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Show 9. "Did you see that? God, what luck! I can sell these to the National Geographic!" "Really! How many'd you get?" "Three . . . or four. I don't know. I was so damned nervous. Did you see how they stood there and looked right at me? I wasn't thirty feet away, Stephanie!" He grabbed her in a bear hug and swung her around, crushing her against his camera until she forced him away in self-defense. Then he was off on a dead run back toward the beaver dam. "Come on," he beckoned, "we're just getting started." Stephanie laughed, too, as she ran after him. She liked ol' JD. He got so excited about everything. She couldn't imagine having a dull sort for a brother. JD was the most colorful, interesting, entertaining person she'd ever known. Of course he was a hard driver, she thought, scrambling up on the dam after him. It would be nothing to end the day scratched, bruised and blistered. Already her legs were sending up signals. But she'd been tagging along behind JD for about thirteen years and she didn't intend to miss anything now. The two of them spent most of the day crouching behind the beaver dam. It was at least seventy-five feet long and abandoned, they decided, when no beavers were to be seen. Only a trickle of water escaped to irrigate the green marshy bottom of the clearing. By the tracks and deer runs they knew this was a popular watering hole for game and small critters as well. At mid-afternoon they ate their oranges back in the undergrowth, keeping the sun behind them, hoping still to catch an elk herd before they had to leave. He's getting gloomy, Stephanie thought later as they stirred themselves from their hiding place. A cool breeze had made their parkas feel good again, and when she could no longer distinguish the bright fall colors from the dingy ones she knew they'd soon be heading back to camp. "I'm sorry, JD," she offered as they bundled their food scraps. "I was sure we'd see a whole bunch of them." "A herd," he corrected her, frowning. "A herd, Stephanie." |
