River Rocks: A West Virginia Adventure Novel

by Steve Kittner

  The sail arced out beautifully and the boys were amazed at how much force it created with such a small amount of fabric. They were even able to turn the entire sail system to capture the wind at the best angle to take them faster upstream.

  Josh turned around to see the three kids on the bank now looking at them as the rope swing hung limp. It was their turn to be envious. They looked on in amazement as the boys made their way upriver on a homemade vessel with no motor at all. Just the power of the wind carried them along, overtaking the strength of the current.

  In reality, they were all lucky, the kids on the raft and the kids on the shore. All six of them lived along the banks of the beautiful Elk River and were enjoying summer the way kids were meant to enjoy summer. Country style!

  GISELLE O’CONNER

  Only the light of the computer screen illuminated her room as well as her warm hair and green eyes that first captured Josh and Eddie’s attention.

  Giselle scrolled screen after screen looking for something that might give her some more information to all this weirdness that was going on. She couldn’t figure out Mr. Mansfield’s curiosity in the matter and was a bit befuddled over the way the Sheriff and the Mayor acted at the Town Office. It seemed that everyone was looking over their shoulder at something that even they didn’t know what it was.

  Giselle had decided to search out some genealogical facts and had been digging for a couple of hours on the Mansfield name. She was able to find a branch of the not-so-popular-for-the-area name and did trace it right down to a baby born about 57 years ago by the name of Elton Jacob Mansfield. Not so difficult. But it didn’t tell her much other than the Mansfields had been in the area for about 150 years. What was it about him that was so peculiar? She decided to search on and see what she could dig up on Sheriff Collins.

  As the night went on Giselle researched the name and isolated it to the Elk River area. This genealogical website was full of the information she needed.

  Sheriff Collins’ father’s name was Thomas Collins and his mother’s name was Elizabeth. They were both from the area and their families had been there for generations, just like the Mansfields. That was the one thing that was beginning to be the common denominator; Everyone who was looking over the kids’ shoulders, had a long family history in the Elk River Valley. All of these families traced back to before the time of the train robbery. The Otis family, the Collins family and the Mansfields. Curious and interesting, but maybe just coincidence.

  .

  Now it was Mayor Billingsworth’s turn.

  “Giselle?”

  She jumped nearly out of her seat as her bedroom door eased open.

  “Oh my gosh, Mom.”

  “Sorry, honey. Hey, we have to be at the University at 8:00 in the morning. Do you know what time it is?”

  “Yikes,” she said as she looked at her clock beside her bed and then confirmed the time on her computer: 12:53 a.m. “OK, I’m done for the night.”

  Her mom took a sip from the bottled water she had just grabbed from the fridge and pulled the door back to its slightly open position.

  Billingsworth would have to wait.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  The test sail had gone beautifully. The raft was stable, steered well, and sat high in the water, which would be perfect for taking the boys over the shallow shoals. It was now time to go camping and search out a man named Burl Otis. Back to business.

  Josh and Eddie had agreed to meet Brad the next morning at “Brad’s Landing,” as they called it, the area where Brad had put together his vessel and opened the door to new adventures in his life, and new friends too.

  Eddie showed up at Josh’s house at ten o’clock the following morning with his backpack full of the supplies he would need for the next couple of days -- canned food, bottles of water, matches, beef jerky, a hatchet, a knife, rope, his tent and his sleeping bag to name a few. Josh was still busy stuffing his own backpack full of necessary items when Eddie walked into his garage.

  “You still packing?”

  Josh turned around to see his friend stepping from the driveway into the garage.

  “Hey. I was thinkin’ of takin’ the deer-hide,” Josh said.

  “OK” Eddie paused a second. “How come?” Eddie walked over to where Josh was provisioning his backpack and lay his down on the garage floor.

  “I don’t know. I just thought we could look at it while we are camping. Try to figure some more of it out.”

  “You got room for it?”

  “Yeah. I’m gonna put it in this tube and then let it stick out the top of the backpack.”

