The Lost Sister (Sister Series, #8) Page 9

  Tara smiled as she glanced at Ryder. His grin was visible in the overhead light of the truck. Headlights cut through the darkness out front. “He likes to fish.”

  “I can see that.” Tara chuckled as she got out and followed Wyatt around the back towards the boat. It was a metal boat with white striping. Ryder lifted Wyatt in first and then nodded at her, saying, “Go ahead and get in.”

  She used the handle to pull her body weight up and lifted a leg over the bow of the boat before landing on her feet. Walking through the open windshield, she used the step to duck into the body of the boat. Fishing poles stuck up from several different rod holders on a metal tower that ran across the middle of the boat. A canvas cover snapped onto the window, featuring sides and a back with a door. Wyatt was very busy since he obviously knew the drill. He clicked a small lever near the steering wheel and lights flipped on along the sides of the boat as well as the back. There was enough light to see when he lifted the bench seats and dug around the box beneath them before popping up with a camo-colored life jacket. He tossed her a red one. Without a qualm, he snapped his over his chest. “You can have my seat, Tara, since it’s your first time fishing. Have you ever been in a boat before?”

  She glanced up and Ryder leaned over the side, his forearms resting there as he continued listening to them. She shook her head. “No, I’ve never been on a boat before.”

  “Really? How’s that possible?” Wyatt’s eyes were huge.

  “It’s possible,” she said, smiling.

  Ryder pointed towards a box on the other side of the boat. “There’re some coats of mine inside there. Grab whichever one fits the best.”

  She leaned over to inspect the contents of the box and so did Wyatt. While rooting around, they found two warm coats on top and below those, some rain gear. Tara picked the same coat she wore the day when it rained. His game warden coat. She slung it over her shoulder and huddled inside the lining, letting her body heat warm it up. Despite the lifejacket, his huge coat managed to fit over it all. Tara sat in the passenger seat while Ryder jumped into the cab and shifted the truck back into gear. Wyatt sat in the driver’s seat on the boat. Puzzled, Tara watched Ryder deftly whip the truck and boat trailer around until he lined it up and slowly backed down a steep, concrete ramp. The boat bounced on the grooved concrete and Tara clung to the handle that was installed just below the glove box. Wyatt blissfully pretended to steer the boat back and forth. Water splashed up when the rear wheels hit the surface. Tara gulped as the boat lights reflected off the water. It looked so deep and swirling, and it totally surrounded them. The dock was on the driver’s side, but on hers? Just river water rushing past. They were in a back eddy and she gripped the door handle tightly. What now? Ryder stopped, then he walked back and unhooked the front of the boat from the trailer. He backed in the truck a little further. Then he came back again, sloshing right through the water before he pulled himself onto the bow of the boat. He was wearing waders when he came down the stairs, dripping water, and Wyatt scrambled to get out of his way. Water streamed on the floor from his boots. He glanced at her. “Doing okay?”

  “Um… not used to being near water in the dark.”

  “Can you swim?” His grin looked huge. She knew he was teasing her and she struggled to ignore the nerves that were coursing through her.

  “Only in a pool.”

  Laughing, Ryder plopped down in the chair and started the boat up. It ignited with a loud rumble that seemed to vibrate through her body. Glancing back, he gave the boat some throttle and pulled it off the trailer until they were gliding over the water in the darkness. He stood up and unsnapped the cover in order to see out, she assumed. Steering it gently back and close beside the dock, he aligned the bow. Then he left it idling as he jumped through the windshield, over the bow and onto the dock, where he tied it up. There they sat, idling in the dark water. Tara gulped down the huge knot of fear in her throat while Wyatt jabbered away. He played with the fishing lures while talking to himself. The truck disappeared when Ryder drove it off and parked it and finally, after several minutes, Ryder could be seen walking down the dock, only this time, without waders on. He untied the rope, jumped back in the boat and grabbed a lifejacket that was hanging on his seat, which he put on. Glancing over his shoulder, he idled the boat as he gradually moved backwards and then right out of the dark area.

  “You warm enough?” asked Ryder.

  “So far,” Tara said, staring around.

