When the meeting was over, some of the others scattered to their cabins while a few stayed behind to chat or play cards.
“Gabriel, if you want to get your things, I’ll meet you out in front of the office and show you where you’re staying,” Samuel offered.
“Okay, great.” Gabriel made his way back up the stairs and out to his truck. He grabbed his duffel bag, slung it over his shoulder, and picked up one of the boxes with his stuff in it. Samuel came around the corner of the lodge.
“Let me help you with that.” Samuel took the box and started to walk down the gravel drive past the lodge toward a large barnlike structure, down closer to The River. “You’re going to be helping in various areas around the camp. I’ve got you working closely with Ezra. He manages the grounds and the equipment, as well as makes some mean cinnamon rolls. He’s been here longer than anyone and will show you the ropes. It’s pretty much seven days a week around here during the season, but you’ll have some personal time to run The River, do some exploring, or whatever.”
They made their way down around the back of the large barn building. They got on a well-worn mossy path that cut into the woods along The River. “Smell that? If you get lost, just follow the smell of Ezra’s pipe.” Sure enough, Gabriel took a big whiff and smelled the nutty pipe smoke.
“That smells good.”
“Good thing you like it, ’cause Ezra puffs on that thing a lot.”
After a couple of minutes, they came upon the back of a small cabin just up the hill from the path. Ezra was seated in his rocking chair on the deck, puffing his pipe, reading a book by the dim porch light. They walked up the slope, stepping on the rocks placed there for good footing.
“Come on in, gentlemen.” Ezra stood up quickly and showed Gabriel to his room, which was adjacent to Ezra’s. They shared a bathroom in between.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Gabriel. We have breakfast in the kitchen at eight a.m.” Samuel put Gabriel’s box down on the floor and excused himself.
The cabin was primitive: a single bed, a plain night table, a lamp, and a small pine dresser. Gabriel didn’t mind. That’s about all he had back in Cairo. He opened the door to the deck and took in the view. The River was a stone’s throw away and sounded like heaven as it rippled along. The glow of moonlight reflected off the water, and the unmistakable scent of pine and fir filled the forest. Farther over on the deck, Ezra had returned to his rocking chair and his book.
Gabriel walked back into his bedroom to unpack his belongings. He noticed a white envelope with his name written on it resting on the pillow. He tore into the envelope quickly to read this:
Dear Gabriel,
I’m sorry I’m not there to see you. I really wanted to be. I had so much fun with you and the guys a couple of weeks ago. While you’re reading this, I’ll be in the car driving with my father to our other camp, which is a little farther west. He needed me to help him take care of a few things there. I’m hoping I can get back to see you soon. Ezra and Samuel will take good care of you. Until then, enjoy The River, and make sure you get to try Ezra’s cinnamon rolls. They’re amazing!
See you soon,
Tabitha
On one hand Gabriel was thankful for the note, but on the other hand he was extremely disappointed. He had dreamed of seeing her, hugging her, and going for a long walk by The River. He was smitten by the way she smelled and by the way her hair felt on his cheek the last time they were together.
He set the note on his nightstand and joined Ezra on the deck. He sat down in the other rocking chair and put his feet up on the rail. After a few moments of silence, Ezra closed his book and leaned forward in his rocker with his elbows on his knees. Then he looked out at the water.
“Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Just listen. It’s the sound of The River. It sounds different to me every night. It’s like it’s talkin’ to ya. I don’t know how it does that, but I’ll tell you this, I never get tired of listenin’.”
“Hey, Ezra, what was that song you were singing when I met you earlier today?”
“I was singing? Oh my. . . I don’t know.”
“You sounded great. Something about ‘wade out in the water.’”
“Ah, yes.” Ezra tipped his head back as he remembered. “My momma used to sing that when I was a little boy. I remember going down to The River and seeing some folks get baptized—you know, dunked under by a preacher. That was the song they sang at those gatherings. That’s a real special memory for me.”
