CHAPTER 5

As the sun continued its climb in the morning sky, inching ever closer to its apex, Beau could feel the warmth of its rays on his back. After nearly nine days in the saddle, he had managed to work all the stiffness out of his muscles.

Slowly he walked the close-coupled roan nearer to the milling knot of steers. The minute he spotted the unmarked yearling bull that had eluded last fall’s roundup, he swung the roan into the herd, intent on separating the yearling from the rest.

As if knowing it was destined to be branded, tagged, and relieved of its cojones, the young Hereford bull made a dash for a clump of nearby mesquite. The cow-savvy roan seemed to anticipate the escape attempt, simultaneously lunging forward to block its path.

After that, Beau had only to sit easy in the saddle and let the well-trained cow pony do his job. With catlike agility, the roan gelding cut off the yearling’s dash to freedom and turned it back toward the herd. The young bull made a show of returning, then attempted another break. The roan thwarted it with ease.

Spider Jones, one of Rimrock’s younger cowhands, joined up with Beau and together they herded the animal to the chutes. Once the gate clanged shut behind it, Beau leaned forward in the saddle to stroke the roan’s damp neck, offering low praise. “If that had been a cutting contest, you would have won us some money.”

Spider Jones swung his horse alongside Beau. Together they jogged their horses back to the gather. “Nice work. But that’s what I like about working for Rimrock. You’ve got good horses here.”

“That we do,” Beau agreed, well aware that the bulk of the credit for them belonged to Sky and his skill in training.

“I was wondering . . . ,” Spider began, then hesitated and started over, his uncertain blue eyes darting a glance at Beau. “We’ve probably got only a few more days of roundup before we’re finished. Me and a couple of the other boys plan on going into Lubbock to celebrate. There’s a club there that has a room upstairs where a fella can go to get that manly itch scratched . . . if you know what I mean. You’re welcome to join us. If you like,” he added, suddenly uneasy, as if he was worried that, by inviting one of the new owners, he had violated some unwritten rule.

“Sounds like the go-to place for a good time.” Beau deliberately let the young cowboy believe he might accompany them. But as far as he was concerned, there was only one woman he wanted to scratch his itch, and she wasn’t in Lubbock.

Although on second thought, Beau realized that the wisest course might be to go to Lubbock. Natalie was a married woman, and it was best if he kept his distance.

“You got that righ—How the hell did he get his rope tangled up like that?” Disgust and amazement mingled together in his voice. Following the direction of Spider’s gaze, Beau saw Lute, his rope partially around his body and a half loop around his horse’s nose. “For somebody who’s supposed to be related to Sky, he sure is worthless around cattle,” the young cowboy declared. “Somebody needs to take that rope away from him and put a shovel back in his hand.”

“Heads-up, Beau! Two o’clock!” Will’s voice barked across the distance, directing Beau’s attention to the cow and calf just breaking free of the gather.

Beau reined after them. In two jumps, the roan was at full stride. After a half dozen more, he was level with the escaping pair. The cow swung away from him and meekly trotted back to the herd, her calf trailing and bawling in confusion.

Checking the roan to a walk, Beau lifted his free hand to signal Will that the runaways were back in the fold. But Will wasn’t where he had last seen him. He was galloping his tall bay toward a half dozen steers, bunched on the far side of a clearing. Intent on the strays, he didn’t seem to notice that he was headed straight into a prairie dog colony. Hated by ranchers, the little rodents dug burrows that could trap and break the leg of a horse or cow.

Beau shouted a warning. Seeing the danger, Will wheeled his mount hard to the left. For a split second everything seemed fine. Then, suddenly, it wasn’t.

The horse shied, shrieked, and shot straight up, twisting in midair like a rodeo bronc. In a scene that took on the slow-motion quality of a nightmare, Will flew out of the saddle. One foot caught the stirrup, then slid free of the boot as he slammed to the ground, landing flat on his back. Unharmed, the terrified bay plunged through the brush, gaining distance with every bound.

By now Beau was close enough to leap off his mount and race toward his brother. Will appeared dazed but he was moving, raising his head and shifting his legs.

A dozen strides away, Beau heard Will utter a sharp grunt of pain. Twisting sideways on the ground, Will yanked out his holstered pistol and fired three low shots at something unseen on the far side of his legs. Bits of pink and gray exploded into the air.