  He nodded. “Ready?”

  “I guess so…”

  Taking off, the boat’s prow parted the water as they skimmed rapidly over the surface and zoomed past the land and trees. A huge crane took off in the predawn light. Daylight was breaking far off on the horizon. Ryder pulled up into a lineup of a dozen or more boats. Tara blinked in surprise when he drove his boat right between two others, idling between them. Ryder kept the boat steady and straight when he jumped inside the bow, clanking around with the large, hooked anchor resting on the floor. He pulled the chain and then the rope and a large buoy attached to the system appeared. He gently dipped the anchor into the water, let it go and sat on the steps of the bow, still manning the steering wheel. As he idled backwards, Ryder gently fed the rope until the anchor eventually caught. They were parked right in line with six other boats. Not too close to bump each other, but closer than she could have probably parallel parked a car. He tugged on the line before clipping and tying off the rope somehow. Wyatt, meanwhile, was doing his chores on the boat. Tara was impressed by their obviously well-rehearsed routine.

  Ryder shut the windshield and buttoned up the top canvas. He turned the boat off and let the quiet reign supreme as they floated there. The current was strong, rushing past the boat and making periodic thunking sounds against the metal hull.

  Tara saw all kinds of movement when both father and son went to the back of the boat, beyond the canvas door. They began by pulling fishing poles down off the different storage spots and getting out pole holders, which they attached to the boat. There were some curved silver things with hooks attached to them, that Ryder called quick fish lures as he tied them to the lines. The lines were put into the water before Ryder finally walked towards her.

  “And now we wait.”

  Sleepiness made Tara’s eyelids heavy. That’s it? We got up super early just to stare out the back of the boat? It wasn’t that she didn’t like the boat. She enjoyed the boat ride and in the daylight, probably would have adored zipping up and down the river and catching all the sights. But in the dark? Not so much. Too scary. She kept picturing an errant log bumping into them and sinking their boat to the bottom of the river. Never mind all the scary, shark-like fish and snake-like eels lurking in the depths. Wyatt played with the bait that was in the back. The cold did not seem to affect him in the least. The breaking dawn brightened the sky as the drizzle retreated, leaving broken-up clouds and the day finally began.

  “Donuts?”

  She glanced over to see Ryder holding out a box of store-bought donuts. Cringing, she nevertheless took one and ate it. Ryder ate several and leaned back. How could he eat all the food that he did and not weigh as much as Gary at the café? Tara found plenty to watch with all the other boats around. The passengers on the ones without covers huddled together against the steady breeze that kept Tara shivering.

  “You cold?”

  She glanced up and nodded. Ryder got up and opened a small door that opened up to under the front of the boat. He brought some stuff out, then put more back in before sitting back and clicking something. A propane heater started up. Within minutes, the small area was snug and warm in the dry heat. Tara sighed, feeling much happier.

  “How were you able to… to park so close to the other boats?”

  “The hog lines here? This is nothing. You should see it on a Saturday morning. Since this is a Wednesday, there are just locals, retirees, and river guides. Had lots of practice doing it.”

  “Hog lines?”

  “Boats
lined up in a row to fish… Unless some idiot comes along and anchors up above or below us and messes with it. Makes it so we have to fight in order to fish around them or get caught up in their lines… If you wait long enough, some asshole will screw up the anchors… You wouldn’t believe some of the things I’ve witnessed here. And cited people for, I might add. Some of it isn’t even funny.”

  Barely a half hour later, Ryder leaned over and stared out at the water, starting to grumble. He got up and walked to the back of the boat. Wyatt was inside with Tara and kept up a nonstop monologue of all the fish he and his dad caught, how they caught them, and the bait they used. Tara listened intently at first, but eventually her head lost interest in his narrative. Wow, could he talk a lot.

