Aquifer: A Novel

by Gary Barnes

  At that moment Sheriff Akers came out of his office and began to approach the men. Hank straightened to his full 6' 3" height and glared at the Sheriff, flanked by his sons. “They’re back!” he gruffly said.

  “Who’s back?” inquired the Sheriff.

  “The rustlers.”

  “What happened?”

  “We rounded up our herd like you said and kept them in the holding area near the barn. Feeding four hundred head of cattle in close quarters is a big job.” He paused as he adjusted his hat. “After a couple of weeks we took ‘em back to the south pasture so they could graze. Well, this afternoon we went out with a load of alfalfa and found that the fence had been trampled again, after we’d fixed it. I took a head count and we’re missing thirty head.”

  “Are you sure the herd didn’t just trample the fence and are grazing along the river somewhere?”

  “Yeah, we checked that. We found the same drag marks on the ground near the river, just like the ones we found the last time. I tell ya someone’s stealin’ our cattle and ferryin’ ‘em downriver.”

  “Okay, I’ll place a report and start checking all the slaughter houses. If I recall, your brand’s pretty distinctive and so it would be hard to alter, wouldn’t it?”

  “The Rocking Star Bar. Yup, it’d be hard to alter, all right.”

  “Well, give me a couple of days to see what I can come up with. Till then you might want to take turns with your boys monitoring your herd 24/7.”

  =/=

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Rocky Falls

  The following Saturday afternoon, Tina picked Larry up at his campsite. She had promised to take him on a picnic to Rocky Falls. They headed out of town going east on Highway 106, which was just as twisty and winding as the highway north of town, but not nearly as hilly. The top was down on the yellow Jeep and Tina’s long blond hair blew about in the wind. After a few miles she turned off the state road onto county road “H.” Seven miles later she left the black-top, turning onto a back-country graveled road marked “NN.” Within just a few minutes the road dead-ended at the parking lot of Rock Falls State Park.

  Exiting the Jeep, they walked down the short footpath to the edge of the lagoon at the base of the water fall. The lagoon was not very large - more of a pond - barely eighty feet across. The waterfall was more of a rocky mountainside. The water poured over the top of the hillside and then cascaded down a fifty-degree incline for about a hundred feet before free-falling five feet into the six-foot deep pool at its base.

  It was early in the day, but already there were over fifty people at the swimming hole sliding down the rocky incline into the water, diving into the pool, or splashing about in the shallow edges. Rocky Falls was a particularly good place for families. There were no swift currents, no undertows, and lots of shallow water for young children – yet the rocky, but smooth, granite incline was challenging enough for teens and young adults to not be bored by a kiddy-type swimming hole.

  At the shallow end of the small lagoon, a half dozen parents had waded out into knee-deep water where they planted aluminum-framed, nylon-webbed lawn chairs. They sat in the chairs, with their feet in the water, tending a floating ice chest filled with cold drinks anchored between them. Relaxed in their cool surroundings, they watched their young children splashing in the warm, clear, shallow water while chatting with friends and nursing their favorite chilled beverage.

  Around the perimeter of the lagoon were several picnic tables and barbeque pits, many of them already claimed by other families who had piled their coolers and baskets atop the tables to reserve their favorite locations.

  Tina and Larry carried their picnic basket and cooler to a table near the edge of the pool at the base of the falls.

  “I never cease to be amazed at how much water there is in the Ozarks,” Larry commented.

  “I suppose that water and rocks are our greatest natural resource.”

  “Well, I think the water on these rocks needs to be tested. Where do we change?”

  Tina pointed to a new dressing house at the far side of the parking lot. “When I was a kid we didn’t have a changing house. We just hid behind the bushes.”

  “That was more information than I needed to know,” he laughed. “Come on, let’s get changed.”

  Larry changed into his trunks more quickly than Tina. While he waited for her to come out of her side of the changing house he scanned the horizon. It appeared that a thunderstorm was brewing in the distance. He hoped that the wind would carry it away from them and not spoil their day. Within a few minutes Tina emerged with a towel draped over one shoulder.

