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We were alone that morning at the end of the trail to the Narrows where the wet part of the hike begins. It was midmorning, getting hotter by the minute, and we were dripping with sweat even before we started.The water was freezing, no surprise, we were prepared for that. Every turn revealed a new constellation of sandstone or a new pattern of striations. After a quick break to have something to eat we continued upstream. We'd gotten kind of strung out, and I think Persephone must have been at least ten yards ahead of me. Hebe was behind me, Oscar behind her, and Rick brought up the rear.Persephone had disappeared around a bend and I'd turned back to say something to Hebe when I heard the trill, the six or seven notes. When I realized Persephone was no longer in sight I sprinted ahead, splashing through the water. I heard another trill as I rounded the turn, only to stop dead for a moment.A large naked man with a stick in his hand sprang screaming out of nowhere and blocked. But her tall white rescuer pulled her away, and as her distraught mother came running to meet them the brave slipped into the background.During the months and years that followed, her family and John's became close friends. Mr. Mueller, a widower, had staked a claim just to the southeast of town where he would farm. His daughter, Britta, would be the new teacher in the school next year, and his John would help him on the farm. Often Mr. Mueller would come to town and chat with the other men at the mercantile while waiting for Leah's father to fill the order. And just as often, John would accompany him. There, hiding shyly behind the great cracker barrel, Leah would watch as John exchanged news with the other men and boys. Once, John had reached behind the barrel and caught one of her blond braids in his hand. "Look what I've found," he smiled at her. "A little soda cracker." He still called her that sometimes, and it still made her bristle in embarrassment.Leah did not find out who.
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