ceiling, let himself fall, and crawled back to Kate, who was working her buckle, her hands shaking.
The gear had mostly been thrown from the plane, but dislodged seats lay crumbled, tumbled on top of each other, equipment spilled—Pulaskis, the saws—and parachute gear tangled through the opening.
“Shh, I got ya,” Reuben said to Kate. “Your buckle is caught on your jumpsuit.” He was shaking too, deep inside, maybe from relief, but he caught her in one arm, held her up, and with the other hand, released the buckle.
She fell into his embrace with a gasp.
“How badly are you hurt?”
She rolled over to her knees, shook her head. She’d been wearing her helmet, good girl, and now worked it off. “I’m fine.”
But next to her, Jed hung, his arms dangling, blood running down one arm, pooling.
“Jed—”
“Let’s get him down,” Reuben said, his voice steady.
Outside, he could hear wailing—maybe some wildlife creature. He braced Jed in his arms as Kate unbuckled him, and Jed fell into the cradle of Reuben’s embrace. Kate grabbed Jed’s legs and she and Reuben maneuvered him out of the body of the plane.
Reuben was about to set Jed on the ground when Kate stopped him. “He’s got a piece of metal sticking out right below his ribs. It might have hit a kidney. Lay him on his side.”
He set Jed down while Kate surveyed the damage—took his pulse, checked his breathing. Jed wasn’t moving, his pallor dusky, and the sight of him shook Reuben.
Jed, the one who knew how to stay alive—and keep them alive.
Kate took a deep breath, started to probe around the wounds. “It went deep and sharp for it to saturate his jumpsuit.”
“We should take off the suit,” he said.
“No. He’ll go into shock if we don’t keep him warm. We’ll try and stop the bleeding. Do you have a knife?”
Reuben reached into his pant leg, found his camp knife there, and handed it to Kate. “I’ll check the others.”
She nodded as she began to attack the layers of padding, running her arm over her eyes, taking another deep breath.
If anyone knew how to stay calm in disaster, it was Kate.
He got up, searching for Gilly, Hannah, CJ, and Cliff.
He spotted Hannah sitting at the edge of the forest, her knees drawn up, staring at him. She appeared white, shaken, her lip fattened. “Hannah?”
She didn’t move, and he was about to go to her when—“Rube, I need you!”
He found the voice—Gilly—and she was leaning over CJ. He lay with his arm under him, his legs at odd angles, unconscious. Reuben knelt beside CJ, took his pulse.
Alive. And his breathing seemed okay—but what did he know?
“His arm looks broken, his shoulder might be dislocated. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a hip fracture along with broken legs. But I’m most worried about his neck—” She pointed to a hematoma on his forehead. “I don’t know how hard he hit, and I’m afraid to move him.”
Gilly looked over at him, and he startled at the expression on her face. She, too, had hit something because she sported her own hematoma. But the set of her jaw, the darkness in her eyes…
She was angry.
“Maybe we can find a piece of airplane to stabilize him—”
“We need help,” she said, rising. Only then did he see her sway, just a little. “I’m going to check on the radio.”
He didn’t want to tell her that the entire avionics board looked destroyed.
Instead, he stood up, watching her take a step, one eye closing in a wince. “Are you okay?” He reached out his hand to steady her.
Gilly pushed it away. “I’m fine. Find Cliff.”
Cliff. But Reuben watched as she picked her way back to the plane, the slightest hesitation on one side.
She was hurt.
But yeah, not as bad as CJ or Jed. Reuben shot a glance at Hannah, who had gotten up now, still just staring at him. “Are you okay?”
Overhead, the sky looked unblemished by their disaster, blue and bright, just the finest cloud of smoke past the ridge of mountains. On either side of their crash site, scrub brush gave way to forest, towering spruce, pine. Along the edges of the creek, downed, stripped trees and massive boulders suggested a once-abundant flow.
Looking back at the plane, Reuben realized they’d fallen on a boulder the size of a Fiat, almost like an albatross landing on its back, the front end propped up, tail section splintered in two.
