Deadly Waters (6 page)

Ashley pounded her fist into her thigh. “We can't let the manatee die. We
saved
her.”

“You're right.” Without another word, Bridger grabbed Jack's fishing pole. With a cannonball splash, he jumped into the water, his hand clutching his pole above his head like a sword. “Go! Get out of here!” he cried, smacking the fishing pole into the water.

For a moment, Jack stood frozen, unable to believe that Bridger was risking his life. “Bridger—are you crazy?” he yelled.

“Animals are afraid of people,” Bridger hollered back. “You've got to show 'em who's boss. Like bustin' a bull.”

“Get out! It's not worth it!”

With a whiplike motion, Bridger beat at the water. The shark's attention was drawn to Bridger; instead of leaving, it moved closer. Its back barely skimmed the surface.

“Yeehaw!” Bridger screamed, hitting the bull shark squarely on the nose. “Git!”

“I'm going to help him—” Ashley began, rising to her feet.

“Like heck you are!” Jack grabbed her arm, pulling her back onto her bottom. “
No!
”

“Let go of me, Jack. I said,
let go!
” She tried to wrench her arm free, but Jack held on tight. There was no way he could let his sister go into such deadly waters. If anyone was going to help Bridger, it ought to be Jack, but if he joined the watery battle, he knew Ashley would be right behind him. No, he had to stay and keep his sister safe. There was a line between bravery and stupidity.

Bellowing, “Get outa here, you ol' shark,” Bridger smacked the water, again and again, hollering cowboy-sounding cries that rose up into the mangrove forest, where screeching, cawing birds joined the racket. It was no wonder Jack missed the sound of the motor. Frankie's boat was rounding the bend.

“S
o all the way back in the boat,” Ashley went on, rubbing a hotel towel through her freshly washed hair, “Frankie kept saying, ‘What are your parents going to think of me, letting you kids get into so much trouble?' And we told her it wasn't her fault. 'Cause, honest, Mom and Dad, Frankie told us we were supposed to stay put at the Watson Place. Which we did, sort of, except we went into the water right in front of the Watson Place—and for sure, Frankie would never expect that we'd do that—”

“That's right,” Jack added. “She just wanted us to be able to fish instead of going all the way back to the ranger station with the pelican—”

“Stop!” Steven raised his hand, palm forward. “We're not blaming Frankie, not in the least. And we understand what you kids were trying to do with that manatee. You were trying to be helpful. Brave.”

“Absolutely,” Olivia agreed, looking around at Jack, Ashley, and Bridger. The five of them were clustered in Steven and Olivia's worn motel room, which had been scrubbed clean for so many years the linoleum seemed almost transparent. A round table, topped with fake wood, had been plunked into one end of the room where Steven and Bridger sat. Olivia and Ashley were perched on one of the queen-size beds, while Jack sat cross-legged on the other.

“Really brave,” Olivia went on. “You saw the manatee injured, and its baby, and you did everything in your power to try to save them. What you need to understand is that the three of you did everything exactly—”

Jack was nodding, pleased that his parents understood and approved.

“—wrong,” Olivia finished.

Ashley dropped the towel, her dark, wet hair as tangled as the mangrove roots. Bridger, who'd been sprawled in one of the green vinyl chairs, suddenly pulled himself up, as stiff and straight as if his back had been glued to a board.

“What?”

“You three did everything exactly wrong,” Olivia repeated.

“I don't get it. Do you mean,” Jack asked slowly, “the part about going in the water with the shark?” He hoped that was all his mother was talking about. But Olivia shook her head no.

“I mean all of it. I know you were trying to help, but you need to learn a few things about the manatees. For one thing, there's a law, called the Marine Mammal Protection Act, that prohibits anyone from even touching a manatee. You tried to lift that mother manatee to the surface. Even though your intentions were good, you were breaking the law.”

“Are they going to arrest us?” Ashley asked, wide-eyed.

“No, no, no,” Olivia answered quickly. “No one's coming after you. I just want you to understand the reason that law was passed. Human contact stresses the animals really badly.”

“You may not think so, but that manatee would have managed OK without you,” Steven told them. “Instead, you three must have almost given that poor thing a heart attack.”

For a moment it was quiet enough to hear the straining of the air conditioner, which clicked and whirred as it tried to cool the small room. Stone-faced, Bridger studied his damp cowboy boots. He seemed as deflated by Steven's words as Jack was. Maybe more, because during the entire boat ride back, Ashley had babbled on and on about how incredibly awesome Bridger was, and how cool he'd been to fight for the manatee.

Bridger leaned forward, his fists on his knees. “What about the shark? You sayin' it would have been better to let that thing eat the baby manatee?”