  “Well, it’s about time,” Larry chided playfully, as he placed his arm around her waist to escort her to the swimming hole.

  “Oh, no you don’t,” she scolded, as she sportingly pushed him away. She took off running and raced to the edge of the lagoon near the falls. There she paused, waiting for him to catch up.

  “Hey, that wasn’t very nice,” he jovially protested as he approached.

  She laughed, “But isn’t it nice to be like a kid again? Too many people take themselves way too seriously.”

  “I understand completely,” said Larry as he reached out and gently gave her a shove on the shoulder.

  Tina awkwardly flailed her arms, trying to regain her balance, but only succeeded in accentuating her splash as she landed in the lagoon. She surfaced, spitting water and coughing. “I guess I had that one coming.”

  “Come on,” said Larry. “I’ll race you to the other side.”

  He dove into the water and began to gracefully swim toward the far side, effortlessly propelling himself through the water. Tina was a good swimmer in her own right, having lived around rivers and springs all her life, but she struggled to keep up with him.

  Larry reached the far side of the lagoon first and pulled himself up onto the bank. Tina was only a few feet behind him. As she neared the shore Larry extended his arm and helped her out of the water. They took a few steps and then sat upon a large flat rock not far from the water’s edge.

  A pair of reptilian-type eyes observed the couple from behind a bush sixty feet away, hidden by the dense underbrush. The unblinking eyes fixated on Tina, even though there were many other people splashing in the water nearby.

  “How’d you ever learn to swim like that?” asked Tina.

  “Like I told you before, I like whales. I spent a lot of time in the water back home.”

  As Larry and Tina sat on the rock, chatting and sunning themselves, the predatory creature stealthily advanced closer, skillfully maneuvering into a position off to their left side. The thick foliage provided complete security. While taking the next step, a branch cracked beneath the creature’s foot and it froze from fear of discovery. But the rushing sound of the water falling into the lagoon from the rocky incline muffled the crunch. When convinced that its presence had not been detected, the predator continued inching forward.

  Tina and Larry were deep into conversation, liberally sprinkled with laughter, unaware of the danger that loomed a short distance away.

  When only twenty-five feet from the couple, and still totally concealed by the thick foliage, the predator prepared to attack. Slowly it opened its mouth. Tilting its head to take aim it suddenly spit a thick, sticky substance, hurling the liquid directly at Tina’s head.

  At that moment Tina jerked her head as she erupted into a massive sneeze. The flying liquid whizzed past her head unnoticed, and landed harmlessly in the bushes beside her. Neither she nor Larry were aware of her attack, the sound being drowned out by the rushing of the water.

  “I think my hay-fever is acting up again. I’ve got to get my stuff.”

  “Yeah, and I could go for some of that lunch you brought.”

  “Then we’d better eat it in the car,” she replied, pointing to the clouds behind Larry’s shoulder. “Those thunder-heads are getting a lot closer and look like they could be serious. We ought to head home.”

  Jus
t then a loud clap of thunder rolled through the valley from the distant clouds. Everyone in the lagoon raced from the water, grabbing their lawn chairs, coolers and kids, and dashed up the short footpath for their cars.

  =/=

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Blue Spring

  Over the next several weeks Tina spent a lot of time with Larry under the pretext of showing him many of the unique places the Ozarks had to offer. As the summer progressed, their friendship had deepen and the embers of true romance had begun to kindle.

  To Larry the summer seemed to have whizzed by. He could not believe that they only had three weeks of research left before he had to return to his studies at the University. However, he was mollified by the knowledge that Tina too would be returning to school.

  Clayton, however, seemed consumed by their summer project. He had thrust himself deep into his research, spending countless hours late into the night analyzing data and comparing results with team members in other states. The work had been grueling and now Clayton felt the need for a break.