He guesstimated they’d fallen maybe twenty feet off the side of the dry waterfall into the ravine. Bounced into the shallow pool below, skidded, and landed on the boulder.
A flight overhead should be able to spot them, if Gilly could raise HQ on the radio.
“Cliff?” He raised his voice, heard it echo, but no voice answered. He started for the far edge of the plane, scrambling over rocks, trying not to turn his foot in pockets of rock and debris.
Another glance at Hannah, and this time she was pointing. He followed her gaze.
His heart about stopped.
Cliff had clearly fallen out of the plane mid-tumble, because his body lay cast from the plane half-way down the falls, his bones broken by a bed of jagged granite. Even from here, Reuben couldn’t make out how he might have lived. And as he grew closer, he saw the man’s ribs protruding from his jacket—no smokejumper padding for him.
He worked his way up to Cliff, where he lay on the rocks, a pool of blood under his skull, his eyes still open. “Aw, Cliff, I’m sorry.” Reuben checked Cliff’s pulse, then gently closed his eyes.
He paused, not sure what to do. Then he took off his bandanna and placed it over the man’s face.
He climbed down, shot a look at Hannah, but she’d turned her back to him, pacing now at the edge of the forest.
Reuben spotted Gilly in the plane, seated on the floor, working the radio. His fleeting hope disintegrated when she threw off the headset with an accompanying epitaph of disgust.
Reuben scrambled back to CJ, knelt beside him. He still hadn’t moved, but his breathing seemed steady.
Reuben needed to find a cold pack for CJ’s head. And a blanket—yes. He stumbled back to the plane, feeling strangely woozy, as if—yep, he was going to lose it.
He held it together long enough to get to the edge of the forest, lean against a tree as he lost the muffin from Hot Cakes.
Nice.
He drew a hand across his mouth, though, feeling better, and guessed he might have a concussion.
“Here.”
He turned, found Hannah holding out her water bottle and a bandanna.
He cleaned out his mouth. Then he tied the bandanna around his wound.
He glanced at Hannah.
Hannah was one of the tough ones. Feisty, determined to finish the summer despite already living through a flashover, landing in the hospital with second-degree burns, and now surviving a plane crash. Or maybe not quite so feisty, because her expression seemed close to unraveling. She bit her lip. Swallowed.
“Is he dead?”
Reuben glanced at Cliff, back to Hannah.
“No—I meant CJ.”
Reuben shook his head. “I don’t think so—”
And as if in answer, he heard a yell, something feral, that rent the air.
He whirled around and saw Gilly racing over to CJ, who had woken up and begun to thrash around.
“He’s in pain!” This from Hannah, who stood rooted as Reuben ran to CJ.
Indeed. His face white, CJ clutched his waist with one arm, groaning, breathing hard. He let out another wail.
Gilly gripped his arms, trying to keep him from moving. “What hurts?”
CJ let out a growl, something of a curse in it, and Reuben didn’t blame him. “My shoulder—ah, crap—and my hip—” He tried to move his leg and let out a scream.
And when he looked at Reuben, so much pain in his eyes, Reuben wanted to glance away.
“Just breathe, CJ,” Gilly said.
“It’s hard—I can’t—” He reached up with his good hand, pressed on his chest. “I can’t breathe!”
“You’re hyperventilating,” Gilly said. “I know it hurts. Just breathe with me.” She leaned up, put her hand on his belly. “In through the nose, out through the mouth, breathe from your belly. Slowly.”
“I can’t—”
“Do it,” Reuben said, nothing of a bedside manner in his tone.
CJ’s eyes widened, but he glanced back at Gilly, began to mimic her.
Hannah had come closer, though still standing ten feet away.
Reuben headed back to Jed and Kate.
Jed lay on his side. Kate had gotten his jumpsuit opened up, cut it apart, and wrapped the material around the protruding metal.
“If we remove it, he might bleed out—I just don’t know.” She checked Jed’s pulse again. Then she kissed his cheek, pressed her forehead to his. “Hang in there, we’ll get you some help. Don’t die on me, Jed.”
Then Kate sat down, her hand on Jed’s body, as if assessing his breathing, in and out.