  Josh walked over to the corner of the garage where the old red milk can sat and reached for the lid to pull it off. The lid lay loose on the top of the can and Josh thought this a little peculiar, thinking that he had put it on tight the last time they had the document out over at Eddie’s garage. The clank of something metallic.

  “Did you throw away that old can of tuna from last year?” Eddie joked.

  Josh smirked as he lifted the lid off of the can and looked down into the emptiness of it and immediately his stomach knotted. His face turned white as a sheet as he turned and looked at Eddie. He didn’t have to say anything at all. Eddie knew something was wrong as he stepped over to the can to see for himself. It was gone.

  “Oh man,” Josh said, as his hand went to his forehead and he stared off into thought.

  “Are you sure you put it back in there?”

  “Oh yeah. Remember at your garage? I took it off the bench, put it in the can, and pushed the lid on tight. Just now, it was lying there loose.”

  “Do your parents know about it?”

  “No, I haven’t told them. I have no idea who could have come in here and taken it.” He paused. “I can’t believe this.” Josh shook his head in disbelief.

  “It would be awfully bold of someone to do, that’s for sure.”

  “You still have your copy, right?”

  “Yeah. I’ll run back home and get it so we can do like you said.”

  “Eddie, we gotta figure out who took this thing. Nobody knows about it but you, Giselle, and me. She wouldn’t have come and gotten it, would she?”

  “No, not without talking to us first. I don’t think so.”

  “I guess we should have left it over at your place.”

  “Well, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault, Josh. Don’t worry about it.”

  Josh said nothing, still in a bit of a daze trying to figure out who and why.

  “Well, anyway, I’ll run home and get that copy,” Eddie said.

  “I’ll be ready to go by the time you get back. Hey, see if your mom has any fudge.”

  Eddie grinned as he hopped on Josh’s bike to make better time.

  “I’ll be back.”

  Still in disbelief, Josh continued his packing and at the same time scanning his memory for who could have known of the can and the document and who would have cared enough to steal it.

  In all, only three others could have any knowledge of what they had found. Elton Mansfield found Josh’s yellow legal pad copy. He would, however, have to have had some knowledge of the can and the document in the first place in order to have any reason to come and steal it. Second was the Sheriff or someone else in the office, who had found the copy of Burl Otis’ tax records in the copier, but that would be a stretch. They would have to have known the story of the Otises and the train robbery. It was possible, but not likely. And then even less likely was Brad Radcliffe, who would have stolen it just for the sake of being mischievous. If it was Brad, though, Josh figured he would have returned it or at least confessed to taking it since Josh and Eddie helped him out so much on the raft. Brad would be more likely to steal tools or a bike or something he could use or sell. Not a deer hide from a milk can. Maybe new Brad wouldn’t steal anything at all.

  It was baffling, to say the least, but it was gone and they were not likely to get it back.

  Josh finished his packing and Ed
die returned on the bike with the yellow legal pad copy of the document in his back pocket. The two friends grabbed their backpacks, closed the garage door, and headed down over the riverbank where they would walk about a half-mile to “Brad’s Landing.”

  They walked along the muddy banks on their bike trail that led them across small streams that emptied out into the river, and through the thick milkweed patch to the point where they had first seen Brad constructing his river raft. As they began dropping down towards the river, they saw Brad already down at the raft, double checking knots and neatly coiling up the ropes that controlled the sail on his raft. Neatness is efficiency.

  “Below, there!” Eddie called out in his best pirate voice.

  Brad looked up over his shoulder, continuing his work, and acknowledged his new friends. “Hey guys! Ready to go?” he asked enthusiastically.

  The boys made their way down to the water’s edge, loaded their gear onto the raft and untied the line that secured the raft to the shore. Their downriver adventure was about to begin. It was finally time to go find Burl Otis, and try to get some answers to some questions about a stash of Confederate gold that was robbed from a train one rainy night in 1903.

  “OK Shove off!” Brad gave the command.

