Page 5 of Durango

She opens the door and whistles. Two large dogs come bounding toward us, barking. CT grabs the collar of one and has a good grip on him. I reach for the collar of the second one, but I’m not braced well enough. He drags me a foot before I go down in the mud. The dog runs away.

“Tiny! You get back here!” the woman yells.

The dog runs around the side of the house. I jump up and go after him. The dog is standing in the middle of the backyard with a stick in his mouth. His tail is wagging, which is a good sign.

“You want to play?” I say as I slowly walk toward him. As I get closer, he takes a step back. “Tiny, come here.” I get down on one knee.

The dog takes a step closer. Then another.

“Keep coming,” I coax him.

A crow squawks, catching his attention. It flies low and lands at the river’s edge. The dog drops the stick and runs to the bird. I chase after.

“No, Tiny, come here!” I command.

The dog dives for the bird, but the crow flies over the river to get away. To my horror, the dog jumps into the river after it. Tiny swims to the middle and must realize his mistake. The current is strong, and it takes him. He’s trying to swim against it but failing.

“Oh, please don’t let him go!” the woman shouts.

While I might be great in water, rivers are dangerous and unpredictable. But dammit, I can’t let this woman’s dog die. Ispot a downed tree that extends well into the river. I run to it and scoot across.

“Durango!” CT shouts.

I twist in his direction as he throws me a rope. With it in hand, I turn my attention back to Tiny. He’s heading toward me and about to go under the tree I’m perched on. I reach down as Tiny passes under and am able to grab him and haul him up onto the tree with me. This is not a light dog by any means, but I’m able to get the rope tied to his collar. CT is standing at the river’s edge, and I try to push Tiny toward him as CT pulls on the rope. The dog is scared, but when his owner calls him, he runs down the tree and jumps onto the grass.

CT picks up the dog and darts around the house, likely putting him into the car. I start making my way toward land as well, but a loud crack pierces the air. Uh-oh. That’s not good.

There’s another crack. The tree is breaking away from the roots.

CT runs back, holding the rope as the tree twists, about to break from its roots and send me downstream. “Catch!” CT throws the rope as the log moves again. It misses, and I can’t reach it.

I swear the current has picked up in the short time I’ve been on this tree.

CT throws the rope again, and I catch it. “Watch out!” CT shouts.

I look upstream in time to see what appears to be part of a wooden shed heading straight for me. I can’t get out of the way, and it smacks into my hand and the tree. I lose my grip on the rope, and the tree breaks off from shore.

“Durango!” CT yells.

The current quickly pushes me out of sight of my friend. The shed is against the tree, and I try to climb onto it, but the tree spins, sending me under the water. I try to get above water, butI can’t get in front of the log. I push myself against the current, trying to get to the other side of the shed. It’s my only chance to get above water. My hands move along the log and over onto the shed. It seems like minutes that I’m under, but it’s likely seconds.

The water is freezing, and I have to get my head above water. Finally, my hands find the edge of the shed and reach above the water. I grip something and haul myself up, gasping for air. Now that I can see, I spot a two-by-four that has come partly unattached. I grab it, pulling my body out of the water and onto the top of the shed.

Keeping my eyes on both sides of the river, I look for something I might be able to grab to get away from the strongest part of the current.

About one hundred feet downstream, two men are waving to me. I try to use my body weight to turn the shed in their direction. But it’s no use. The water is moving too fast, and I have no control over the structure I’m sitting on.

As I pass the men, they are waving their hands and jumping up and down. One is shouting something. The river is so loud I can’t hear. I put my hand to my ear, and he shouts louder.

“Waterfall!” He points in the direction I’m going.

The familiar sound of water rushing down grows louder. I can’t see where the water drops off, but I don’t have much time. As I pass under a tree, I grab on, hoping to hoist myself up into its branches. But the branch I grab breaks, sending me back onto the shed.

One of the men who was shouting is now running along the river, but he can’t keep up. The rushing water grows louder. I glance up and can’t see the river beyond about twenty feet in front of me. There are no more trees above me, and I’m in the middle of the river with no way to paddle or get to the edge. Tenfeet. I realize I can’t see the river because that’s where it drops off.

Five feet. I have no choice. I’m going over. All I can do now is brace for impact. With no clue how far this water drops, I have no idea if this shed will remain intact. Hoping for the best, I grab the doorknob at the last minute. And then I see the drop. It’s big. Too big for a free fall. I close my eyes as I go over. Please let this be painless.

CHAPTER 3

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