She held up her radio, fished out of her jump pants. “I can’t get hold of anyone—my guess is the mountain is causing interference.”
Reuben took out his radio, confirmed the static reception.
“We’re in trouble here, Rube. Jed’s too hurt to move and CJ—who knows how injured he is. Gilly said something about the radio being out and the transponder down before we crashed… They don’t know we’re down.” Kate looked up at him. “You gotta go for help.”
He took in her words. Yes, of course. He was the least hurt—
“Rube!”
He turned to Gilly’s voice and spied her beckoning him over.
CJ seemed to be calmer, breathing in rhythm now. Gilly got up, walked away from him.
Reuben met her.
And for the first time since the crash, he took a good look at her. A goose egg lifted right above her brow line. She’d scraped her arm—a thin line of blood traced her skin. And she’d ripped her pants, her knee bloody and a little swollen. He guessed that might be why she was limping.
But he saw none of that on her face, her jaw tight, her mouth a bud of frustration.
“CJ’s still in a lot of pain. He might have internal bleeding. How’s Jed?”
“He’s got a piece of metal in his back. Kate’s wrapped something around it to keep it from moving, but...I don’t know.”
“Hannah seems okay—in shock, maybe. And Kate—well, we know Kate.” Gilly’s glance landed on her best friend, and for a second—only a second—weariness flashed across her face. Then she looked back at Reuben. “I saw you found Cliff.”
“Yeah. He’s—”
“I know.” She put her hands on her hips, closed her eyes, her jaw tightening even more. Then she sighed and looked up at him. “I guess I’d better get going.”
“Huh?”
He knew he sounded a little like an oaf, but, “What do you mean?”
“I mean somebody needs to hike out, and since I’m the pilot, that means me.”
“In what world? Listen—yeah, you’re right. Someone needs to hike out. But you’re in no shape—”
“What are you talking about? I’m fine?”
“You’re limping.”
If looks could kill, he’d be a pile of ash in the creek bed floor. “I’m fine. I just banged my knee a little.”
“You’ll never make a hike out. Yaak is thirty miles from here!”
“I can get to the road—it’s probably—”
“About nine miles is my guess. And between here and the road, there’s a river and at least one ridge of mountains, and you’ll never make it on that knee.”
“Watch me!”
He held up his hand. “Stop. Someone needs to stay here and take care of everyone—”
“They have Kate—”
“Kate has her hands full with Jed!”
“How about me?”
The voice jerked him out of the flood of frustration that threatened to drown him. He turned, saw Hannah standing there, nodding.
“I’m fine. I’ll stay. I can monitor CJ and make sure everyone has water—really. I can do this.” She looked at Gilly, back to Reuben. “We’ll be okay until you get back with help.”
Reuben’s mouth tightened. He looked at Gilly. “You sure the radio’s out?”
She gave him a look.
“Okay.” He looked up at the sky, checked his watch. “I’d say we have about eight hours of daylight. If we get moving, we can reach the road in about four or five hours. It’s due east…” He took a second, then pointed. “That way.”
“For crying out loud—how do you know that?”
“The same way I know that I can do this alone. You’re just going to slow me down—”
“I’m going with you, okay? I told everyone I’d get them home safely, and I will.” Then her voice dropped, and she swallowed, her eyes bright. “Especially since it’s my fault.”
“It’s not—”
She held up her hand. Shook her head, her eyes wet.
Her wretched expression silenced him. He knew what it felt like to feel to blame—whether justified or not—and the excruciating need to find a way to fix it.
“Fine. But once we hit the road, I’m headed to the Grover fire lookout, not Yaak. It’s only a few miles from here, and yeah, it’s a climb, but they’ll have radio equipment. If we push hard, we can make it before dark.”
She hesitated only a moment before walking back to the plane. She climbed in, then emerged with one of their equipment packs. He recognized it as his and reached for it, but she slung it around her shoulder.
Ho-kay. He’d just let that ride for a minute or two. It weighed nearly a hundred pounds, so probably she’d let it drop sooner than later.
He retrieved the equipment box, undamaged in the crash, opened it, and found water, MREs, and a first aid kit. He brought the supplies over to Kate. Looked at Hannah. “You sure?”