  Once again, Josh put one foot on the riverbank and one foot on the raft and gave a hard push. Eddie grabbed the long pole and pushed them out into the current once again. Brad was at the tiller and Josh situated himself on the starboard or right side of the raft. Once they reached midstream, Eddie put away the pole and the raft was under Brad’s control. He held the tiller steady, keeping them on a very straight course down the middle of the Elk River. They had about three miles to drift and all three boys were settling in for a smooth, relaxing cruise. There was a steady, warm wind blowing in their faces, which would mean that when Brad was sailing the raft back by himself he would have a perfect tailwind. It was a great day.

  They went a short distance and to the right was the tree swing that, a day earlier, was hurling three young boys out into the cool river. Today it hung limp.

  Josh watched a water snake drop from a tree limb into the river. You don’t think of things like that when you are swimming. You don’t think of the large river turtles and mud puppies either. Or the leaches and the crawfish. Young boys are much too busy having fun to worry about things like that when they are swimming in the river.

  They had drifted about a mile when Eddie spotted Tiny Brooks sitting on his small and sagging fishing dock. Tiny was an old black man that the boys liked very much. Nobody could tell a tale like Tiny Brooks, and he had a lot to tell. Tiny, in his early seventies, had seen and heard a lot of things that went on up and down the river. He was a fun man to set around a campfire with, and Josh and Eddie had done that a few times.

  As they got a little closer, the boys all waved and Josh shouted out, “How many ya caught today, Tiny?”

  “Hey boys! I’m doin’ alright.” Tiny Brooks lifted up a stringer full of nice-sized catfish that would most likely be on his dinner table that evening. He smiled big.

  “Whatcha got there?” He nodded his head toward the plywood contraption with milk jugs tied to the bottom of it. Tiny sat there with old worn black pants cut off to just below the knees and an equally old khaki shirt. He was barefoot and wore an old straw hat on his head with his favorite fishing lures hooked to it, along with extra hooks for bait fishing.

  “It’s my new raft!” Brad replied proudly. “My buddies helped me put it together!”

  “Buddies?” Tiny said softly to himself.

  Josh and Eddie looked at each other and grinned, still not believing the change in Brad Radcliffe.

  “That’s a fine lookin’ raft,” he assured Brad while nodding his head. “Fine lookin’ raft.” Tiny looked at Josh and Eddie and then at Brad. He knew Brad and knew of his reputation very well. Tiny also knew Brad had a tough home life.

  “Thank you Mr. Brooks.”

  “Where you boys headed?” he asked sitting up a little.

  “Tater Holler,” Eddie returned.

  Tiny Brooks got a look of concern on his face and then stood up. “Why you goin’ to Tater Holler? They’s nothin’ there.” He stepped closer to the river.

  Josh and Eddie looked at each other as if to check for approval before answering the question.

  Josh responded, “We’re just going to do some camping. Just a couple of nights.”

  Tiny turned his head a bit in disbelief and pulled his eyebrows down as he studied their answer. “There’s no place to camp up there, boys, unless you pitch on a well site. But that’s not good camping.” He paused a bit and put his hands on his hips as they drifted a little further downstream. “What else you up to?” He squinted.

  They could get away with nothing with Tiny. He was too old and to wise and knew young boys too well, having been one once.

  Eddie was chewing on his lip when Josh said, “We’re gonna go find Burl Otis. Ya’ know him?”

  Eddie looked at Josh and hoped he knew what he was doing. He would be taking two more people into his confidence. Tiny and Brad.

  Tiny Brooks’ look of concern turned into a look of worry. “Why… would you boys be looking for Burl Otis? I hear he’s a nasty old man. You boys know that, right?” When Tiny said it his nose and mouth wrinkled as if he had just eaten a lemon.

  The raft continued to drift as Tiny now walked along the riverbank, talking to the boys out in the river. They got further and further away as Tiny’s eyes stayed fixed on them.

  “It’s a real long story, Tiny,” Josh hollered back. “We’ll see you in a couple days!”

