Deadly Waters Read Free Page A

Olivia with sun-browned hands. “My new shipmates and I will be just fine. Won’t we, Ashley?”
    â€œYou bet!”
    Steven said, “Then we’ll see you tonight. Get busy out there, guys—if you make a good catch, the restaurant will cook it for us.”
    From the end of the dock, the four of them waved, watching Steven and Olivia pull away in the car. Once they’d disappeared, Frankie placed her hands on her hips and surveyed the kids. Jack wondered if she could tell that Bridger was unhappy about her being a woman, but if she knew, she didn’t let on. Instead, she began to bark out orders like a real ship’s captain.
    Pointing briskly, she went down the line. “Jack, you load up the rest of the gear that’s right by your feet. Bridger, you take that cooler on board and stow it between the captain’s chair and the gunwale. Ashley, you’re going to get the line off the piling, and when
    I tell you, throw it onto the boat deck and then jump in after it. Don’t wait too long, or the boat’ll get away from you and you’ll end up with an Everglades bath.”
    â€œI’ll untie the boat for her,” Bridger offered.
    â€œNonsense. Ashley’s as agile as a monkey. You handle the cooler, and Ashley will take care of the rest. But first, Bridger, take off those boots!”
    For a moment, Bridger stood stock still, his face reddening slightly to match the red in his plaid cotton shirt. “Why?” he asked.
    â€œNo boots on board! They’ll gouge the deck. If you don’t have any boat shoes with you, like Jack and Ashley are wearing, then you can just stay in your sock feet.”
    Bridger got even redder. Finally, touching the brim of his hat, he said, “Yes, ma’am,” so softly that Jack was sure Frankie hadn’t heard, except that she sent another smile in Bridger’s direction. He sat down to take off his boots.
    Jack jumped down into the Pescadillo . From there he reached up to the dock to pick up the gear, one box at a time, transferring it into the boat. Bridger, still on the dock, lifted the cooler and set the boots on top of it, intending to hold everything while he lowered himself into the boat.
    â€œMaybe you ought to…” Jack began as Bridger put one foot on the boat’s edge, which Frankie had called the gunwale. But Bridger shook his head. He wobbled a little—the cooler was heavy, the boat moved from the dock under the pressure of his foot, and his socks must have felt pretty slippery on the teakwood gunwale.
    Jack halfway reached out to help, but Bridger frowned in concentration, as though this were some kind of athletic competition, and by sheer willpower he could figure out how to balance himself and his heavy load on the narrow rim. And he did. After sizing it all up, he took one more step and then jumped, landing flatfooted in the boat, with his balance and the cooler intact. He didn’t grin in satisfaction, but just gave a short, sharp nod to no one in particular, stowed the cooler beside the captain’s chair, and set his boots alongside a white vinyl bench.
    Out of the corner of her eye, Frankie had watched the whole episode. All she said was, “Hop to it, Ashley. All aboard that’s goin’ aboard.” Ashley undid the line from the cleat on the piling, threw it into the boat, then scrambled quickly after it.
    â€œAll right, crew, line up and get your life jackets,” Frankie ordered. “One per customer—pull them out of the box there.”
    â€œWhat about you, Frankie?” Ashley asked. “You need to wear one too, don’t you?”
    â€œUm…ah…” Frankie hedged, and then said, “Yes, you’re absolutely right. Watch me and you can see how to buckle these things.” After they’d all slipped their arms through the pillowy orange life jackets and fastened the straps, Frankie said, “Now let’s shove off and