The older man paused. “But that was a long time ago. Glad you’re here, Gabriel Clarke.” Then he got up and opened the door to his room.
He was almost inside when he leaned back out. “Tabitha said there is just somethin’ about Gabriel. Ooh, she was smilin’ when she said it too.”
Gabriel smiled back.
“Good night, Ezra.”
EIGHTEEN
Hanging Out with Ezra
AWEEK HAD PASSED, AND STILL NO SIGN OFTABITHA.
Gabriel was anxious to see her, but he hadn’t summoned the courage to call the other camp to track her down. He didn’t want to appear pushy.
With the arrival of summer warmth, the guide school was in full swing. The new guides were undergoing classroom training before and after receiving valuable hands-on clinics on The River. Like a summer football training camp, the Big Water coaches showed the incoming class what they needed to do to lead a raft down The River since one day they would actually make the calls in the whitewater.
Excitement filled the adventure camp as the first customers trickled in. The coming weekend—the opening of rafting season—promised to be a busy one.
Gabriel, who wasn’t part of the guide school, busied himself with getting familiar with the workings of the camp. Ezra had him doing everything from cleaning the kitchen to patching rafts and washing wetsuits, and showed him the ropes. Sure, he was doing grunt work, but anytime he wanted, he could enjoy the presence of The River and the majestic scenery.
His favorite part of the day was hanging out with Ezra on the deck overlooking the water after dinner. Ezra, blowing plumes of smoke from his pipe, dispensed anecdotes and bits of wisdom from his forty-plus years of working on The River. Many times it seemed like Ezra knew him well because their conversations flowed as easily as the river waters passing by. Gabriel listened intensely and asked questions, but when there were lulls in the conversation, he turned to reading his trusted companion, The Journal.
At the end of the first week, Samuel approached Gabriel as he was finishing the last round of disinfecting the wetsuits and PFDs.
“I’ve got a three-raft group I’m taking tomorrow on a full-day Widowmaker run,” Samuel announced. “There’s a seat in my raft if you want to go. I’ll need you to prep the lunches and be an overall assistant on the trip. We hit it at nine o’clock sharp. Sound good?”
“Uh. . . yeah. Sounds good. I’m in.” Gabriel played it cool, but he was excited. His adrenaline pumped as he remembered the exhilaration of running Widowmaker the first time with Tabitha. He immediately got that butterfly feeling in his stomach. He was ready, though. He’d already conquered Widowmaker once and wanted more.
“I’ve never tasted stew that good before, Ezra. And that cornbread was like cake! I ate so much I hurt myself. Where did you learn to cook like that?” Gabriel and Ezra were making their way back to the cabin after taking care of the kitchen cleanup.
“Aw, just doin’ it, I suppose. When you make somethin’ enough times, you figure out what went wrong and what went right. The important thing is you should never stop cookin’.”
Gabriel felt like he was talking to an old friend. “All I know is there was a lot of love in that food. I’m no connoisseur, but I can’t imagine there being a better stew out there.”
“Thank you, Gabriel. There’s something very rewarding about cooking for folks. I love to see the looks on their faces when they take that first bite. Good food makes everythi
ng better. A great meal brings people together. What’s better than that? Besides. . . I like to eat too.” Ezra laughed heartily.
They made their way up to the deck attached to the back of their cabin. Within a few moments, a steady rain pelted the metal roof and picked up in intensity. Gabriel reached for The Journal and relaxed in his rocker. Ezra stood next to the deck railing, packing his pipe with fresh tobacco.
“So I hear you’re going to run The River tomorrow with Samuel.”
“Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. I’m a little nervous, though.”
“Nervous?” Ezra showed surprise in his voice.
“I’ve rafted The River only once. Don’t forget—I grew up in Kansas. We don’t have falls like Widowmaker where I was raised.”
Ezra blew out a ring of lazy, pungent smoke. “You got it in ya blood, son. You’ll have a great time. If this rain keeps up, it should make the water nice and fast tomorrow.”
