distance, stood on a ledge, bleating forlornly.
“It’s a bull,” Steve said. “Look at its horns.”
“Mexican cows have horns,” Carmen told him. “She’s been up there a couple months.”
“How did she get there?” Lori demanded. “This is nowhere and you can’t get here from anywhere.”
“We had a lot of high water in February and she must have fallen in the river and gotten carried into the canyon. We find cows in here once in a while,” Carmen said.
“The water couldn’t have been that high,” Anna said, staring at the poor creature marooned halfway between heaven and earth.
“See the ledge? She keeps going up farther and farther to get food,” Carmen said. “Every time I come through she’s worked her way up a little more.”
“Why doesn’t it thirst to death?” Steve asked.
“She eats the cholla. There’s enough water in the cactus to keep her alive.”
“Why doesn’t she just walk back down?” Chrissie asked, sounding slightly annoyed at the cow for making such a fuss of its predicament.
“No incentive, I guess,” Carmen replied. “The food behind her has already been eaten.”
“That and the fact she has cow brains for brains,” Steve said.
“Pull in,” Anna demanded suddenly. “Beach the raft.” She began to paddle hard. The trip was a leisurely one, the outfitters making a three-day adventure out of a twenty-mile trip that a canoeist could easily do in a day, and Carmen was in no hurry. She helped steer the raft onto the rocky shore. Anna and Steve were out first, pulling it from the water.
Anna had no idea what she was doing, only that they couldn’t float by, snapping pictures at the tormented soul on the cliff face. She couldn’t stop the man she had killed from stalking her in nightmares. She could not stem the tide of evils flooding from man’s cruelty. She couldn’t save the women in the Sudan. Some days she despaired of saving herself from a darkness that seemed to be encroaching from all sides. But surely, God dammit, she could save one poor pathetic cow.
If she couldn’t save it, she wouldn’t pass it by, leave the poor thing to be pointed out to more tourists as it crept ever higher, grew ever thinner, cried ever more weakly until, finally, death came as a blessing and the guides in passing canoes and rafts pointed out the vultures gathering on the high ledge where Easter was served as an alfresco luncheon.
“We have to get the cow down.” Anna was not asking for permission or discussion. She was issuing an order.
“Yes!” Cyril said, pumping the air with her fist in an overused gesture, the origin of which was mostly forgotten.
“We become vaqueros, mis amigas ,” Steve said. “To the rescue. What a trip!”
“How?” Chrissie nearly whined.
Lori said nothing.
Paul looked alarmed and Anna knew it was not for the cow or for himself. He hated it when she put herself in danger. He was old school. When they walked together in the street, he walked on the outside so marauding automobiles would have to go through him before they could lay a bumper on his wife.
“It’s been done,” Carmen said speculatively. “I don’t know about getting cows off cliffs, but I know a few have been rafted out of the canyon. The river district ranger, Fred Martinez, took one out last spring.”
“How much line have we got?” Anna asked the guide.
Paul groaned. “Oh Lord, there’s two of you. You and Anna. You two are going to scale a cliff to rescue two hundred pounds of hamburger, aren’t you?” He put both hands over his face.
“You can stay here,” Anna offered.
He looked at her in exasperation. “Right. Like I would do that while you bull-wrestle on a cliff ledge.”
“Three or four hundred feet,” Carmen said. “We carry extra.”
“For cows?” Lori asked, sounding both amazed and appalled.
“For whatever,” Carmen said.
“Anna, did I not hear you say once that free climbing was a fool’s sport?” Paul asked.
“We
“It’s a bull,” Steve said. “Look at its horns.”
“Mexican cows have horns,” Carmen told him. “She’s been up there a couple months.”
“How did she get there?” Lori demanded. “This is nowhere and you can’t get here from anywhere.”
“We had a lot of high water in February and she must have fallen in the river and gotten carried into the canyon. We find cows in here once in a while,” Carmen said.
“The water couldn’t have been that high,” Anna said, staring at the poor creature marooned halfway between heaven and earth.
“See the ledge? She keeps going up farther and farther to get food,” Carmen said. “Every time I come through she’s worked her way up a little more.”
“Why doesn’t it thirst to death?” Steve asked.
“She eats the cholla. There’s enough water in the cactus to keep her alive.”
“Why doesn’t she just walk back down?” Chrissie asked, sounding slightly annoyed at the cow for making such a fuss of its predicament.
“No incentive, I guess,” Carmen replied. “The food behind her has already been eaten.”
“That and the fact she has cow brains for brains,” Steve said.
“Pull in,” Anna demanded suddenly. “Beach the raft.” She began to paddle hard. The trip was a leisurely one, the outfitters making a three-day adventure out of a twenty-mile trip that a canoeist could easily do in a day, and Carmen was in no hurry. She helped steer the raft onto the rocky shore. Anna and Steve were out first, pulling it from the water.
Anna had no idea what she was doing, only that they couldn’t float by, snapping pictures at the tormented soul on the cliff face. She couldn’t stop the man she had killed from stalking her in nightmares. She could not stem the tide of evils flooding from man’s cruelty. She couldn’t save the women in the Sudan. Some days she despaired of saving herself from a darkness that seemed to be encroaching from all sides. But surely, God dammit, she could save one poor pathetic cow.
If she couldn’t save it, she wouldn’t pass it by, leave the poor thing to be pointed out to more tourists as it crept ever higher, grew ever thinner, cried ever more weakly until, finally, death came as a blessing and the guides in passing canoes and rafts pointed out the vultures gathering on the high ledge where Easter was served as an alfresco luncheon.
“We have to get the cow down.” Anna was not asking for permission or discussion. She was issuing an order.
“Yes!” Cyril said, pumping the air with her fist in an overused gesture, the origin of which was mostly forgotten.
“We become vaqueros, mis amigas ,” Steve said. “To the rescue. What a trip!”
“How?” Chrissie nearly whined.
Lori said nothing.
Paul looked alarmed and Anna knew it was not for the cow or for himself. He hated it when she put herself in danger. He was old school. When they walked together in the street, he walked on the outside so marauding automobiles would have to go through him before they could lay a bumper on his wife.
“It’s been done,” Carmen said speculatively. “I don’t know about getting cows off cliffs, but I know a few have been rafted out of the canyon. The river district ranger, Fred Martinez, took one out last spring.”
“How much line have we got?” Anna asked the guide.
Paul groaned. “Oh Lord, there’s two of you. You and Anna. You two are going to scale a cliff to rescue two hundred pounds of hamburger, aren’t you?” He put both hands over his face.
“You can stay here,” Anna offered.
He looked at her in exasperation. “Right. Like I would do that while you bull-wrestle on a cliff ledge.”
“Three or four hundred feet,” Carmen said. “We carry extra.”
“For cows?” Lori asked, sounding both amazed and appalled.
“For whatever,” Carmen said.
“Anna, did I not hear you say once that free climbing was a fool’s sport?” Paul asked.
“We
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