Johnny Winchester: River Hunter Read Free Page B

drama over for now,
put down his camera and chipped in.  When the water was hot, Johnny filled
an aluminum cup, put a teabag in it and while it was steeping, he located just
the right rock, set it down by Suzi and put the mug on it.  Then he opened
the Tylenol bottle, shook out three tablets into the lid, and set it by the
mug.
    “There,” he said, “is there anything else I can get
you?”
    “A couple freshly baked, warm, fudge brownies would be
nice.”
    Johnny grinned.  It was the first time she’d seen
him smile and she immediately noticed the sparkle in the blue eyes and the
dimples.  She was a fool for dimples.
    “I’m afraid we ate them all at lunch,” he returned.
    “Well, then, I guess I’ll have to settle for a dramatic
rescue from out of the clutches of death, and some tea,” she said dryly. 
“And,” she added, “ though I don’t want to seem
ungrateful, if the dramatic rescue ends up on YouTube, I will have to hunt you
all down and administer the Gibbs’ head slap.”
    There was a moment of laughter in the camp and Johnny
wondered if the banter had been on purpose, to ease the tension.  It did
not seem likely that someone only a day away from surviving a plane crash,
where apparently three others had died, and consumed with pain could be
concerned with the comfort of others.  But they had been in great need of
a laugh, and Suzi had provided it.
    When the stew (the lack of fishing time and luck meant
they had to rely on a precious can of meat) and the skillet biscuits were done,
bowls were filled all around.  Suzi balanced hers on her lap, wrestling it
with her spoon, coercing it to give up a few morsels at a time, allowing her to
consume them.  All offers of help were refused, but for one that resulted
in a nice layer of melted butter on her biscuit.  Finishing only half of
her stew, she set the bowl on the rock next to her and laid her head back into
the pillows.
    “You didn’t eat very much,” Sam commented.
    “I was really hungry, but now I’m really full.”
    “You’re not quite so pale now,” added Dave.
    “Everything always seems worse on an empty stomach,” she
replied.  “I do feel better.”
    “You just rest for a while.  It will be dark soon
and hopefully you can get a good night’s sleep,” Johnny put in.
    She did just that as the men finished their dinner,
washed the dishes in the river (it was Chip and Dave’s turn to make the trek),
and cleaned up.  The fire was banked and all was made ready for the camp
to turn in for the night, until they realized that Suzi was out in the open and
they could not fit the cot, with her in it, through the tent opening.  A
discussion ensued and once she figured out what the men were talking about, she
spoke up.
    “I get can up,” she said, pushing the top of the
sleeping bag aside and slowly swiveling her legs to put her feet on the
ground.  Protesting, the men tried talking her into lying back down, but
she would have none of it.  Stretching out her right arm, she said, “If
someone would just help me up, I’ll be fine.”
    Pete was closest, so he grasped her forearm in his hand
and pulled her to her feet.  Johnny grabbed the sleeping bag, Dave and Sam
quickly deconstructed the cot and reconstructed it in Johnny’s tent, then Suzi
shuffled slowly to the tent, stooped through the door, and sat down on the
bed.  A thought clouded her eyes.
    “I’m taking your cot,” she observed.  “I hate to do
that.”
    “In my line of work,” Johnny responded, “a cot is a
luxury.  I reckon I’ve slept on the ground more times than in a bed.”
    “Still...” she started.
    “No, no, no.  You will sleep right there and not
worry about me a’tall .”
    “Yes, sir.”
    “Now let’s get you settled,” he said as he lifted her
feet onto the cot, fluffed the pillow, and zipped the sleeping bag.  “We
have plenty more blankets if you get cold.  I’ll be right here next to
you, so just speak to me and I’ll get you