“Yeah, right. What about the shark?” Ashley agreed. “Sharks are bad. I hate them.”

“Whoa, now, wait just a minute. There are no bad animals, just animals with different jobs to do,” Steven stated. From his day in the sun, his face had been burned to a red gold, making his blue eyes even more startling. “Every link in the food chain has a right to be there.

Even the shark.”

“Absolutely.” Olivia nodded. “But more important is the fact that the shark would have left that manatee alone. They don't eat manatees. In fact, manatees have no natural enemies, except, of course, humans. What I'm trying to say is that the shark wasn't interested in the manatee—it was interested in you.”

“Us?” Ashley squeaked.

“Yes. You kids were actually drawing the shark to the scene. Every time you smacked the water, the shark got more and more interested. Sharks' sensors detect movement, so noise and commotion attract them.”

Jack felt his stomach sink. He'd thought—well, it didn't matter what he'd thought; he'd been wrong. They'd botched the manatee rescue, and worse, Bridger had risked his own life for nothing.

“Wow,” Ashley said, flopping backward on the bed, her eyes searching the ceiling. With her knees bent toward him, Jack could see the scrape marks the rough dock had left, like a starburst of scabs on her skin.

“That shark would have been long gone except for the fact that you kids kept harassing it. And Bridger”—Olivia's voice turned sharp—“getting into the water was about as foolish a thing as you could have done. Most sharks are actually timid, but Frankie said the one you tangled with was a seven-foot bull shark. She got a good look at it when her boat chased it away.”

“The most cantankerous shark in the Everglades, and you take the animal on,” Steven told Bridger, his voice low. “What you did was not only extremely dangerous, it was foolhardy.”

“Yes, sir,” Bridger said stiffly.

“Never assume that because you understand how one animal behaves, you can figure out another. A bull shark is nothing like a bull. You could have paid a big price for your heroics, Bridger. Do you understand?” Steven's eyes narrowed, but at the same time, he reached his hand across the table and rested it on top of Bridger's.

“Yes, sir, I do.” Steven's hand was there only an instant before Bridger pulled away.

“Well, then, let's all go get some dinner,” Steven said, his voice lightening. “Bridger, your boots look pretty soaked. I have an extra pair of sandals. Want to borrow them?”

“No, sir.” Bridger shook his head.

At dusk, Everglades City lit up like a small jewel. Olivia decided that since the restaurant was only a few blocks away, and the night was crystal clear, they should walk to dinner. Everyone agreed except Bridger, who said nothing. He hadn't spoken much at all after the discussion about the shark.

Even though the air conditioners in their motel rooms were ancient, they'd done their job well enough to make the outside air feel shocking. It was as though Jack had stepped into a sauna. The heat made them walk slowly along the dirt walkway: Olivia, Steven, and Ashley in front, Jack and Bridger in the rear.

Tiny stores dotted the main road, their windows glowing from lights inside that made them look friendly. Beside one of them, Jack paused and pretended to look through the glass at some comic books on a display rack. Tugging Bridger's arm, he whispered, “Hey, hold up a minute. What's wrong?”

“Nothin'.” Bridger hardly slowed down.

Hurrying to catch up, Jack asked. “You sure? Come on. You can tell me.”

Bridger turned his head halfway for a quick glance at Jack, as if deciding whether it was worth answering. “OK,” he said, “it's just—”

“Just what?”

“Frankie trusted me, and I screwed up.” He kept walking, hands in pockets, staring down at the path in front of him.

“Hey, Bridger, it's not your fault. You didn't know about sharks and manatees. I didn't, either.”

“But I was in charge.”

Through the rest of the walk, Jack tried to persuade Bridger not to blame himself, but Bridger just clammed up and kept shaking his head.

“Here's where we're going to eat,” Steven called back. “Right there.” The Captain's Table Restaurant hovered against the water's edge. As the five of them made their way toward the carved wooden doors, a swarm of mosquitoes covered them like a black mist.

“They're in my hair!” Ashley cried. “Jack, there's a bunch of them on your back.” Bridger swatted his cowboy hat through the air, while Steven smacked at his own neck with loud slaps.

“These are awful!” Olivia said, yanking open the door and hurrying the rest of them inside.

A plump woman, her pale eyes lined with indigo blue, greeted them with a knowing smile. “Welcome to The Captain's Table. Skeeters got ya, huh? Here in the Everglades, we consider the mosquiter our state bird. In the old days, houses had a skeeter room where people could brush them off so they didn't drag the critters through the rest of the house, but we don't have rooms like that anymore.” She gave a light laugh, then ushered the Landons and Bridger around a corner and into the main dining hall.