An instant later, Beau reached Will’s side. There in the dust, inches from Will’s leg, lay the bullet-riddled carcass of a diamondback rattlesnake, six feet long and as thick as a man’s forearm.

Will’s face was tinged with gray. He slumped back onto one elbow. “Bastard got me, Beau,” he muttered, pointing to his thigh. “But I got him back.”

Kicking the dead snake out of the way, Beau crouched next to his brother, his heart pounding and a sick knot forming in his stomach.

He threw a shout over his shoulder for help, yanked out his pocketknife, opened it, and slashed the denim away from Will’s leg. The flesh was already swelling around the two deep red puncture wounds. Beau knew a rattler that size could inject a hefty dose of venom. More than enough to kill a man without prompt treatment.

“Bad, is it?” Will cursed through clenched teeth.

“Bad enough. Don’t try to talk. Just lie still.”

Whipping off his bandana, he knotted it around Will’s thigh a few inches above the wound. It would need to be loosened every few minutes. A too-tight tourniquet could shut off the blood flow into the leg, doing more harm than good. And the old practice of cutting the flesh and sucking out the venom had also proven to be ineffective. The best course of action was to keep Will quiet and get him to a hospital; it was the only way to save Will’s leg, and maybe his life.

Sky was the first to reach them. His cool blue eyes quickly took in the situation. He tossed Beau the canteen from his saddle. “Pour this on the bite. The nearest hospital’s in Lubbock. I’ll call for Life Flight.” He whipped out his cell phone and punched in 911.

Beau helped Will sit up to keep his heart above his leg and slow the rise of the venom. Knowing the leg would swell, he cut off the rest of the pant leg and removed the sock. Will had lost the boot when the horse bucked him off.

“Somebody better catch that damned horse.” Will’s jaw was clenched. He had to be in excruciating pain, but he was playing the tough guy, determined not to show it.

“The horse will be fine.” Beau used the water in Sky’s canteen to flush the wound. “Right now all that matters is getting you to the hospital.”

Sky was still on the phone, speaking, then waiting and speaking again, his voice a low staccato.

“Make sure they have antivenin,” Beau said. “He’s going to need it.”

Sky asked a few more questions, ended the call, and shook his head. “A helicopter can be here in twenty minutes. But they’re out of antivenin. A new shipment’s coming in tomorrow.”

Beau swore. The antidote for rattlesnake venom was most effective if given intravenously within the first couple of hours. Tomorrow could be too late. For all he knew, Will could be dead by then. “Try Amarillo,” he said. “They’ve got to have some.”

Sky frowned. “Wait . . . Natalie should have antivenin. She keeps a supply for dogs.”

“Call her,” Beau said.

While Sky speed-dialed Natalie’s number, Beau busied himself with adjusting the bandana around Will’s thigh. The whole leg had begun to swell. Will purpled the air with curses as Beau retied the cloth. “Bad?” he asked needlessly.

“Hurts like bloody hell.” Will spat in the direction of the dead reptile. “And the timing sucks. Who’s going to boss the roundup?”

“The men know their jobs. And Sky can manage things fine.” Beau glanced upward. “The helicopter should be here soon. Just be quiet and take it easy.”

“I could use a swallow of whiskey.”

“Not a good idea, brother.”

Sky had ended the call. “Natalie’s got antivenin. It will be fastest if she drives to Lubbock; she should get there about the same time the copter lands.”

An eternity seemed to pass before they heard the drone of the red and white Life Flight helicopter. Refusing to stay quiet, Will had spent the interim giving Sky a running litany of muttered instructions, things Sky doubtless already knew. Even in his dire condition, Will couldn’t let go of his duties.

By the time the paramedics loaded him in the helicopter, Will’s pulse was racing at a gallop. Beau insisted on riding along. Though it wasn’t usual policy, the paramedics didn’t argue. Will was a powerful man and not in his right mind. If he got hard to handle in the air, they might need help calming him.

Beau clasped his brother’s hand while the technician inserted an IV with a saline drip in his arm. Will was mumbling now, demanding that he be taken back to the ranch—a sign that the venom was already seeping into his system.

Although the flight to the hospital was a relatively short one, each minute in the air seemed three times as long. As the helicopter began its descent to the hospital’s landing pad, Beau clasped Will’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Hang in there, big brother,” he ordered. “Everything’s going to be fine now.”