“I’m sure.” And indeed, she looked better, less white and, despite the fattened lip, her eyes had cleared, brightened with determination. She grabbed a bottle of water from the box and headed back to CJ.
“If we get going now, we can bring help back by tonight,” Gilly said, a hurry up in her voice.
But Reuben hesitated. He couldn’t help but crouch before Kate, take her hands in his, hold them. Meet her eyes.
“We’ll be back. I promise.”
She refused to slow him down.
Still, Gilly couldn’t tell if Reuben was favoring her or if this was simply his normal pace. Because to her mind, they should have reached the river by now. With the sun past the apex—she could at least figure that out—daylight had a countdown not in their favor.
“You can go faster,” she said, catching a tree branch Reuben held for her. “And you don’t have to wait for me—I can keep up.”
He hadn’t said much the first couple of hours. Could be that he was more injured than he let on…or maybe it took all his energy to climb the first ridge and descend. She ached to her core, her knee screaming as they slipped and spilled their way down the ridge. The man seemed to possess an inner Magellan that pointed due east.
Except, maybe he did, or at least understood how the forest worked, because he stopped every once in a while to sniff the air, check the trees, orient himself to the sun. Listen.
Apparently, she’d trekked into the woods with Daniel Boone. Or maybe this was Lewis…which left her as Clark? Or Sacajawea.
Whatever the case, she wasn’t here as a tagalong.
But it had taken all her energy.
A slight frown creased his face as he glanced over his shoulder, catching another tree branch out of his way. “I’m moving as fast as is prudent,” he said. “We don’t want to get off course. Besides, the ground is rutted, and if we turn an ankle or get hurt, that won’t help Jed or CJ.”
He waited until she grabbed the branch then turned back to bushwhacking.
What he left out, of course, was the fact that she’d started limping—even she could admit it—over the last hour. Her knee burned, and she thought it might be swelling.
She didn’t remember hitting the yoke, but anything could have happened during the blinding seconds they’d careened and tumbled through the rocky creek bed and out over the cliff.
It still felt surreal—everything from the tanks sputtering out to the glide into the trees, to crashing, and even CJ and Jed fighting for their lives.
Cliff, dead where he fell.
The deep breathing she’d done to help CJ get out of his hyperventilation hadn’t just been for him. She’d had to gather her bearings, let the truth sink in.
Somehow she’d screwed up. Despite her extensive preflight check, she’d missed something. How could she have left the base with only half-full tanks of fuel?
She’d killed Cliff, put the rest of her team in jeopardy.
Reuben stood on a balding boulder in a tiny clearing and Gilly climbed up to join him. The forest fell around them, with shaggy, thin black spruce, peeling white paper birch, lush cedar and hemlock, and towering high above, black cottonwood. Despite the heat of the day, the forest shade had cooled her skin, now simmering under the eye of the sun.
“The river, according to my memory, should be about a half mile from here. Listen for it,” he said.
“How do you know that?”
Gilly shaded her eyes, searched for the spiral of smoke, and found it to the west, a thin wisp. The air didn’t quite smell like fire yet, heady instead with the redolence of pine, cedar, and the loam of decaying needles.
“I have a photographic memory.”
“Really?”
He pointed to a tiny blip on the horizon to the northeast. “There’s the lookout tower.”
She nodded as if eager, as if her leg didn’t scream in protest. But she refused to be the weak link here.
To admit that Reuben had been right, that she should have stayed behind.
“It’s time for me to carry that,” he said, blindsiding her as he reached for the pack.
“No. I got this.”
But he put his big, strong, tan, capable hand around the strap, his mouth a tight, thin line. “I am sure you do, Gilly, but I’m done arguing with you. I’m carrying this pack—it’s not only what I’m good at, but plainly, it’s my turn. Let me carry it or I’ll just have to carry you.”
Her eyes widened for a second. “Over my dead body.”
“No, I’d carry that, too. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
She wasn’t sure if he might be kidding. But when no smile emerged, she tightened her mouth into a thin line of frustration and released the pack.
He swung it up onto his thick shoulder like it weighed nothing.