  A week earlier he had phoned his colleague, Dr. Bart Welton of the astrophysics department, reminding him of his standing invitation to come bass fishing. Dr. Welton did not need any arm twisting to accept the invitation and immediately made plans for the trip. He had arrived at Clayton’s Jack’s Fork River campsite late the previous evening.

  *

  The hot, sunny August afternoon found the foursome floating down the Current River in two canoes: Clayton and Welton led the flotilla while Larry and Tina lagged somewhat behind in the second canoe. Welton was fishing with spinners, spoons and other lures while Clayton was casting with a dry fly. Tina had a fly rod also. Larry was the sole holdout. He had never understood trying to tease a fish into biting bits of plastic, metal and feathers. He used worms. A purist, he fancied himself, even though the fly fishermen of the world would strongly argue that point.

  They had put in at Two Rivers Ranch late in the morning. For the past three hours they had unsuccessfully float-fished, placidly drifting downstream with the lazy current. By late afternoon no one had caught anything. In fact they hadn’t even had a nibble. Even the worms were not working. Though everyone was having a good time just being out on the river, they nevertheless taunted Clayton, good-naturedly, about the lack of fish.

  “So where's all the lunkers I heard about?” teased Welton. “ I thought this river was so full of them that you could almost walk from bank to bank without getting wet. Ya can't have a fish fry without the main course!”

  “Can I help it Welton if you keep scaring all the fish away with your constant casting and reeling? That lure of yours sounds like a brick hitting the water. What do you call that yellow and red thing-a-ma-bob?”

  “It’s a Five of Diamonds, and it’s one of the best bass lures made.”

  “Well, I suggest you return it and get your money back. Besides, a true fisherman uses flies, right Tina?” protested Clayton, hoping to get some backup support.

  Tina laughed but refused to take sides in this battle of wits. She playfully responded, intentionally pretending a deep hillbilly accent. “It don’t much matter how ya do it. There’s more ta fishin’ than whachya ketch, though by now we should’a had a whole mess of ‘em, less’in a course, somethin’ big, ‘n yeller, ‘n red done scairt‘em all away,” she added, as she looked directly at Welton with a broad mischievous smile.

  At that, everyone, including Welton, burst out laughing.

  As they drifted, Clayton’s attention was drawn to another canoe that had kept its distance, constantly trailing about 100 yards behind them for the past half hour. The lone canoeist had all the equipment for fishing but seemed more intent on observing Clayton’s party than on catching any fish. Clayton had the distinct impression that he had seen this man before, but the oversized fishing hat the man was wearing shaded his face such that Clayton couldn’t be sure. His mind searched for something familiar, some framework on which to hang this man’s identity.

  Just then Larry, who had maneuvered his canoe along side of Clayton’s, brought his paddle down hard in the water, flat, so that it created a tremendous splash spraying Clayton and Welton. Jolted back from his wondering thoughts, Clayton returned the favor and a big water fight ensued.

  The good-natured water fight continued while the river’s current lazily drifted the canoes past Owl’s Bend and downstream for another half-mile. Everyone was laughing and having a very good time trying to soak each other, though no one had gotten drenched. At one point Larry tried ramming Clayton’s canoe to swamp the professors, but being a novice at canoeing, he overcorrected his steering and missed by mere inches. The professors were equally inept in their attempt at retaliation. The fine art of canoe navigation was not one of the prerequisites for either graduate school entrance or granting of tenure.

  Just then Tina pointed to the left bank where the Blue Spring tributary merged with the Current River and yelled, “Wait, stop! Stop! Tie up over there. I want to show you something.”

  The water fight ended as quickly as it began and both canoes headed for the far bank. The canoeists tied up, disembarked, and headed down the one-fourth mile long footpath.

  The lone observer secretly beached his canoe about fifty yards farther upriver and sneaked into the woods to continue his observations. The sudden departure of Clayton’s party from the river seemed to have piqued the observer’s curiosity as he hastily, yet stealthily, closed in on his subjects.