Will looked directly at him and said something back, but the roar of the engine drowned out the sound of his voice. Even so, Beau was able to ascertain the words his lips shaped.

Call Tori, Will had said.

Beau answered with a nod of promise.

As soon as the helicopter touched down, the engine was cut back, and the paramedics scrambled to unload their patient onto a waiting gurney. Will was already being whisked inside by the time Beau climbed out of the chopper.

Once inside the emergency department, Beau had a brief glimpse of Will on the gurney before the set of double doors to the trauma unit slid shut behind him. One of the paramedics motioned for Beau to join him at the admissions desk.

“They need some information on your brother.”

Reluctantly Beau allowed himself to be sidetracked from following Will into the trauma unit. Other than the absolute basics of name, age, blood type, address, and next of kin, there was scant information that Beau could provide. Any allergies or medications Will might be taking, Beau had to admit he didn’t know.

After that was finished, someone else handed him a bag of his brother’s personal items—his watch, wallet, and cell phone—and pointed him toward the emergency department’s waiting room.

It was a small area, mostly unoccupied at that hour, with soothing blue walls, black vinyl couches, and framed prints of Texas wildflowers. Timeworn copies of People magazine, Golf Digest, and Good Housekeeping littered the tables. A frayed-looking woman was knitting what appeared to be an orange muffler while an unshaven man was sprawled on one of the side couches, lightly snoring.

Unwilling to twiddle his thumbs on one of the couches, Beau went to find out whether the antivenin had arrived. But no one either could or would tell him.

Again he bypassed the waiting area and walked out the emergency entrance to scan the parking lot, but there was no sign of Natalie’s white SUV. He glanced at his watch and knew she had to be close. He wouldn’t allow himself to consider that something might have happened en route to delay her.

To keep any thoughts blocked, he retrieved Will’s cell phone from the bag and used the number in his brother’s contact list to call Tori. Her phone rang once, then twice more before her voice mail came on. He left a message that omitted most of the worrisome details and asked her to call him. Not sure when Tori might check it, Beau decided to try her again in a few minutes. In the meantime, he phoned the ranch house and talked to Bernice. Again, he soft-pedaled Will’s condition.

“You will let us know the minute you hear anything, won’t you?” the anxious housekeeper urged as a siren’s wail grew steadily louder, indicating the approach of an emergency vehicle.

“I promise. Tell Jasper not to worry. Will’s in good hands.”

A patrol car, its siren screaming, came speeding into view and swung into the driveway to the emergency entrance. There was abrupt silence as the siren was killed. But it was the white SUV directly behind that claimed the whole of Beau’s attention.

The white Land Cruiser screeched into a parking stall next to the emergency entrance. The door flew open and Natalie spilled out of the driver’s seat, one hand clutching a small medical cooler. Dressed in jeans and a wrinkled khaki work shirt, she was disheveled and windblown, her face bare of makeup.

And she had never looked more beautiful, for a multitude of reasons, none of which was necessarily related to the other.

Her head came up the instant she saw him, her back straightened, and Beau had the impression she was erecting mental barriers against him.

“Thank God you made it without being pulled over,” Beau said, relieved the two-hour window wouldn’t be pushed to the limit.

“I probably would have if I hadn’t had an escort,” Natalie told him, directing a side glance to his right.

Until that moment, Beau had totally forgotten the police cruiser that had pulled into the emergency driveway ahead of her. He turned as Hoyt Axelrod came walking up, sunlight flashing on the sheriff ’s badge pinned to his crisp uniform.

“Sheriff.” Beau wasn’t sure whom he’d expected to see, but it wasn’t Axelrod

“Talk about being in the right place at the right time. I had stopped by the call center when they got the word that Will had been snakebit. Few minutes later we heard that Natalie was making a mercy run to bring her supply of antivenin.” He absently shifted the holstered pistol to a more comfortable position. “I figured she could make the drive quicker, with fewer incidents, if she had an official escort.” A dark eyebrow shot up. “Can you imagine a hospital in Texas running out of such a thing? ’Course, it is spring, and the rattlers are coming out of their dens all cranky and hungry.”

“How’s Will?” Natalie inserted.

“Not good,” Beau admitted.