  “Damn idiot,” Ryder was outside, muttering to himself. Tara emerged from the little cocoon. He pointed out towards a boat that was running across the hog line above them. “Instead of just pulling it out by hand, like he should in such a crowded spot, he’s trying to pull it up by running out, but he’s running right over ours. If he doesn’t catch ours, or that black boat’s, I’ll be shocked.” Then, to her surprise, he cupped his hands over his mouth and started yelling loudly. “Watch out! Hey!” He waved his arms before releasing a long groan. The boat didn’t pay any attention to him. Turning, he sighed. “Start reeling up, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt jumped into action and started reeling in all the poles. Tara took the hint and followed suit, placing the long black pole against the engine doghouse. Just then, as Ryder predicted, they were being dragged. Ryder swore loudly before running up to the bow and freeing them from the anchor. Starting the boat up, he idled away from the other boats around them. The boat driven by the idiots got tangled up in Ryder’s anchor rope so they tried pulling it up. Their boat rocked back and forth as they kept moving ahead, and they all seemed to panic.

  “Christ, they’re going to get caught in their own anchor rope. That’s how boats go under.” Ryder kept muttering under his breath as he drove clear of the entire mess. Pulling over towards them, he cut the engine, yelling out to the troublemakers and their now endangered boat, “Cut your rope! Cut your anchor rope!”

  Inextricably, the bumbling three stooges on board and their swirling boat were not only tangled up in Ryder’s anchor rope but now heading into the hog line again. The two boats that were beside Ryder’s also unhooked themselves from the hog line and idled off into the current. It was breathtaking. “If I were working right now, I’d arrest these idiots. Just look at them. They’re going to kill themselves,” Ryder said.

  “Can they capsize?”

  “All it takes is for them to get their rope caught around their own engine.” Finally, the inept boaters cut their anchor, losing it into the depths of the river. Once that was done, they zoomed out of there, taking off at full throttle and leaving a wake that bobbed and swirled the rest of the boats left behind. For the next hour, all the boats, including Ryder’s, were buzzing around the area, grabbing anchor ropes and setting everyone back up. Ryder had to hand-pull his anchor, idle up to the line, and reset it. Finally, they reset all the poles in the holders and returned to fishing. But the whole thing was exciting to Tara. She learned about all the different boats that had capsized over the years around there, which were usually caused by the errors of fishermen.

  After another two hours of conversation, with plenty of interjections from Wyatt, who was obviously privy to the familiar stories and loved sharing them with a new audience, they were suddenly interrupted. The fishing pole was making a zinging sound as the fish line spun off the reel. The rod was bent like a rainbow with the tip buried towards the water. “Fish on!” Wyatt exclaimed, drawing plenty of gazes from the other fishermen around them. Ryder hastily ran back to the pole and pulled on it as Wyatt yelled, “Set the hook. Set the hook.”

  Ryder smiled, doing whatever set the hook meant, and pulling the line back. “Big one. Come here, Tara.”

  “Me?” She stood off to the side, big-eyed and incredulous. Ryder was grinning. He looked so happy, it surprised her. How could this bring such excitement to a grown man’s face? Without comprehending the appeal for such a hobby, she walked over and stood next to Ryder.

  “Take the pole and hold on tight, it’s a big one.”

  He kept his arms around her as she spun towards the back of the boat. They were pointed downriver and she lifted her hands to clasp the corkscrewed grip of the pole. He kept his hands on it, around hers. “Got a good hold?” he asked. His voice was right on the side of her face and his breath felt warm on her cheek. She nodded, bracing her arms and planting her feet. He let go but stayed right there for a moment. He didn’t seem too confident she really had it. Eventually, he stepped back. “Pull up when you can, and then reel down towards the water, as far down as you can. Keep doing that over and over. Try to keep the line tight. Give it any slack and it could get off.”

  “It’s a hog!” Wyatt screamed when the fish broke the surface. It did a quick but spectacular jump and came down with a splash. Voices of the other fishermen oohed and aahed around them and Tara sensed a whole bunch of men’s eyes on her. There wasn’t another woman fishing in the whole line, at least none that she could see.

  “Is it? A—a hog?” she asked Ryder, unsure of the lingo around there. Seemed a whole new thing. Ryder was smiling and staring back at the line with his hands on his hips.

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “I—I don’t think I should be doing this. You take it. I’ll lose it… I’ll ruin it. Take it.” Her voice rose with audible distress.