She felt like she’d released half her body weight. For a moment she thought she might be able to take flight.
She wanted to when she followed Reuben off the rock, again through the forest, her knee on fire.
And shoot, she couldn’t help the slightest shard of disappointment in herself when she realized she’d hoped to impress him.
Now she was simply dead weight, limping along behind him.
“The answer is, yes. I really do have a photographic memory. It was the only thing that got me through school.”
“So, you can see something—”
“And I memorize it instantly, remember exactly what it looks like. It started in second grade when I couldn’t seem to learn to read. I memorized what the words looked like and simply read from that memory.”
“You didn’t sound the words out?”
“I couldn’t…they wouldn’t stay in one place.” He held a white pine branch out of the way for her. And, for the first time on their trek, met her eyes. “I’m dyslexic.”
She caught the branch. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s no big deal.” He charted them around a grouping of birch and along a bouldered area. “When I looked out the window of the plane, I did a mental calculation of the road to the river and then to the lookout tower—it’s something I do every time we fly. It helps keep my mind off… Well—”
“Your stomach? Motion sickness? That’s why you like to sit in the cockpit.”
He glanced at her. Gave her a one-sided smile. “Actually, not really. This is my second plane crash. The thought of going down literally makes me ill. I have a well-founded fear of flying.”
“Your second crash?”
She used the trees to brace herself as they climbed down a tumble of rocks. And, for a second, caught up to him.
He still wore the bandanna Hannah had given him around his head, his dark hair spiking out from it. The nearly black, dried blood caked the edge, saturated one area. He hadn’t shaved lately—maybe for a few days—and his whiskers lay rich and thick on his chin, dirt and a little blood scrubbed in, maybe from when he’d pulled Jed from the plane.
He didn’t look like a man who would let his fears manhandle him. But then, she’d done a superb job of fleeing her fears for the past decade or more, so…
“I know. Rotten luck, huh? Except last time, it was just me and Dad, out in the cold for a few hours waiting for my brothers to find us.” He turned and for a second acted like he was going to offer her his hand as she climbed up a rather large boulder, then thought again.
But he watched, as if a sentry, as she scrabbled up, hoisting herself onto the boulder, then scooting up behind him the rest of the way.
See. She was just fine, thank you.
“Where did you crash?” They stood on another overlook, and yes, in the air, she smelled water, although she heard nothing of the rushing she’d expect with a river.
He pointed—indicating she should keep moving—down into the dark forest, and she headed toward it, down the rock, sliding on her backside.
Her knee burned, and water edged her eyes. She landed on her good leg, bracing herself on boulders, then started down the trail ahead of him.
He said nothing, and she couldn’t tell if he was debating intervention, or the answer to her question. Then, “We crashed on the ranch, in one of the far pastures. We were flying low, counting cattle, and we got caught in the crosswind of an approaching blizzard. We tried to land, and I did a ground loop.”
“I nearly did that once—my wing caught the ground and spun the plane.”
“In my case, it cartwheeled.”
The way he said it… “Rube, were you the one flying the plane?”
Silence and she glanced back at him. He walked, head down, thumbs hooked into the strap of his utility bag.
“Wow. Was anyone hurt?”
“I broke both my legs.”
“Oh no.”
“Yeah. I was in a cast to my waist for about six months. Missed my senior prom, didn’t graduate with my class. Didn’t play college football.”
He was so matter of fact about it, no emotion, but she had this strange urge to stop, to maybe put her arms around him.
Except that would be as awkward as their little trip on the dance floor.
She still hadn’t quite figured out how to get past that.
“So, if you’re so afraid of flying, why are you a smokejumper?”
“Because fear’s not going to win. I love being a smokejumper and yeah, I’m not keen on flying, but I so rarely crash…”
She looked back at him again, and he was grinning.
And her heart did this strange little flip in her chest. Her entire body turned warm.
Juliet’s words thrummed in her mind. That’s a hot cake if I’ve ever seen one.
She looked away, nearly stumbled, caught herself on a tree.
“Okay, really—how bad is your knee?”
