Chapter Twelve

Nathan released his grip on the boulder he had been clinging to since being dragged down the river by the strong current, and he struck out for shore. Hampered by his shoes, he kicked them off, and fought the current as he alternately swam across the rapids and allowed them to take him further away down the river.

He had hung onto the lower edge of the boulder for hours, hoping and praying that another boat would come by to rescue him. A sternwheeler had navigated the river near the opposite shore shortly after he’d found himself thrown up against the rock, but his voice had been drowned by the rushing water. He had not been able to crawl up onto the boulder, and had remained hidden from view. The sternwheeler had not seen him nor heard his calls for help.

The shore hadn’t seemed far when he first let go of the boulder, but he couldn’t sustain the strong strokes needed to forge the rapids. As he allowed the river to reclaim him again during respites, he barely kept his head above the surface and waited for another patch of calm water to begin swimming again.

His jacket weighed him down, and he shrugged out of it. Another round of powerful strokes, and his feet scraped against the sandy bottom, but he couldn’t take hold of the steep porous banks before the river attempted to drag him even further. He clawed at the dirt and reached for scrubby sagebrush, catching hold of one plant near the water’s edge.

Praying that the roots wouldn’t give way, Nathan hung on while he found a toehold in the sand and dragged himself up out of the river. Exhausted and out of breath from the fight to reach shore, he threw himself onto his back, only just aware that night was falling. Another half hour, and he would have been in total darkness on the river...and dead. He could not have survived the river without some measure of light.

As his breathing slowed, his body began to shake from the cold night air on his wet skin and clothes. He turned on his side, pulled his knees to his chest and hugged himself. Pain shot through the side of his head, and he reached for the spot near his temple. A bump protruded through his hair, and his fingers came away sticky. He smelled blood, and suspected he must have hit his head on something as he fell from the boat.

He had never come so close to death before, and he thanked his lucky stars he had survived the churning water that had threatened to drag him under. He’d lost consciousness briefly and had awakened when he’d been thrown against the boulder.

Amanda! Was she safe? Had they rescued the other passengers? The last he had seen of her, she clung to the railing with one hand and reached for him with the other. Hopefully, she hadn’t let go.

Nathan’s body convulsed in shivers. It was so very cold. He raised his head to look around for some sort of shelter, but there was no moon, and the night was dark. He could see nothing now that twilight had dissipated. He couldn’t even attempt to find his way back to Wenatchee or wherever the nearest town along the river was. No lights broke the blackness. He supposed he could have followed the river from the sound of the water, but it would have been too unsafe. He well knew that the bank was steep and not easily traversed. If anything, he might have to head inland to find terrain more suitable for walking. He thought he remembered the river was flanked by low-lying hills.

Amanda. He prayed that she had been rescued. If so, he had no doubt that Robert would see to her. Did they think him dead? Would the steamboat company send out a search party? He had no idea, but he fervently hoped so. As soon as dawn arrived, he would watch the river closely and attempt to hail any passing boats. The river was wide in spots, but he felt certain he could shout loud enough to be noticed...if he wanted to return to Amanda.

His dear love, Amanda. He closed his eyes and willed her to know that he was alive, that he had not left her yet again. He couldn’t bear the thought that she might be suffering, thinking him dead. Her screams as he fell from the boat haunted him.

Nathan shivered again and pulled his knees even closer. He attempted to think of warm things—the touch of Amanda’s hands, her kiss, her words of love before they were parted. She loved him still, or perhaps again. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that she loved him. They would marry...soon this time, no waiting. His heart thumped happily, and his body warmed with his thoughts. He drifted off to sleep.

****

A bright ray of golden light pierced Nathan’s eyelids, and he awakened. He attempted to stretch, but every bone in his body ached, and he gave up the effort. He looked up at the rising sun—an orange confection that rose above the hills on the opposite side of the river.

He sat up stiffly and looked around, noting that he had slept on the bank at a forty-five degree angle given the steep ascent from the river. The bank looked as difficult to traverse as he had thought the night before, and he hoped he could hail a passing boat before he attempted to clamber along the sandy shores to find his way back to Wenatchee.

With no boats in sight however, Nathan, feeling an urgent need to return to Amanda, rose to his feet and attempted to stand upright. He slipped in the sand and threw himself down onto the bank again before he fell back toward the water. His heart pounded, and he looked down at the churning river. He had no intention of falling into that morass again.