  Ryder’s smile faded as his gaze returned to her and he shook his head. “There’s no fun in that. You’re the newbie, bring it on in, Tara.”

  “I can’t. You’ll get mad.” She tried pulling up, but it barely moved. It was heavier and much harder than she had imagined.

  “Not if you bring it in,” he said, grinning and winking at her. He was visibly enjoying himself.

  She tried pulling up again. “I can’t get it.”

  “It had some strong runs, it’ll get tired. You’ll win. Stick with it, Tara.”

  She kept trying to pull up and reel down. Finally, gnashing her teeth, she nearly screeched with frustration, “Take it! I can’t do this.”

  He watched her eyebrows shoot up in surprise with her passionate denial and annoyed voice. He stepped up right behind her, circling his arms around her again as he helped to steady the pole. Then he raised it up high and held on tight, saying into her ear, “Now, reel. There. That’s it. You were doing it right all along.”

  She was caught off guard by his close proximity. The heat it unleashed in her made her cheeks flush as her stomach knotted. However, the fish tugged on the line again and that swiftly refocused her attention. She held on tight and reeled it in as he coached her. He smiled. “There. See? You can do it. It’s tired and should come right in now.”

  He stayed close and kept encouraging her. Then she saw a shadow in the water, coming closer to the boat. Ryder pulled out a net that he stored on the side of the boat. He held it straight up. Only then did she glance around and realize they had floated further downriver. When or how did he unhook them from the anchor? The small motor at the back was running and zipping back and forth but no one was steering it. What the hell?

  “How is that thing steering us?” Tara asked, nodding towards it and momentarily distracted.

  “Auto-pilot.” Ryder held up a controller. He controlled it by remote? She had no idea.

  Tara thought she won the struggle but the fish suddenly turned and darted away. Ryder and Wyatt were yelling at her, telling her to switch sides of the boat. Ryder helped her hold onto the pole as she moved over the doghouse and kept it clear of the engines out at the back. There was whooping and hollering from Wyatt and even Ryder. She repeated that move again, going back until Ryder shouted at her, “Get up on the doghouse!”

  She hardly knew what that meant in this context, only from hearing him and Wyatt refer to it earlier. Reacting to
his commanding tone, she jumped on the cover over the loud engine and pulled up hard as the fish finally broke the surface. Ryder leaned over the side and scooped it up with his net. Her entire body wilted as Wyatt giggled with glee.

  “Is it wild? Is it wild?” Wyatt chanted, leaning over to stare in the net that was still in the water. “Ah, it’s so big, it’s probably wild.”

  “What does that mean? Bring it in!” She was shocked at all the excitement she heard in her voice, not just Wyatt’s. From her perch, she frowned as she watched Ryder trying to grab the squirming fish and Ryder glanced up at her.

  “Have to make sure this back fin here is clipped. That indicates it’s a hatchery fish. Not allowed to keep wilds this year.”

  “Is it?” Tara had never expected having to do all that for nothing. But Ryder lifted it into the boat and Wyatt let out another whoop! that instantly drew the attention of the other boaters. They’d been weaving in and out of the hog line on their mission to land the fish. Several hand waves, fist bumps and loud whoops! were addressed towards them. It felt kind of cool, Tara realized as she stood up, feeling like the queen of the boat. She jumped down and stared at the fish, which was huge. A monster. A hog, as Wyatt had called it.

  Blood trickled from its mouth and Ryder leaned over it, using pliers to pull the hook out. After twisting back and forth, he managed to tug it loose. Then he grabbed a baton-like object that was hooked on the doghouse and smacked it over the fish’s head. Tara scowled and gasped before looking away. Gross! But in no time at all, she was looking at it again.

  Ryder laughed at her squeamish scowl. “More humane to kill it.” Lifting it by the tail out of the net, he called to Wyatt, who began maneuvering the net out of the way. “Grab the scale, Wyatt.”

  Wyatt came back and handed the device to Ryder. Ryder hooked it into the salmon’s mouth and then let it go, his muscles straining as he hoisted it up for several seconds before putting it down. “Damn, woman. Way to show us all up.”