Chapter 55 Red
It was a teenage boy named Lance who renewed Red’s hope.
The pressure in Red’s chest built as he searched the length and breadth of the camp above Hebgen Dam, asking at every crackling campfire, every car filled with trapped campers fiddling with their radios to try to get a station.
“Have you seen a woman and a baby?” he asked. “Two women, or a girl around eighteen with short hair? A red convertible?”
No one gave him any hope.
As he searched, he heard bits and pieces of what had happened in the canyon. Rumors and stories—an avalanche, wind, some kind of flood. Every new calamity he heard sent a shot of urgency through his veins. They had to be safe. Lord, keep them safe. Let me find them.
When Red had checked every square foot of the camp, he tracked down Bridget in what looked like a field hospital.
She was bent over the open tailgate of a station wagon, the shirt and trousers Bucky had given her at Sunnyslope streaked with dirt and blood.
A woman in a bathrobe and curlers stood beside her, holding a flashlight on a boy’s foot.
Red’s dread ratcheted up another notch—the foot looked like it had been through a meat grinder.
An older woman lay beside him, barely breathing.
“They’re not here,” he told Bridget. “I’m going to check the campgrounds downriver. ”
“Who are you looking for?” A teenage kid with an armful of blankets came into the puddle of light. “I’ve talked to just about everybody in camp.”
“A woman named Claire and a baby,” Red answered, his hope dim. “And a girl named Frannie.”
The boy jerked his gaze to Red. “There’s a Frannie down at Rock Creek.”
Every muscle in Red’s body was suddenly alert, and his blood raced in his veins. “Is a woman named Claire with her, and a baby?”
“Is she hurt?” Bridget asked.
Lance looked back and forth between them, as if he didn’t know which question to answer first. “Frannie’s not hurt,” he said to Bridget. “I don’t know about anybody named Claire or a baby. They sent everybody up here, but she and a kid named Paul stayed.”
Rock Creek was at the bottom of the canyon. “I need to get there,” Red said.
“There’s a guy named Roberts,” Lance said helpfully. “I heard he was heading back downriver. I’ll get him for you.” He dropped the blankets and disappeared.
Bridget covered the injured boy with one of the blankets. “I’m going with you, Red.”
Red was fine with that, as long as they could leave right now.
But the boy reached up and grabbed Bridget’s arm. “Don’t go,” he begged. “Please, my mom needs you.”
The woman in the bathrobe didn’t like the idea either. “Please, Nurse Reilly,” she said, turning the flashlight on the line of station wagons. “I can’t do this without you. There are so many hurt.”
Red could see the indecision on Bridget’s face. Claire might be hurt at Rock Creek. Or Jenny. But there were wounded here who needed her, too.
The woman in the bathrobe didn’t mince words. “The Wilsons won’t make it without your help, Nurse. And there’s more injured coming in every time I turn around.”
Bridget looked to the boy and his mother, the line of station wagons, and the hurting people lying on the ground. She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and turned to him. “I have to stay here, Red.”
He swallowed and nodded. “I’ll bring them back,” he promised.
“Let me send some supplies with you.” She put two blankets and a canteen of water in a plastic garbage bag and shoved it in his arms. “I wish I could give you more, but we don’t have anything left.”
He nodded, his throat tight.
Bridget stepped closer. “Red, what I said that day . . . on the way to Mammoth.” She looked like she was having trouble getting the words out.
Red remembered every word. What if Jenny got hurt . . . what if she died because you insist on living in this godforsaken wilderness?
“I was wrong.” She met his gaze.
He shook his head with a jerk to disagree, not trusting his voice.
She wasn’t wrong. He never should have brought Claire to Montana.
They could be in Willmar right now, safe.
What did it matter if he had to endure Daniel Reilly’s disapproval?
He met Bridget’s eyes. Something had changed between him and his critical sister-in-law on the long ride into the canyon.
He wouldn’t say they were friends—but they weren’t enemies.
“I’ll find them,” he told her, shouldering the garbage bag. Claire and Jenny, Frannie, and Beth.
He’d find them or die trying.
Ten minutes later, he and a big man named Roberts were bumping across the camp and down the hill. “Lance said you’re looking for Frannie?” Roberts asked as the boxy Jeep Wagon tipped dangerously to the side.
Red jerked his chin. “And my wife and daughter,” Red said. “She’s Frannie’s sister.”
Roberts got a look on his face that made Red feel sick.
“What?” Red needed to know what the big man didn’t want to say.
“There’s somebody out in the water at Rock Creek,” Roberts said. The heavy car tipped dangerously to the side. “Frannie thinks it might be her sister.”
Red’s stomach contracted and a wave of nausea went through him. “What do you mean, out in the water?” He’d fished the Madison a hundred times and couldn’t envision anything more than a fast-flowing river, perfect for fly fishing.
Roberts reached Hebgen Lake Road and turned toward the canyon.
“There’s a slide at the mouth of the canyon, from what I can tell.
The Madison is backing up and the water is coming over the road.
To tell you the truth”—he flashed Red a frown—“I’m not sure we can even make it back to Rock Creek, but I’ll get you as close as I can. ”
Red knew the winding road between Hebgen Dam and the mouth of the canyon like a map in his head, but now it might as well be the landscape of the moon.
Lightning traced a path across the dark sky, the bright flash illuminating the cracked road, the flattened trees on the northern ridge, rockfalls around every turn.
Red tried to imagine what kind of landslide could stop a river.
What would he find when they got there—if they got there?
Rain started to patter on the windshield and Roberts switched on the wipers.
They made a steady thrumming that only increased Red’s anxiety, like a clock counting down the time he had to save his family.
“Frannie told me to come back with a boat,” Roberts said as he crept around a boulder the size of an outhouse in the middle of the road.
“I asked all over the camp, that’s what was taking me so long to head back.
” He glanced apologetically over at Red.
“No boat, but Lance found a life vest in somebody’s trunk.
Not much, but I figured who knows? It might help. ”
A life vest when they needed a boat? Father Donahue’s guidance came back to him.
God will work with what you give him. He closed his eyes.
He couldn’t have come through this dark night—the explosion at Sunnyslope, the ride through the canyon—to not be able to save his wife. Lord, I’m trying to trust. Help me.
The rain had gone from a sprinkle to a downpour, beating on the windshield like the pounding of horses’ hooves.
Red leaned forward, willing Roberts to move faster.
What if God had given him his heart’s desire—a family—just to take it away?
I’ll take them to Willmar, Lord. I’ll wear a suit and tie and work for Daniel Reilly.
Whatever you want of me. Just let me find them.
Finally, Roberts brought the station wagon to a stop. Red stepped into the pouring rain and walked with Roberts to where the road disappeared under a dark expanse of water.
Roberts scowled. “Can you swim?”
“Some,” Red lied. Swimming lessons weren’t part of his education at the orphanage.
Roberts looked at Red with a doubtful expression. “I don’t suppose you’d listen if I told you not to chance it?”
Red grabbed the garbage bag Bridget had sent with him.
Roberts handed over the life vest and a silver flashlight. “Good luck.”
Red watched as the wagon made a three-point turn and the red taillights disappeared.
The dark night closed around him. Red took off his boots and socks and put them in the garbage bag.
He fastened the life vest around his chest and clicked on the flashlight, roaming the beam over the water’s oily surface.
How deep was it, and what was underneath?
He stepped into the water. The shock of cold went up his spine and rocks bit into his bare feet. He forged onward as the water rose around him.
Hold on, Claire. Hold on and keep hoping. I won’t give up on us.