Further, he realized that he had no shoes. He had kicked them off in the river, barely thinking that he might need them at some point. He hadn’t been sure at the time that he would have any further use for shoes. Dead men needed no shoes.

He turned over and prostrated himself on the side of the hill. It appeared as if he would have to belly crawl for some time if he wished to traverse the steep bank.

Several excruciatingly long hours later, the bank leveled off slightly, and he was able to stand upright again without losing his balance and sliding back into the river. His feet, unaccustomed to going bare, ached as did his fingers from clawing at the planking of the sternwheeler. He had heretofore been able to ignore the pain in his head, but on standing upright, pressure seemed to make it throb.

A long low whistle caught his attention, and he scanned the river. Nothing. However, a bend in the river just ahead blocked his view downriver. He waited, his heart pounding. Minutes passed as he strained to catch sight of the boat.

At last! A sternwheeler came around the bend. He was rescued! He jumped up and down, shouting and waving his arms.

“Hellooooo! I’m here! I’m here! Hey! Over here!”

Nathan noted the river appeared to be extremely wide if shallow, and the boat kept to the opposite side to avoid large boulders protruding near his side of the river.

“Hellloooo!!!”

The sternwheeler chugged its way up the river, and Nathan tried jumping even higher in an attempt to be seen. Even from his position on the bank, he could hear the loud rhythmic slapping of the paddle on the water and the steady whoosh as the water rotated around the wheel—sounds which probably drowned his voice.

He looked around for some device to force those on the boat to see him. Fire would have been perfect, but no wood lay nearby, and he had no matches. He grabbed rocks and hurled them toward the water to effect a splash. Nothing. They simply sunk. Having nothing else at hand, he grabbed loose sand and threw it into the air to form a cloud, and ended up doing nothing but coating his hair, face and clothes in the tan soil.

“Helloooo!!! You there! It’s Nathan Carpenter!”

He tried running up and down the bank, hoping the movement would capture a searching eye. Nothing. No whistle. If anything, he now blended into the bank having doused himself in sand.

His throat burned from roaring, his neck veins felt as if they must explode, his chest ached from dragging in air for the next round of shouting.

The sternwheeler continued moving, passing his position and moving further away upriver.

Nathan bellowed until the sternwheeler passed out of sight, and he fell to his knees and stared at the empty river. Perhaps they had not looked for him after all. Surely, that sternwheeler had come from Wenatchee. Would they not have searched the riverbanks for him? Had he truly been that far away that they could not see him?

Nathan scanned the far riverbank. No, unless he had binoculars, he would not have been able to pick out a wild man jumping up and down on the bank either. Especially one whose dark clothing now appeared beige and blended in with the sandy riverbank. There was little chance another sternwheeler would come through today as there were only two plying the river, and one of them had sunk.

Telling himself that he would not reach Wenatchee by kneeling on the ground, Nathan pushed himself to a standing position and faced upriver again. He winced as he took a step and looked down to see blood on his feet. He must have cut them on the sharp rocks and sticky bushes which lay hidden under the sand. With a sigh, he removed his vest and shirt and ripped the sleeves from his shirt. He put his clothes back on and sat down to tie the sleeves around his feet into makeshift shoes.

Standing once again, he tested them. Though his shirtsleeve slippers provided no padding, they did ease the stinging in his feet, and he set out again to head downriver with no clear idea of how far away he was from Wenatchee or any other town for that matter, and how long it would take to reach civilization.

Day turned into night, and Nathan stopped when he could see no longer. He had sustained himself with water by drinking from the river, and by eating an apple he found bobbing along the bank. Manna from heaven, he had thought at the time. Or perhaps the apple had been lost overboard when the Cascades wrecked, and it had floated down the river.

He dug out a trench for himself and buried himself in it, preparing once again for a long cold night. A distant howling sent shivers up Nathan’s spine. Wolves! He hoped the wolves would stay where they were—distant. He had no resources to fight off hungry wolves and was sorely lacking in energy and stamina. He had previously thought that life on the streets in the twenty-first century with only his coat and the occasional use of a shelter stave off freezing to death had been harsh, but he realized his present circumstances were much worse.

This time though, he had Amanda. He had finally found her when it seemed all hope was lost, and she loved him. Nathan crossed his arms and dreamed of his dear love, hoping she was somewhere safe and warm and that he would see her again soon.