Willow Smoke (46 page)

“Let
him.
You
got
to
be
kidding,”
Daisy
said,
through
clenched
teeth.
“He’s
doing
whatever
the
hell
he
wants
to
do.
Damn,
my
arms
are
tired
already.”

“Relax.
He’ll
tire.
Go
with
him.
But
be
prepared
to
take
up
any
slack
line
in
case
he
decides
to
make
a
run
toward
the
boat.
Here
he
comes.
Reel!”

“Shit,”
Daisy
muttered,
cranking
the
reel handle
as
fast
as
she
could.
Nick
turned
the
canoe,
or
her
fish
would
have
gotten
clean
away.
That
fish
had
to
be
tiring;
when
he
hit
the
end
of
her
line,
she
was
able
to
hold
him
and
turn
him.
Maybe
by
instinct,
maybe
remembering
something
Nick
had
said,
she
began
to
guide
the
fish
back and forth from right to left.

He surfaced some twenty
feet from
the
boat.
Daisy
gasped.
He
was
big.
Bigger
than
anything
she’d
seen
Nick
catch.
She
wanted
to
land
this
fish
more
than
anything
else
at
the
moment.
The
fish jumped
and
then
dove.
Daisy
let
him
take
more
line.
She
sensed
the
fish
weakening;
the
battle
was
won.
By
the
time
she
reeled
the
Northern
up
to
the
canoe,
she
was
as
exhausted
as
the
fish.

“You’ve
got
a
monster,
girl.
Nice
fish.”
Nick’s
voice
was
laced
with
pride.
Leaning
over
carefully,
he
placed
a
gaff
hook
through
the
fish’s
gill
and
lifted
him
into
the
canoe.
He
reached
for
a
paddle.
“We’re
heading
for
shore
before
this
guy
gets
new life. We have supper and
breakfast, at least.”

“Now
that
I
have
some
understanding
of
what
I’m
supposed
to
do,
we’re
quitting?”
Daisy
protested.

“There’ll
be
other
opportunities.
We
don’t
have
a
choice—if
I
put
this
guy
over
the
side,
he’s
going
to
drag
us
across
the
lake.
If
you’re
too
worn
out
to
paddle,
that’s
okay.”

“Oh.”
Daisy
put
her
rod
aside
and
reached
for the paddle. “That was
thrilling. I
never
had
a
clue
what
it
would
be
like
to
catch
a
fish.
Even
watching
you
didn’t
prepare me.”

“Sometimes
you
just
have
to
have
the
experience.”
Nick
steered
the
canoe
toward
shore.
“And
the
next
time
it
will
be
easier.
But
be
prepared.
We
don’t
always
land
them.
This
guy
could
have
gotten
away
several
times,
but
you
did
what
was
needed
to
keep
him
on
without
breaking
the
line.”

Daisy
stepped
onto
the
shore.
She
plopped
down
on
the
bank
before
her
legs
gave
out.
Landing
that
fish had
left
her
depleted. She
let
Nick
pull
the
canoe
out
of
the
water.

“Well
done,
partner,”
he
said,
grinning.
He
hefted
the
Northern
and
grabbed
the
waterproof
camera
he
always
had
handy
when
canoeing.
“Here,
you
hold
the
fish
and
I’ll
record
this
moment
for
posterity.
Cassie
won’t
believe
it
otherwise.”

Daisy
smiled
broadly
with
her
hand
held
high
to
keep
the
fish’s
tail
from
hitting
the
ground.
“His
teeth
sure
look
sharp.”

“Razor
sharp.”
Nick
snapped
a
picture.
“A
couple
more. Like I said before, don’t go
putting
your
fingers
anywhere
near
a
Northern’s
mouth.
That’s
why
we
have
the
long-nosed
hook
remover.”

Tucking
the
camera
back
in
a
waterproof
gear
bag,
Nick
turned
and
asked.
“So
are
you
ready
to
clean
your
catch?”

“No
way!”
Daisy
held
the
fish
out
arms
length.

Nick
laughed.
“All
right.
I’ll
clean
it.
Why
don’t
you
gather
some
wood
for
a
cooking
fire? I’m so hungry I can almost smell the
fish frying.”

“Okay.” Daisy’s stomach
rumbled, but
she
wasn’t
sure
it
was
from
hunger.
She’d
never
eaten
a
fish
she’d
actually
caught.
That
seemed
so
personal.
They’d
developed
a
relationship
in
the
fight.
She’d
felt
the
full
flush
of
victory
when
Nick
hauled
the
fish
over
the
side
of
the
canoe.
Where
had
that
triumphant
feeling
gone?

- o -

“So
are
you
glad
you
came
along?”
Nick
asked.
It
was
their
last
night
on
the
water.

Nick
warmed
at
the
sight
of
Daisy’s
soft
smile. “Yeah,” she admitted, “you
were
right.
This
was
great.
Just
to
know
that
a
place
like
this
exists
is
a
treasure.”

As
she
stared
into
the
fire,
Nick
saw
a
wistfulness
etch
her
frame
as
if
she
were
trying
to
hold
onto
something,
but
knew
she
couldn’t.
Without
looking
at
him,
she
asked,
“So
how
was
it
for
you?
You
found
out
everything
you
needed
to
know
about
the
prototype?”