Immediately she struck out for the automatic door to the ER. “I brought six vials. It was all I had.” She tossed the information over her shoulder as the door opened ahead of her.

Beau followed her inside while the sheriff trailed both of them. In short order, they located a nurse. Natalie passed the cooler to her and dug a folded piece of paper from her pocket.

“I’ll need someone to sign this, accepting the transfer of the vials,” she told the nurse.

“I’ll get it signed and bring it right back to you,” the nurse promised after a brief scan of the unfolded paper.

“I’d like to see my brother,” Beau said.

“Not yet.” The nurse smiled her regret. “When we have him stabilized, somebody will come and get you.”

It wasn’t exactly the answer he wanted, but grudgingly Beau accepted it, holding his silence when the nurse walked away.

“He’s going to be fine now, Beau,” Natalie assured him.

“Thanks to you.” He glanced at the woman standing at his side and experienced a prick of conscience. “Sorry, I should have said that sooner. Heaven knows you didn’t have to volunteer to bring it to the hospital.”

“Will is my friend,” she said with quick emphasis. “You do things like this for friends.”

On the surface she seemed to be using friendship to justify her actions. But Beau had the impression she was using it to keep him at a distance.

“You’re right, of course,” he agreed, and smiled to himself, certain there had never been anything remotely platonic about their feelings toward each other in the past. And that was still true today, no matter how much she might try to convince herself to the contrary.

“Hey, you two!” the sheriff called to them from a small alcove outside the waiting room. “I just brewed some fresh coffee. Want a cup?^”

“I could definitely use a cup.” Natalie was quick to accept the offer as she turned from Beau and started across the space to the alcove.

“Make that two cups.”

After passing a Styrofoam cup of steaming coffee to Natalie, Hoyt Axelrod filled one for Beau. “I heard you hadn’t taken the flight back to D.C. like you planned.” He handed him the second cup and picked up his own.

“Will was short-handed and faced with spring roundup. Since I was entitled to two weeks’ bereavement, I decided to take it and help him out.”

“Turned out to be a good thing you did or you wouldn’t have been on hand when he got snakebit.” Axelrod hooked a thumb over his belt and leaned a husky shoulder against the wall.

“I guess you’re right.” Beau blew on the coffee’s steaming surface and inhaled its rich aroma.

“Have you talked to Tori?” Natalie inserted.

“I called, but it went straight to voice mail. I left word for her to call me as soon as she got my message. So far, nothing.”

“I keep thinking about Erin, how upset she’ll be and worried about her dad,” Natalie murmured.

Beau started to pull out his cell phone to try Tori again, but stopped when he saw the doctor, a sturdy, balding man in green scrubs, pushing his way through the swinging doors. He walked straight to them.

“Here’s your receipt, Dr. Haskell.” He handed a sheet to Natalie, showing the respect of one professional to another before turning to Beau.

“How’s my brother?”

“We’ve got him on the antivenin, as well as some fluids and Dilaudid for the pain. There’s no reason he shouldn’t make a full recovery, but it won’t happen overnight. He’ll need to be here several days, then rest at home until the swelling goes down. That could take as long as a month.”

Relief sagged through Beau, even as he recognized that Will was in for a miserable time. And he would be hell to live with until he was back on his feet.

“Is he awake?” Beau asked. “Can I see him now?”

“He’s groggy, mostly because of the pain meds. But he’s alert enough to know what’s going on. You can see him, but no more than a minute or two,” the doctor warned. “He needs to rest and let the antivenin do its work.”

Stepping into the alcove, Beau set his cup of coffee on the counter. Natalie laid a delaying hand on his arm when he started past her. “Let Will know we’re all thinking of him,” she said.

“Will do,” Beau promised, then sensed there was something she wasn’t saying. “Are you leaving?”

“That new registered bull the Caulfields bought last week is running a fever. I got a call when I was halfway here,” she explained. “They’re keeping him isolated until I can get there and check him out.”

Some inner sense alerted Beau to the close way Hoyt Axelrod was observing the two of them. As jealous as Natalie’s husband seemed to be, Beau knew he needed to be circumspect and not add any fuel to the gossip mill.

“I know I’ve said thanks, but I mean it.”

“I know.” Her smile was stiff as if she, too, was aware of the sheriff ’s presence.