Shoot. She righted herself, kept walking. Up ahead, the forest seemed to clear out, and now she could hear water. “Not bad,” she snapped. “I’ll be fine.”
So much for their little spark—her tone put them back where they should be. Two teammates trying to find help.
Reuben said nothing for too long as they walked, and his silence drove into her, settled into her bones.
Maybe she should have tempered her tone.
Juliet was right—she should stop trying so hard to prove herself.
Gilly pushed through a knot of bushy pines and stopped, Reuben nearly banging into her. She stood on the edge of a gorge, a drop of sixty or so feet into a gently running river.
“Pete Creek, if I remember my map,” he said, looking down.
She had a feeling he did.
What he’d left out was the fact that they’d have to rappel.
“So, now what?” she asked, already scrutinizing the cliff. As she looked over the edge, her hands began to sweat.
“We’ll have to climb down,” Reuben said.
Oh no.
She rubbed her sweaty palms on her pants. She could do this. Really.
“My letdown rope and descender are in my bag,” he said. “You go first, and I’ll belay you.”
“You don’t have to belay me.” Her voice contained more confidence than it should.
“It’s a far drop.”
She glanced up at him and affected a frown, ignoring the silent scream of terror inside. “I can descend without help, Rube.”
He raised a hand. “Down, girl. I’m just...are you a rock climber?”
And there it was—the noose that she’d stuck her head into. She shook her head. “I...I trained to be a smokejumper.”
He just blinked at her.
“A few years ago—about a year after Kate spent the summer in Alaska. I was a hotshot and wanted more.” She shrugged. “It didn’t work out.”
Understatement of the decade, but he didn’t have to know the details.
Like her irrational, insane fear of heights.
A fear that didn’t seem to touch her behind the controls of a plane. But get her in a parachute, about to jump out… Or on a sixty-foot ledge.
For the team. She could do this. Would do this.
She reached for the rope he’d pulled out of his bag. “I’ll find a tree.
His hand on hers stopped her. “I didn’t know you wanted to be a smokejumper,” he said quietly.
“Yeah, well, it’s not—”
“Easy. If I hadn’t just seen you do it, I wouldn’t have imagined someone your size could pass the requisite 90 minute, 110-pound pack test. That’s tough.”
She glanced at him. “I made it through the pack test just fine. It just...wasn’t for me.”
Her throat burned with the lie, and she turned away, hating that she’d nearly let him see—well, too much.
She rooted through the gear bag, found webbing, and secured it around a nearby, sturdy cottonwood. Then she connected the carabiner and fitted the rope through it.
He came over to her. “Throw down enough line to hit the bottom. I’ll set up a retrievable system.”
She threaded out enough line to touch the river, then handed him the slack. He clipped it into the carabiner and set up the belay system so they could retrieve their rope once they reached the bottom.
He tucked the rope slack into the letdown bag. “We’ll throw this down, and when we reach the bottom, we’ll simply tug on it and the knot will release.”
“Nifty,” she said, still eyeing the drop. She wiped her palms on her pants again.
Reuben made a loop, fitted the descender into it, tested the tension.
Then he handed her the harness. “You go first.”
“No.” She shook her head, trying to keep her voice cool. “I got this. You go first.”
He frowned but seemed to consider it. “Okay, maybe that’s best. Then I can catch you should—”
“You will not catch me! I can rappel just fine.”
She might have put too much oomph into her words, because he recoiled, tilted his head as if surprised.
“Ho-kay.” He climbed into his jump harness and clipped himself into the rope. Re-shouldered the pack and walked to the edge of the cliff. “Are you sure you shouldn’t go first?”
“Just go.”
He made a face and put on his gloves. He backed out and leaned over the edge, letting his feet find position.
Then he looked up and met her eyes.
Smiled.
It was the smile that drew her to the edge of the cliff to watch him descend.
As if he might be a billy goat, born to scale the rocks. He flew down the rope, letting it slide through his braking hand, barely slowing until he hit the river.
He stepped into water up to his shins.
She’d always known Reuben was a strong man, the kind who knew his way around the wilderness. Seeing it in action stirred up a new feeling.
They just might make it out, save the rest of their crew.
