Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [86]
They passed the rare house or farm. On a flood plane, the area remained relatively undeveloped. The closing of the locks from Versailles and Salvisa all the way through to Heidelberg had effectively broken the river into small strips, isolating them. Not as picturesque as the Cumberland area, this still had an untouched natural look. The river snaked through the high limestone cliffs, finally widening into a broad, fertile plane, bordered by tall wooded ridges all dressed in the fire of autumnal reds, oranges and yellows.
As the dam came into view, Liam throttled back. Lowering the boat to a speed that just kept it from being swept downriver, he moved closer to the falls, so that Jago and Netta got the full impact. It was a deceptive weir, the last timber-crib dam and all-stone lock to be constructed on the Kentucky River, built three feet higher than the other thirteen.
“In deep summer the level gets so low there’s no water over the weir. Men often sit on it and fish. However, it’s not a place to fool around. A man tried to cross it several years back, and was swept over and drowned,” Asha said. While it appeared smaller than in her childhood memories, her awe and respect, maybe fear, of the dam remained stark in her mind.
“They concreted the gates closed?” Jago asked, frowning.
She nodded. “Closer up to the structure, you can see its poor condition. It was built at the end of the century and opened in the autumn of 1900. The Army Corps of Engineers still owns them, but it’s clear they’re not maintaining these complexes. Locks 1 through 4 are still kept up. The rest either are welded shut or, like this one, have the gates blocked with a concrete barrier.”
Turning the boat, Liam maneuvered to the beach just below the waterfall. “Jago, if you’ll take the wheel—just hold it steady while I tie it off.”
Her brother opened the trap in the windshield and climbed the steps to reach the long bow. Uncoiling a blue nylon rope, he held the end and jumped to the white sands. He looped it securely around a limb of a tree at the edge, and then signaled Jago to cut the engine and drop anchor.
Netta looked around, unmoved, first at the massive edifice, which even from a distance showed its century-old age, and then to the murky water. “This is what we just got our brains beat to death at 60 mph for? That thing is ready to collapse! Now I have to wade in water that could be a questionable health hazard to get to the sand? I’m so underwhelmed. We could’ve stayed at the lodge and played splashy-splash in the nice clean pool under the falls.”
“But the boys couldn’t drive the boat if we did that,” Asha pointed out with a chuckle.
Liam tightened the rope so it was stable and held out his hand. “Stop your grumbling. You don’t have to wade in the possible biohazard water. You can jump into my arms and I shall catch you.”
“Oooh, I get to jump your bones! This might prove interesting after all.” Netta winked at Asha, then undid the buckles on her neoprene lifejacket. “This ugly yellow does nothing for my complexion. Must’ve been designed by a man. A woman would’ve had a better fashion sense.”
She accepted Jago’s hand to help her up the two steps to the bow. Being the perfect gentleman, he aided her across the rocking boat, and then to jump into Liam’s strong arms. Netta squealed in delight as she was caught and he swung her playfully around in the air.
Jago turned and held out his hand to help Asha next.
“You guys go on and gather the wood for a fire and get it started. Since our ride took a bit longer than anticipated”—Asha glared at both men—“I’m snagging a Pepsi and then will fix the shish kebabs so we can cook them over the fire. I’m starving and want lunch. If I don