into the second.
After a few more passes, she had put down three more markers. They formed a meandering path toward the big gray boulder where she and Sam had picnicked.
Moving in a zigzag pattern with the dowsing rod held firmly in her hands, she slowly snaked her way toward the huge outcropping suspended at the edge of the crest. Her boots slipped and slid on the uneven, rock-strewn ground.
The quiver of the branch grew to a shimmy. The shimmy became a shake.
Vibrations from the rod were soon like powerful spasms that shook her arms and shoulders. Slowly the agitated limb began to turn in her hands. Hardly able to contain her mounting excitement, Max fought to keep the tip upright, but the willow bark twisted off in her fists as the branch writhed like something alive and the tip convulsed downward.
She let out a whoop as she dropped the branch and flung her arms in the air. “Hot dog, there’s water here! I knew it. I knew it. I knew it!”
Dowser barked and came running to where she was laughing and dancing around on the edge of the steep incline. Tears mingled with laughter as she jumped up and down, squealing with joy. “Water! I found it! I found it!”
Dowser’s whole rear end was wiggling as he joined in the game, barking and leaping up to lick his mistress’s face. Suddenly, Max was thrown back as the big Doberman made an exuberant lunge, and the loose rock gave way under her foot.
Arms flailing in a desperate attempt to grab something to break her fall, she tumbled down the craggy slope.
Jagged rocks and thorny growth ripped at her clothes and skin as she slid. Frantic, she clutched and clawed, trying to seize a handhold. Her arm hooked around something and she grabbed it with her left hand. A scream of pain tore from her throat as the sharp spines of a prickly pear cactus sank into the soft fiesh of her palm.
She held on.
For a moment she lay still, face down in the dusty gravel, fighting the nausea flooding over her in waves. When she had battled it down, she looked around her, assessing her predicament. A scrub oak grew from a crevice only inches from her right hand. She reached for it, and when she held a thick branch firmly in her grasp, she let go of the cactus. Looking up, she saw that, even though it had seemed like miles, she’d only fallen a few feet. Dowser stood on the gray boulder whimpering, staring down at her.
“I’m okay, boy. I’m okay.” She hardly recognized the shaky croak that came from her throat. Moving her arms and legs, she decided that nothing was broken. Just scratched and scraped. And her hand was full of cactus spines.
Beyond the stunted oak, the incline was less steep. Using the limbs of the tree, she carefully made her way a few feet across the pitted hillside until she could climb to the top.
Cradling her left hand against her body, she patted Dowser who stood waiting, quivering like a willow branch. She couldn’t scold him; she was quivering just as badly.
After a few deep breaths, she examined her hand. Scraped and swollen, it was full of cactus spines. And it hurt like hell.
She swiped at her dirty, sweaty face with her torn sleeve. Her dowsing was over for the day at least. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to confirm her finding and estimate depth. Knees trembling, she walked over to her toolbag and picked up a ribboned spad. Awkwardly using one hand and her feet, she drove the marker into the final spot.
When she stepped back to watch the red plastic ribbon flutter in the breeze, she managed a feeble smile.
“I found it, Sam,” she whispered. “By damn, I found it.”
Chapter 4
Still riding an adrenaline high over her find. Max headed back to the cottage. Even with her excitement to buoy her, driving was awkward and difficult. Her throbbing hand, full of cactus spines, was practically useless, and something crept into her mind, bringing more discomfort.
Why had her first thoughts been of Sam when she’d marked the vein? She didn’t
After a few more passes, she had put down three more markers. They formed a meandering path toward the big gray boulder where she and Sam had picnicked.
Moving in a zigzag pattern with the dowsing rod held firmly in her hands, she slowly snaked her way toward the huge outcropping suspended at the edge of the crest. Her boots slipped and slid on the uneven, rock-strewn ground.
The quiver of the branch grew to a shimmy. The shimmy became a shake.
Vibrations from the rod were soon like powerful spasms that shook her arms and shoulders. Slowly the agitated limb began to turn in her hands. Hardly able to contain her mounting excitement, Max fought to keep the tip upright, but the willow bark twisted off in her fists as the branch writhed like something alive and the tip convulsed downward.
She let out a whoop as she dropped the branch and flung her arms in the air. “Hot dog, there’s water here! I knew it. I knew it. I knew it!”
Dowser barked and came running to where she was laughing and dancing around on the edge of the steep incline. Tears mingled with laughter as she jumped up and down, squealing with joy. “Water! I found it! I found it!”
Dowser’s whole rear end was wiggling as he joined in the game, barking and leaping up to lick his mistress’s face. Suddenly, Max was thrown back as the big Doberman made an exuberant lunge, and the loose rock gave way under her foot.
Arms flailing in a desperate attempt to grab something to break her fall, she tumbled down the craggy slope.
Jagged rocks and thorny growth ripped at her clothes and skin as she slid. Frantic, she clutched and clawed, trying to seize a handhold. Her arm hooked around something and she grabbed it with her left hand. A scream of pain tore from her throat as the sharp spines of a prickly pear cactus sank into the soft fiesh of her palm.
She held on.
For a moment she lay still, face down in the dusty gravel, fighting the nausea flooding over her in waves. When she had battled it down, she looked around her, assessing her predicament. A scrub oak grew from a crevice only inches from her right hand. She reached for it, and when she held a thick branch firmly in her grasp, she let go of the cactus. Looking up, she saw that, even though it had seemed like miles, she’d only fallen a few feet. Dowser stood on the gray boulder whimpering, staring down at her.
“I’m okay, boy. I’m okay.” She hardly recognized the shaky croak that came from her throat. Moving her arms and legs, she decided that nothing was broken. Just scratched and scraped. And her hand was full of cactus spines.
Beyond the stunted oak, the incline was less steep. Using the limbs of the tree, she carefully made her way a few feet across the pitted hillside until she could climb to the top.
Cradling her left hand against her body, she patted Dowser who stood waiting, quivering like a willow branch. She couldn’t scold him; she was quivering just as badly.
After a few deep breaths, she examined her hand. Scraped and swollen, it was full of cactus spines. And it hurt like hell.
She swiped at her dirty, sweaty face with her torn sleeve. Her dowsing was over for the day at least. She’d have to wait until tomorrow to confirm her finding and estimate depth. Knees trembling, she walked over to her toolbag and picked up a ribboned spad. Awkwardly using one hand and her feet, she drove the marker into the final spot.
When she stepped back to watch the red plastic ribbon flutter in the breeze, she managed a feeble smile.
“I found it, Sam,” she whispered. “By damn, I found it.”
Chapter 4
Still riding an adrenaline high over her find. Max headed back to the cottage. Even with her excitement to buoy her, driving was awkward and difficult. Her throbbing hand, full of cactus spines, was practically useless, and something crept into her mind, bringing more discomfort.
Why had her first thoughts been of Sam when she’d marked the vein? She didn’t
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