Turning, Beau followed the doctor into the ICU and down the row of small, white cubicles. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of his brother, propped in a narrow bed with an IV and catheter tubes, oxygen lines, and beeping monitors connected to his body. His face was a stranger’s, flushed and puffy. His bitten leg, swollen like a log, was covered with a sheet.

“You look like hell,” Beau said, knowing that Will wouldn’t want to be pitied or fussed over.

Will’s purpled lips stretched in a grimace. “A damn sight better’n you did that time you bashed in a hornet’s nest. Come here.”

Beau leaned over the bed, hiding the rush of emotion he didn’t want Will to see.

“Go home now.” Will’s voice was hoarse, his speech slurred. “You can’t do a blasted thing for me here, but I need you at the ranch to see that things get looked after. Understand?”

“I do. But Sky’s more competent to run the ranch than I am. He’ll manage things fine.”

“Sky’s good at his job, but he isn’t a Tyler. It’s you I want runnin’ the place till I’m on my feet.” Will’s voice had deepened to a growl. “Promise me you’ll do it.”

“Fine, I’ll do it. But you promise me something. The more you rest, the sooner you can come home. I need to know you’re taking it easy and letting these good people take care of you.”

“All right.” His jaw tightened as he shifted in the bed. “Now get going before that battle-ax of a nurse throws you out of here.” Will’s voice had begun to strain and fade. Realizing he’d stayed long enough, Beau turned to leave. That was when he heard a commotion in the hall.

“You can’t go back there, ma’am.” It was the nurse Will had just mentioned. “The doctor said—”

“I don’t care what he said! Get out of my way!” The door swung open and Tori burst into the room. Dressed in her black court suit with a fuchsia-pink silk blouse, she was wind-tousled and out of breath, as if she’d crossed the parking lot at a dead run in her high stilettos.

The sight of Will stopped her in her tracks. “Oh, good Lord,” she breathed.

Will managed a grin. “Tori, honey,” he drawled. “You look like a chocolate-dipped strawberry. Sorry I can’t get up and take a nibble.”

She glanced sharply at Beau. “Is he drunk?”

“It’s the pain meds,” Beau said.

Bunching her fists on her slender hips, she glowered at her ex-husband. “You should’ve been more careful, Will Tyler!” she snapped. “How could you have let this happen?”

“You could ask the snake, but he’s blown to bloody . . . bits.” Will grimaced, unable to keep up the pretense that he wasn’t in excruciating pain.

Tori, Beau noticed, was trembling on her high heels. Glancing around the tiny room, he spotted a folding chair and set it up next to the bed. As she moved past him to sit, he glimpsed tears in her eyes.

What happened between these two people who still clearly love each other?

“Does Erin know?” Will asked.

“Only the little I was able to tell her. She’s sleeping over with a friend tonight. But I know she’s worried about you.”

“She mustn’t come. It’d only upset her. Just tell her I’m doing fine.”

“Are you doing fine, Will?” Her hand crept across the sheet to rest on his.

Something glimmered in one swollen eye. “Don’t worry your pretty head about me, girl. I’m too mean and ugly to die.” His gaze shifted to Beau, who stood in the doorway. “Get going, man. I’m here with a beautiful woman, and you’ve got a ranch to run.”

Beau headed back to the waiting room, reassured that Will was in good hands. Tori would keep an eye on him, and heaven help anybody who tried to remove her from his bedside before she was ready to leave.

To Beau’s surprise, the sheriff was still there, over by the coffeepot in the alcove. “I didn’t expect you to still be here, Sheriff.”

“I was just getting me a cup for the road.” He popped a lid onto a cup. “How’s the patient?”

“Well enough to give orders. Tori’s with him.”

The sheriff nodded. “Yeah, I saw her come flying through and charge on back.”

“I need to head back to the ranch. Any chance I can ride that far with you?”

“I don’t see why not. You’re a fellow man of the law,” he replied with a shrug.

“I appreciate it. I’m ready if you are.”

“Let’s go.” The sheriff headed for the exit, cup in hand.

 

Sky scanned the rugged canyon pastureland, his gaze lingering on the mesquite thickets where cattle might still be hiding. Most people thought cows were dumb, and maybe they were in the ways humans measured intelligence. But long ago their ancestors had been wild, and the old survival instincts were still there, buried deep in their genes. They were smart enough to hide, and to hide well.