  The foursome stood at the edge of a large artesian spring that rose from the base of a 100-foot high white limestone and granite bluff. The crystal clear pool was about seventy-five feet in diameter. The water’s surface was calm and glassy smooth, creating a large reflecting pool, mirroring the bluff which rose majestically above it. The bottom of the small lagoon gradually sloped from the shore toward the bluff on the far side, till it reached a depth of about forty feet at the lagoon’s midpoint. Then the bottom dropped abruptly over a sheer, vertical drop-off. The waters of the deep abyss reflected back a rich, royal, turquoise blue.

  Tina and the three men walked out onto a wooden observation platform built at water level extending fifteen feet into the pool so that tourists could look straight down into the seemingly bottomless pit of the spring. In the shallow water, near the edges of the lagoon, long tresses of underwater grasses gracefully undulated with the gentle current of the spring’s flow. The edges of the pool were rimmed with watercress.

  “Eighty-three million gallons of water a day,” said Tina. “There’s about a dozen springs this size along the Current River but this one’s my favorite. It’s the world’s largest single outlet spring. The first settlers of the area named it Blue Spring, but the Cherokees and Delawares that used to live here called it Spring of the Summer Sky.”

  “I can see why they called it that. It’s so blue and yet it’s also so clear. You can almost see to the bottom,” responded Larry.

  “Not quite,” said Clayton with a slight chuckle. “This plaque says they’ve had divers go down over 400 feet and they still haven’t hit the bottom. At that depth the spring is still going straight down, but standing here on the platform you can see objects down to the depth of about 200 feet.”

  “And as you dive down the wall of the bluff there are a number of caves that go back into it,” Tina added.

  Larry seemed mesmerized by Tina and was totally oblivious to Clayton and Welton, even though they were all standing within five feet of each other. Surprised by Tina’s comment he asked, “You dive?”

  “Of course, don’t you?” she responded playfully.

  “Well, I’ve never had an opportunity.”

  “What? You lived by the ocean and taped whale songs and you’ve never dived? Well, we’ll have to change that!” she said with a laugh. Then composing herself, Tina pointed to a flat wooded area fifty yards behind them, near the brow of a low hill. “See that flat spot on top of the hill over yonder? Before this area became a national park my Granddadd
y’s cabin was over there. When my Mom was a girl one of her chores was to fill the drinking buckets with spring water and lug them back up to the cabin.”

  Then she pointed in the other direction across the lagoon to a cleft in the bluff wall. “See that triangular grotto over there behind the boulder? My mother used to go there as a little girl to be alone and to think. I go there myself when I want a place of solitude to think through things.”

  There appeared to be no way to get to the grotto since it was on the far side of the spring with a bluff wall to the left and the spring's outlet river to the right.

  “So how do you get over there?” asked Larry.

  “Come on, I'll show you,” responded Tina as she started off the observation platform. Stepping onto the dirt path she started to jog and called back over her shoulder, “Last one up the trail jumps first.”

  “What . . . ?” said Larry quizzically.

  “Come on. This’s great fun. You’ll love it,” Tina shouted back.

  The three men started jogging down the trail trying to catch up with Tina who was extremely quick and agile. The trail started out through the woods and headed away from the spring. Then it circled back to the right and ascended up the back side of the bluff. About halfway up the hillside the trail forked. They took the right fork, which doubled back to the face of the bluff, where it opened onto a narrow rocky ledge that crossed the bluff’s midpoint, about fifty feet above the water.

  Tina stopped midway across the ledge, where it widened out slightly and was directly above the center of the spring. When the men caught up to her she pointed down the length of the trail before them, “This trail continues across the bluff then down to the grotto. But now that we're here,” she gestured out over the spring, “who's going to jump first?”

  There was total silence for about three seconds. Larry was the first to speak. “You’re serious?”

  “Well, its against the law since we’re in a National Park. But before that, this land was in our family for seven generations. My family’s been swimming in this spring for almost two-hundred years. Ain’t no better way to cool off on a hot day.” She stepped to the edge of the bluff, bent her knees, leapt forward, and free-fell fifty feet into the spring's lagoon, creating a tremendous splash.