The feeling of phantom mosquitoes on his skin made Jack itch all over, even though he knew nothing was on him, and even though he wasn't the one mosquitoes usually feasted on. Imagine needing a special room in your house to debug yourself! He was just deciding he would never want to live in a place like Everglades City when he noticed the restaurant's wall of glass windows, with the sun setting behind them.

A blazing ball of gold burnished a sky streaked with bronze and amber, and lit waves that looked as if a giant brush had been dipped in glitter and then painted across the horizon. Luminous colors sparkled in a pattern of light and dark, moving and shimmering, while boats bobbed at the pier, their masts cutting into the sky like church spires. Palm trees thrust dark silhouettes against the rosy dusk—the whole scene took Jack's breath away. Suddenly, a few bug bites in exchange for this spectacular view seemed a small price to pay.

“I'll sit you right by the windows so you can watch the sunset,” the woman said, handing them their menus. “Enjoy your dinner, folks.”

Jack couldn't be bothered to read the menu, not with this beauty in front of him. If only he'd had his camera, he could have captured the spectacular scene on film. The thought made his chest ache.

“What's the matter, Jack?” Olivia asked. “You look like you're ready to—”

She was probably going to say “cry,” but caught herself in time so she wouldn't embarrass Jack in front of Bridger.

“I was thinking about my camera being stolen.”

“Oh. Well, I told you insurance should cover it, honey. What a day you kids had—first a thief, then a manatee, then a shark!”

Steven unrolled his linen napkin and set his silverware to the side of his plate. “You know, I think the part about that man stealing your camera was the strangest of all. I don't think there's much chance of finding him. How low can you get, stealing from a kid?”

“Bridger tried to tell Jack not to hand over the camera to the man, but Jack did, anyway,” Ashley said. “Huh, Bridger?”

Bridger's voice was flat. “I guess.”

Jack looked out the window, then back to his parents. “He had an expensive boat—it's not like he couldn't afford to buy a camera. I don't understand why he took mine.”

“There's no telling with people,” Steven explained. “It's like with the shark: You think you can figure it out by just looking at the situation, and then—wham! You find things are not what they seem. That's the way life is. Sometimes you just don't know.” Maybe Steven wasn't intentionally directing that at Bridger, but it wouldn't have mattered anyway. Bridger's eyes were locked on his fork. He plucked one of the tines with his thumbnail as if he were picking a string on a guitar. Plink, plink, plink. If this had been a movie, Jack thought, the sound track would have started up right then with one of those gloomy cowboy songs.

What right did Bridger have to mope? It was Jack who'd lost his prized possession. He was so caught up in his own unhappiness that at first he didn't tune in to what Ashley was saying.

“…and he said he was fishing, but there wasn't any fishing pole in his boat, or any fish, or bait, 'cause I looked. And another thing I looked at—you know how boats have numbers painted on the side? Well, this one had FL and then a 10, and I don't remember the rest.”

Steven spread out his napkin on his lap. “Too bad you don't. But you couldn't be expected to remember. There'd be too many numbers and letters.”

“But I remember the name on the motor,” Ashley said. “Mercury. That's what it said. Mercury.”

“Thanks for trying to play detective, Ashley,” Jack told her, “but ‘Mercury' is on half the outboard motors around here. But hey—” He gave his sister a little punch. “You're
good!
”

Ashley accepted the compliment as if it were her due. “I noticed this, too,” she said. “That man said he was from Massachusetts, but he sounded more like the people around here.”

“What do you mean?” Olivia asked.

“Well, he said ‘y'all.' And ‘mosquiters' instead of ‘mosquitoes.'”

“That doesn't count for much,” Steven commented. “You can't tell where someone's from just by hearing a couple of words.”

“What else?” Jack asked, alert. “Tell me more.”

Encouraged, Ashley went on, “He had one of those really expensive watches. A Rollo-dex.”

“You mean Rolex,” Olivia said.

“Whatever. And something else—his beard was a different color than the hair on his arms.”

Now all of them were staring at her.

“I mean, his arm hairs were real blond—really, really blond—and his beard was kind of a dark brown. Well, he couldn't fake his arm hairs, could he? But he could have faked a beard.”

“Ashley….” Steven's tone was skeptical. “All this sounds pretty wild. Fake beards? Why would anyone—?”

“Cause with the hat and sunglasses and his beard, we couldn't really see his face. He didn't want us to.”

Steven just shook his head.

“Dad, how come you never believe me?” Ashley asked. “Jack does, but you don't.”

“I believe her, too,” Bridger said, low. “Well, maybe not the beard part, but everything else Ashley said is right. About us not seeing his face, and about him having money. I've seen lots of rich guys when the rodeo goes to Las Vegas. They wear watches like that. This guy had a big gold ring, too. And the sunglasses—that kind of sunglasses costs mucho bucks.”