If she could get over the edge and down the cliff.
He unstrapped his harness, stepped out of it, took off his gloves, and shoved them into the elastic straps on the harness. Then he knotted the rope around the figure eight rappeller, gave the rope a tug, and let it go. Gilly brought it up hand over hand.
He was a big man—when she stepped into the harness, it could wrap around her twice. She had to cinch down the legs and waist almost to nothing to make it fit. But she removed the slack from the rope, donned the gloves, and then reached for the excess rope.
“Coming down!”
She threw the pouch containing the excess rope over the side, watching to make sure it landed. He caught it, but let it dangle.
If he pulled on the rope in the pouch, the knot would give, releasing the tension, and she’d plummet to the bottom.
She swallowed down the swirl in her gut—
“Just take it nice and slow. One step at a time!”
Gilly wanted to ignore him, to shout down that she could handle this, but the words glued inside.
Don’t look down. She remembered her training—those first few days in the letdown area, learning how to get out of a tree. Kate was such a master, she’d taught that part of the course this summer when she took over the new recruits.
Maybe Gilly could have done with a refresher. She leaned back, her hands slick inside the gloves, trying not to let her stomach rebel. She let the rope hold her, her entire weight sinking into the harness, burning her legs, her waist, with the pull. She shuffled her feet down the side of the cliff, her backside out.
Reuben had made it look so easy.
Her feet scraped against the rock, one foothold slipping.
“Just go slow—”
“I am going slow!”
“Fine. Well, if you fall, I’ll catch you.”
He wasn’t serious, was he? Because the last thing—
Her feet slipped again, and pebbles washed down the face of the cliff.
“Rock!”
“Thanks for that,” he said.
And now she was sweating. Rivulets of heat ran down her back, her arms shook with the strain of holding herself, and her knee decided to stop working. To top it off, her braking hand was shoved up too tight behind her, almost in a submissive position.
“I’m coming up to get you—”
“Stay where you are! I’m fine!”
“Pull yourself up with your guide hand, just a little. It will release your brake— Whoa!”
She’d been following his instructions and suddenly her brake hand gave way, and she slid down the cliff face, falling forwards, slamming her face against the rock.
She bounced off and put up her knees as she fell another five feet. Her brake hand lodged at her waist, barely holding her, wrenched and burning.
Her knees dug into the side of the rock, the jagged granite tearing through her pants.
She could admit it—maybe she should have let him belay her.
Don’t scream. Because then, yeah, Reuben would probably start climbing up the forty-some feet...
She tried to breathe as she glanced below, but her lungs were closing up—
“Gilly! Listen to me!”
Reuben stood below her, his arms out as if he really might try and catch her, his feet braced, his expression calm. But his eyes held just enough worry to betray him.
“There are a couple of footholds just below you. Put your feet down, get yourself settled.”
His low voice held no edge of panic, and she leaned into it, taking long, even breaths as she lowered one foot, found the ledge, then the other. She let her weight settle on her feet.
“Now, steady yourself with your guide hand and move your brake hand down.”
He waited as she moved her right hand down.
“Tuck it just below your hip, but don’t get your hand too far back.”
Like before? But she listened and repositioned.
“Now, let out slack, slowly, and lean back. Remember, use your hip as a brake, a lever.”
She let out rope, leaned back, and found herself resting again on the harness.
“Let it out slowly. Walk down the face of the cliff.”
One foot, then another. She began to descend, her heart in her throat.
Don’t look down.
Her foot slipped again, but she caught herself and for a second dangled free of the rock—
“Lean back, not forward!”
But she was too far back and—
Her guide hand broke free, almost on reflex, to grab something—anything. It found purchase again on the rope, and she yanked hard to right herself.
“No, Gilly, not that one!”
And then she was falling.
Her scream rent the air, her arms flailing as the entire rappelling assembly released.
No—no—!
She hit hard, something—not rock but an unyielding force that grabbed her, pulled her in, cushioned her as he fell back into the water with a cold, shocking splash.
And heaven help her, for a second she simply curled into Reuben, holding on, breathing hard.
“Gotcha,” he said softly.