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company, something neither of them would wish. Yet duty demanded it.

    He checked the thin leather loop that held his pistol secure in its carefully designed sheath.

    The first few steps on the ropes weren’t too bad. But once he’d worked his way out to over the roaring flood, the bridge swayed wildly.

    “Take smaller steps,” Zeke shouted from the bank. Only one man could cross the rope bridge at a time so the others watched.

    It did help to take short, careful steps but each one required looking down at one’s feet.
    The muddy water swirled and rushed below him at what was surely four times its usual summer depth.

    He paused and looked downstream. Less than half a mile to the east, the river dumped its load over a cliff and beyond sight it would join the sea. The rugged terrain and treacherous riverbank prevented any close exploration of the cataract. He heard the waterfall as a distant growl so powerful it spoke louder than the roar of the river below his feet.

    Halfway across, he caught the rhythm of walking the ropes. He glanced at the far bank and saw most of the party had moved closer to the bank and watched him approach. Cara stood in the shadows of one of the thick trees anchoring the bridge ropes. She looked thinner than ONE GOOD WOMAN SUSAN KELLEY 10
    ever, almost frail. He was close enough to see the frown on her face. No surprise there but she seemed to be looking up the stream and not at him.

    Her hand dropped to her sword and she ran toward him. She stopped at her end of the bridge and shouted at him. He couldn’t hear but followed her gesture to look up stream.

    A tree barreled toward him, half submerged perhaps, but the part riding on top of the river poked higher into the sky than his head. It would take out the bridge and him along with it if he didn’t get off of it. But the bridge wasn’t designed for rapid transit. He had no choice but to continue with measured steps.

    He wasn’t going to make it. More people joined Cara in shouted encouragement. The closer he was to shore before the tree tore out the bridge, the better his chances of swimming to safety. Could even his excellent swimming skills match the strength of the river?

    The sun broke through the chilly fog so the ropes sparkled with the moisture caught on them. The sudden glare nearly blinded him.

    He squinted and glanced up river. Something struck him in the head and flipped him off the bridge. Gritty water filled his mouth as he went under.

    * * * *

    The tree snagged for the space of a breath on the bridge and then tore free. Ropes snapped, branches cracked, and the uprooted giant swept over Brady. Cara glimpsed his light brown shirt for one dreadful moment before he was pushed under the dark waters.

    She raced along the riverbank, keeping pace with the tree which again hesitated as one of the trailing ropes from the bridge caught on something unseen beneath the frothing water.
    Brady’s hand and then his head appeared on the far side of the trunk. He pulled his torso out of the water. Blood ran from his temple in a brilliant scarlet ribbon in sharp contrast to the colorless river. He looked at her with dazed eyes for a moment, but the tree broke loose and careened toward the narrow gorge leading to the waterfall.

    “No!” The roar of river and cataract drowned her scream and those from behind her.

    She ran forward, her lungs afire as she jumped over rocks, bushes, and a downed sapling.
    Each obstacle put her further behind Brady. The tree rolled part way over and he went under for a moment before crawling back to the surface. She tripped over something and scrambled quickly to her feet. The bank held ever more obstacles and many more than she could negotiate quickly.

    She took a deep breath and ran the few steps toward the river. She dove toward the tree.
    The water slapped her body at the same time cold reality slapped her senses. What was she doing? She splashed awkwardly and kicked her legs. Her hand touched a