The Deader the Better by G. M. Ford Read Free Book Online Page B

of
years he’s the most popular guide in the area. Booked months in
advance. Making a good living. Meets Claudia at an Outdoor Show in
the Kingdome. Love at first sight. She moves over to Richland to be
near him just about the time he applies to the state of Montana for a
guide license on the Yellowstone River. The state, of course, informs
him that they have a waiting list of six-thousand-someodd souls who
want the same thing and that his only chance would be to pay his
five-hundred-dollar fee for the right to take part in the annual
lottery. Seems one guide license per year is awarded to the lucky so
and so whose name is drawn from the barrel. Proceeds go to fish
habitat management. A good deal all around. He sends his dough. First
year, damned if he doesn’t win. “God protects fools and drunks,”
he’d told me with a twinkle. He and Claudia get married. Move to
Montana. Takes him a full year to learn the river. After that, same
deal. Booked one hundred percent of the time. Two years in advance.
Making more money following his dream than he ever imagined possible.
Five years of guiding European royalty, pro athletes, Hollywood stars
and, for a week in ’, former president George Bush. And…Two kids
change everything. J.D.’s mom and dad want to be able to see their
grandkids more often. Start a low-key propaganda campaign. No way
he’s moving back to eastern Washington, so they compromise. Agree
on western Washington. Parents retire and move to this side of the
Cascades. Somewhere up by Marysville. J.D. and Claudia and the kids
move back from Montana.
    That’s when I met him. That rainy Thanksgiving Day right after
they’d moved back to Washington. When I asked him how he felt about
giving up fishing heaven to come back and be nearer the family, he
took off his glasses and began to polish the lenses with a tissue.
“Never thought I’d hear myself say this,” he mused, “but a
man can only catch so many fish and use so much money, and you
know…there’s some things in life just more important than
fishing.” Said he was shopping for a piece of property over on the
Olympic Peninsula. Something on one of the rivers where he could set
up a destination fishing lodge. With more than a little envy, I’d
wished him luck.
    I was having trouble keeping my eyes open. Felt like fine sand
under my eyelids. I checked the door to make sure it was locked and
then leaned my head against the window. Closed my eyes and dreamed of
the way the line stops and then the first tug and then pictures of
enormous silver fish, tail-walking across broken water.
    I woke up when she shut the engine off. By the time I’d blinked
myself into focus, Rebecca was out of the car, standing in front of
an orange-and-white-striped barrier. I got out, stretched, allowed
myself a yawn and wandered her way.
    “Problem?” I inquired.
    “It says the bridge is closed for repairs until further notice.”
    “So?”
    She turned to face me. “We’re at the end of the road. My
directions to Claudia and J.D.’s place say to go over this bridge.”
    She was right. We were indeed at the proverbial end of the road.
You either turned left over the bridge or you turned around.
    “How far back was the last town?”
    “Five or six miles.”
    “Guess we’ll have to go back and ask.”
    When she headed for the car, I got my first good look at the
barrier. Not the usual sawhorse barrier made ominous by bright orange
signs. No, no…this was a welded steel security gate, custom made to
lock directly to the bridge abutments. Both sides. Top and bottom.
Big stainless steel chains. They really didn’t want anybody using
that bridge. I didn’t get much of a chance to think about it. The
notice said the bridge had been declared unsafe by City Inspector
Emmett Polster. Behind me the Explorer started. I hustled over, got
in and fastened my seatbelt.
    The road back to town was newly paved, still smelling of oil, with
only an intermittent series of yellow dots to