The roundup was organized to cover one section of the ranch at a time. When the hands finished clearing the cattle out of an area, they moved, along with everything they needed, to the next site. This lower pasture, on the border of the ranch, was one of the larger sections. It was a grueling place to work cows because of the brush, which would need to be chained and burned over the summer while the cattle were gone.

Now, after three days, the work here was almost finished. One more sweep to gather any loose animals and the branding fire would be doused, the equipment loaded onto trucks, and the whole operation moved to a new spot.

It was the custom to change horses after lunch. Sky had chosen a sturdy buckskin from his string in the remuda. With the cowhands mounted once more, he directed them to spread along the outer boundaries of the pasture and work their way toward the center, driving the last of the cattle ahead of them. He and Lute would check the bog at the lowest corner. Calves had been known to wander into the morass of reeds and cattails and get mired in the sucking mud.

Motioning for Lute to follow, he nudged the horse to an easy trot. Lute had been slacking all day. Any other new hire would have been shown the gate, but Sky wanted to give the boy the same chance he’d been given. He remembered how he’d wandered onto the Rimrock Ranch years ago, young and scared and hungry, and how Bull Tyler had taken him in and given him work. This ranch could be Lute’s one chance to make a decent future for himself.

Lute was family, more like a kid brother than a cousin. Sky barely remembered his own mother, who had died when he was three, and the nameless white man who’d fathered him was long gone. If his mother’s brother hadn’t given him a home, he’d have ended up a ward of the state.

Life in the big, unruly Fletcher clan had been far from perfect. The mother was a descendant of Comancheros, Mexicans who’d traded with the Indians for white captives to sell south of the border. Drinking, drugs, fights, and petty crimes were so commonplace in the family that Sky had come to accept these things as normal. But he’d always sensed that he was different, and he’d held himself apart.

At fifteen, after his uncle had belt-whipped his back to a mass of bloody welts, he’d run away and found a new life. The Tylers had been good to him, and Sky was loyal to the marrow of his bones. But he knew better than to think he could ever be one of them.

“I need to ask you something, Sky.” Lute, who’d been trailing behind, had caught up with him. “What can you tell me about girls?”

The question almost made Sky laugh. He’d dated some attractive ladies over the years, but they’d all ended up moving on. Not that he blamed them. Much as he enjoyed a good roll in the hay, he’d never had the time to invest in a serious relationship. Maybe he never would.

“Do I look like the right man to ask about girls?” he responded to Lute’s query. “How many girls have you seen flocking around me, boy?”

“You’re family. There’s nobody else I can ask.”

Sky scanned the brush for any sign of a rusty-red coat. “So what exactly do you want me to tell you?”

“You know. How to make them like you. What to say. How you know when it’s time to make a move.”

“So you’ve met a girl, have you?”

“Her name’s Jess. She’s a waitress at the Blue Coyote. Wears these sexy little pink boots. Last week she let me take her out for pizza, but I’d like to . . . you know.”

Sky groaned inwardly. He’d never been with Jess, but he could name a dozen men who had. Lute’s naïve young heart was about to get stomped. The lesson would be bitter, but there was one only one way for him to learn it—on his own.

“Just be yourself,” Sky said. “If she likes you, fine. If not, there are plenty of other girls around. The most important thing to remember is, play it cool. Don’t push her. And don’t act like you care too much, even if you do. Make sense?”

“I . . . guess.” Lute seemed distracted. They were nearing the bog, a place Sky had never liked. It was rank with the odors of rotting vegetation and animals that had died trapped in the muck. Today the smell seemed unusually bad. Black vultures, their ugly red heads bare of feathers, flapped in and out of the reeds. A dozen of them roosted in the dead white cottonwood that stood at the edge of the swamp.

“Dammit!” Sky swore. “I’m betting we’ve lost a cow. But we’ve got to make sure. Come on, Lute. It won’t be pretty, but this is part of the job.”

Dismounting, they tethered their horses at a safe distance and walked down the slope toward the patch of tall brown reeds where the birds were flocking.

Lute was first to see what they were feeding on. Without a word, he doubled over and vomited in the grass.

Sky breathed an oath as he saw it, too. The body had been here for a few days, he calculated, long enough for the birds to make a mess of it. The head and torso were hidden by the reeds. Only the bare legs were clearly visible—legs that ended in a pair of waterlogged pink boots.