Gabriel didn’t know how to respond.
Ezra broke the silence. “There’s nothing more soothing than a rain at The River. The air gets thick, and I sleep like a baby.”
Gabriel responded by changing the subject. “Do you know when Tabitha is coming?”
“Nope. With the way things are going, she may not be able to drop by anytime soon. Apparently they’re short-handed at the other camp, so she may have to stay up there awhile.”
Gabriel’s heart sank. He had visions of them spending time together on The River, like they did before. “I’ve got to see her. I’ve been here a good week, Ezra.”
The older man chuckled.
“What’s so funny?”
“Nothin’. But tell you what. In a couple of days we’ll go see her. I think she’d like that. I hope you won’t mind a two-and-a-half-hour drive.”
“Are you kidding? Not at all.”
“We better clear it with Samuel first, so you ask him about it tomorrow. We just need to get through the opening weekend, that’s all.”
Gabriel and Ezra took a break from talking and cracked open their books. For the last few nights, Gabriel had been slowly making his way through The Journal. He had read and reread several entries from his father and grandfather. He had found fascinating quotes, statements of honest frustration, and chronicles of harrowing close calls. Sentence by sentence, paragraph by paragraph, he was getting to know his family history. He was also getting to know The River.
As he was thumbing through the well-worn pages that evening, a page caught his eye. At the top, written in large bold letters, it said, “A Trusted Friend Who Can Cook.”
Gabriel read on.
November 14, 1953
Today was a better day, although I sense it may be soon. I' m weak and tired, and I don' t like it at all, but that' s the way it goes. My days have been good. I haven' t always done the right thing, but I' ve tried. We all do the best we can and enjoy the journey.
The River has been good to me. I never tired of guiding people on The River. What a magnificent privilege it was to introduce people to the majesty. You don' t have to say anything. Just take them there, and The River says it all. That' ll be for John to carry on now. My son is a good man.
Today a good friend came to see me. He brought my favorite food, cinnamon rolls. It' s not often you find someone in your life you can really trust, but Ezra Buchanan is one of those people. He' s never asked for anything, and he always serves with a smile. I couldn' t ask for a better co-worker or a better friend. I' m thankful The River brought us together.
I' ll enjoy my treat now. I wonder if they' ll have cinnamon rolls in heaven. So long,
R. Allen Clarke
Gabriel felt like his heart stopped beating. A tidal wave of emotion washed over him. His grandfather, whom he didn’t remember much, writing about his last days and the friend who was sitting in the rocking chair next to him. What a surreal moment.
“You knew my grandfather.” Gabriel spoke with wonder in his voice.
“Yes, I did. Your father too, of course. I’ve been here a long time.” Ezra kept on reading.
“So you knew who I was?” Gabriel knew he sounded a little indignant.
“Oh yes. I was hoping you’d come back someday. Boy, you remind me of your father right now.”
“How come you never said anything?”
“It’s not for me to say when these things are talked about.” Ezra took off his reading glasses and looked at Gabriel. “I’m just glad you’re here, son. This is where you belong.” The old man stood up. “Come with me. I have something to show you.”
Ezra opened the sliding screen door to his room, and Gabriel followed him in. He could tell Ezra had lived there a long time. Inside the quaint room there was a perfectly made bed, and a small tweed chair sat in the corner with a floor lamp next to it. Beside the lamp was a small wooden chest that he used as a footstool. Ezra knelt down and opened the top of the chest, and the smell of cedar wafted into the air.
“I made this chest many years ago. I keep some of my favorite little things in here.”
Ezra pulled out a folder wrapped with a rubber band and dusted it off. He sat on the edge of his bed and opened the file, which contained a photo album full of black-and-white and sepia-tone pictures.
“Look here. There’s your dad when he was about twelve standing with your grandfather. And there—those are the first customers at Big Water.”