  “I’ll be back up this way in a couple hours, Tiny.” Brad hollered. “Don’t catch ‘em all!”

  Tiny Brooks stood on the riverbank with his arms down at his sides. The look of worry never left his face as the three adventurers drifted out of sight around the bend of the river.

  “Hope you boys know what you’re doin’,” he said softly to himself.

  The raft continued to drift until they came to the old one-lane bridge that spanned the river. The old bridge was still in use, although very old and rusty. Someone had decided to paint it baby blue a few years back which made the old iron structure a site to see and pretty much an icon on the Elk River.

  As they drifted under the old bridge cars went across, and one could see the boards move that were used for the road decking. As the cars drove over, you could hear the boom, boom, boom as the boards rattled around under the weight of the heavy cars. A new bridge would be a good idea sometime soon.

  Once past the bridge, it was just about a half-mile to the shoals that they would have to navigate. It was going to be a real test of the boys’ seamanship.

  Eddie said, “I think we are going to have to stay to the left side of the shoals. That’s where the break is where we can squeeze over the rocks. It’s the deepest there.”

  “OK” said Brad. “Josh, can you go to the front as a spotter and Eddie can get the pole?”

  “Yeah” Josh and Eddie answered in unison.

  “Hey Brad, you’re getting the hang of this,” Eddie assured him with a grin.

  Brad returned the grin and nodded. A boy’s way of saying thanks.

  “You’re gonna have a hard time coming back across them though, by yourself.”

  “I was thinkin’ about that, too. I’ll manage. I’ll pole it.”

  They said nothing at all for a couple of minutes as they floated closer and closer to the shoals. Brad began steering them to the left side of the river and spotted the gap that they needed to squeeze through. It was about twice the width of the raft and, to make it difficult, they were going to have to go way to the left and angle back through it. The gap sort of pointed from the side of the river to the middle and would take careful steering by Brad and poling expertise by Eddie. Josh’s job as a spotter would be critical, too. They could not go over any sharp rocks or else they would puncture a row or two of jugs from front to rear. Maybe t
wenty jugs. If that happened, they would lose buoyancy and sink lower into the water and then they would hit more rocks. There could be no mistakes.

  “OK guys, are we ready?” Eddie asked.

  They were all a little tense as Brad blew out a breath of air from between his pursed lips, staring straight ahead all the while.

  “We can do it.” Josh fired up his team. “We’re lookin’ good.”

  Eddie had the long pole in hand as Josh got down on his hands and knees to get the best perspective of the water depth.

  “It’s getting shallow,” he said. “Looks good though. Straight ahead.”

  Brad held the tiller with a steady hand as the water under them began to gurgle with turbulence and the raft began to rock slightly in the light rapids.

  “Two feet,” Josh called out.

  They were angled perfectly for the gap as Eddie kept the raft from drifting by sticking the long pole into the river bottom every few feet.

  The raft now began to speed up just a little as they entered the more turbulent water of the shoals. Rocks began to show themselves, jutting out of the water on either side of them, but straight away still looked pretty good.

  “A little right! A little right,” Josh called out, spotting a large, submerged stone coming up.

  Eddie poled them a little to the right as Brad held a steady tiller.

  “A foot and a half! We’re good. We’re not hitting bottom! Hold it straight!” Josh called again.

  “Very cool,” Brad whispered as he smiled broadly.

  The raft was now moving faster than it ever had and all three boys’ hearts were pumping hard with excitement and pure adrenaline.

  “Less than a foot! Hold it steady! We’re good!” Josh called out excitedly. “I can’t believe we’re not hitting!”

  They were now in the shallowest and fastest part of the gap and were still sitting high in the water and, even with all three of them on the raft, plus all the camping gear, they never touched bottom once. The water rushed through the jugs underneath and the raft wobbled and rocked to the motion of the river. The boys’ balance never wavered and they felt at that time that they were one with the river and in tune with nature at its best. It’s good to be a kid in West Virginia!