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By Root 944 0

green propane tanks, two large blue tarps, a tent, a spinning reel along with a few Beetle Spins, and whatever else I could carry. Opening the glass of the display case, I lifted a small waterproof handheld Garmin GPS unit. The GPS used satellites to locate position. I didn’t grab it to tell me where I was, although it would do that within about three feet. I knew the river well enough. But I needed it to tell me how far we’d traveled and distance to future points. It would help me plan breaks, overnights and help me anticipate shelter. The problem with the river, even for someone like me, is that it is constantly changing. And in changing, it can look different with little notice. Also, with the tidal influence we’d encounter at Trader’s Hill, it would be nearly impossible to judge how fast we were traveling and, as a result, how far we’d traveled. Two miles an hour makes a world of difference. Lastly, the more tired I became, and I was sure I would, the less I’d be able to judge speed or distance. The GPS would guard against that.

Gus picked up on my shopping and began laying a few things on the countertop that he thought I might need. He scratched his chin. “You going to the sound?”

I nodded.

“You going alone?”

I looked at the car and shrugged.

About that time, somebody knocked on the front door. Gus frowned, and spoke to himself. “It’s the middle of the night.” He stared through the door and saw two men standing in the shadows. He hollered through the glass, “We’re closed.”

The first man spoke up. “Don’t look like it.”

Gus smiled. “Why don’t you come back tomorrow morning? We’re doing inventory.”

The second man pressed his face to the glass. “We’re going gigging and just needed a few things. Wondered if you could help us out.”

Gus glanced at the computer screen where the radar showed Annie swirling herself into a spinning red mess. He looked at me. “If they knew what they were doing, it’d be a good time to go gigging, with the change in the barometer and all, but I got a feeling these guys don’t know the first thing about gigging.” He shrugged and waved. “Sorry fellows. I just work here. Good luck to you.”

Gus turned and walked into his office. One fellow gave him the finger while the other limped to their Tahoe. When he opened the door and stepped into the driver’s seat, it looked like two other guys sat in the backseat. We were entering hurricane season and it would not be uncommon for four down-on-their-luck losers to see opportunity in the aftermath of a hurricane.

They disappeared out the drive while Gus reappeared from his office. He laid two items on the counter. Gus had never been an alarmist, but he’d lived in these woods a long time. This was not his first rodeo. He was a realist, and as a result, I suppose I was, too. “You’re liable to bump into more than just snakes out there.” The first was a Smith & Wesson model 22-4. A revolver with fixed sights, chambered in .45 ACP. The second was a Remington 870 twelve gauge with an eighteen-inch barrel. Which needed no explanation. I grabbed both along with a few boxes of shells.

“Thanks.” On the wall of his office hung an oil on canvas piece that I’d made nearly a decade ago. It was a Christmas gift—a way of saying thanks. I’d painted it from the perspective of someone just poking their head up through the water, looking up. Gus was sitting in a kayak, smiling, paddle in hand, mid-stroke. He was at home there. I suppose we both were. The picture depicted movement and the creases in his cheeks suggested a deep-down easiness that came with a paddle. I had named it The Paddler’s High.

He nodded at the picture of himself. “People ask me about that all the time. Want to know if I’ll sell it.”

“What do you tell them?”

“Not yet.”

“What’re they offering you?”

“Let’s just say I could pay cash for one of those new Ford diesels.”

“Take the money.”

He stared into the painting. “No. I think I’ll hold on to it awhile.”

Arms full, I tucked the holstered pistol behind my back, threw everything into the back of the Jeep, then made one last pass through the store.