He flipped through a few more pages. “Ah, yes, there you are, Gabriel, with your daddy. Says here that you were three years old. Look at your face from all that crying. I remember that day well. You were so mad that you couldn’t go rafting with him that day. Boy, you pitched quite a fit.”
Gabriel stared in wonder at the picture of him and his father. His eyes welled, grateful for the ability to take in these scenes from his past. “Could you tell me something about my father? About all I remember is playing marbles with him. I still have his marble collection. Most of my memories are so faint. . . overshadowed by one memory. . . the day I’d like to forget.”
Ezra paused, lost in thought. “Your father was a great man, Gabriel. I could go on and on. He was strong as a bull. He’d do anything for anyone. . . give you the shirt off his back. He was very kind and patient. He knew The River. From the time he was a young boy, you could barely get him to come in and eat. He’d stay out by the water from dawn to dusk if he could. Yeah. . . I miss him, and your grandfather. They were very good to me.”
Ezra put his hand on Gabriel’s shoulder. “As for that one day you’d like to forget, I remember it well. You know how I like to think about it? I think of it as a special day. . . a day when something beautiful and something powerful happened—a man gave up his life to save another. It doesn’t get any stronger than that in my book.”
Gabriel sensed the respect and awe Ezra held for his father. He studied picture after picture and pondered what life had been like at the camp back then. After a few minutes, he came across a loose picture tucked in the back of the album. Black and white, with a corner torn, the picture showed Ezra standing next to his grandfather and his father when he was a young boy. They were all laughing, but Ezra was bent over looking at his father.
“Can you tell me about this picture?” Gabriel asked.
“Oh yes, one of my favorites. Your father was being quite ornery that day and getting into all kinds of mischief. He had a mad little look on his face because he didn’t get his way or somethin’. Anyway, while we were getting ready to take that picture, your grandfather looked at your father and said, ‘John, stand still for the picture. You better wipe that look off your face.’ Your father replied by swiping the back of his hand across his mouth and then smiling from ear to ear.”
Ezra demonstrated the gesture. “None of us could keep it together after that.” They shared a good laugh.
“How did you come to work here at the camp?”
“Your grandfather found me. I had no family and nowhere to go, but that’s a whole other story.”
Gabriel w
anted to hear it. “Can’t you tell me?”
“Okay, but here’s the real short version. One day your grandfather saw me lying down next to the filling station in town. The weather had turned real cold, and I didn’t know what I was going to do. All I had was the clothes on my back and a handful of marbles. Out of the blue, an angel named R. Allen Clarke asked me if I wanted a job. Forty-two years later, I’m still here. I’ll be here as long as I’m welcome. Mister Clarke, he set my feet on solid ground.”
The older man exhaled. “I’m getting kinda tired, so if it’s fine with you, I’m gonna turn in now.”
Gabriel stood up to leave. “Hey, Ezra? You like to play marbles?”
Ezra’s eyes beamed. “I play a mean game of marbles, son.”
The River had brought another unexpected surprise to Gabriel—Ezra Buchanan. Spending time with Ezra was like peering through a window into the epic landscape of his past. Every conversation with Ezra, like the stroke of a towel on a dirty windowpane, brought more and more clarity. Each conversation breathed new life into Gabriel.
For once, he was moving toward something.
And for the first time, he felt connected to the greatness of the legacy he came from. . . and who he was destined to become.
NINETEEN
An Unexpected Introduction
June 27, 1952
I never tire of running The River.
I had two great runs today, and they both had magical things in store. First, I came across a couple of new strainers today near the Chutes. Then at the end of the day, I could tell the hydraulic at Widowmaker was getting deeper too. I had some great folks in my raft today.
One of my favorite things is introducing first-timers to the beauty of The River. I' ll never understand why some people choose not to connect. One man in my raft could focus only on what he left behind. He didn' t seem to want to be here. He said he had too much to do, and he was here only because his wife wanted him to come.
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