THE FLOOD…PART 5:
SWEPT ALONG
For a while Cort wasn't sure if Joimus had survived the removal of the
rock and the time in the stream, but after a few moments she stirred in Maximus'
arms and the General pressed her to his chest, burying his face in her wet hair.
Opening her eyes, she gazed up at him, not realizing what had just happened,
seeing only the tears on his cheeks. She wanted to touch the tears but didn't
seem to have the strength to raise her arm.
"Love...love you," she managed to murmur. She had no idea how she'd gotten into
his arms, only that she was and that the fighting to live was over, the dying
had not come.
Maximus could barely speak, hoarsely whispering endearments into her hair,
kissing her face. Finally he was able to ask, "Are you injured, my darling?"
"I...I think maybe...my ribs." There was a definite pain in her right side. She
saw his jaw tighten and added, "Not...not bad. Just tired."
Indeed, she was so worn it was difficult to remain awake despite the fact that
her legs were still in the cool water rushing past where he sat. Maximus turned
his head, looking up the steep, muddy bank behind him. His eyes then found
Cort's. "We have to get her up
that," he said with a heavy sigh. He was already past the end of his own
strength, operating now on will power alone.
The bank here was not quite so high, maybe only eight feet, but completely
saturated with water. A few rocks and one or two fairly large roots jutted out
here and there. Cort studied it carefully. "Let me go first," he suggested, "and
then you can hand her up to me."
He put his boot on a small, low rock, intending on using it as his first
stepping stone, but as soon as his weight went on it, it came loose from the
soil, sending him stumbling back, almost falling into the stream. Gritting his
teeth, he tried again a few feet further upstream, and practically clawing his
way, slipping and sliding, he made it to the top, rolling over the edge. He lay
there a moment, gasping, completely used up by the events of the last day atop
this sudden burst of extreme effort. Then he turned onto his knees and scrabbled
down until he was directly above where Maximus sat. "I'm here," he called down,
lying on his belly, stretching his arms toward them.
It took Maximus a while to get to his feet with her in his arms. He tried to
find a firmer place to stand, but there simply wasn't such a thing. The rising
stream had eaten away the base of the bank and there were only slippery rocks
and a tiny bit of mud on which he
could put his boots. Looking at her face, he whispered, "I am going to have to
lift you up, my darling, and I fear it may strain your ribs."
She smiled weakly. "It must be done."
A sharp sound burst from him. "After all these years you are becoming quite a
stoic."
"Some things are...necessary," she replied.
He was holding her at his chest and began to lift her higher. His left boot
slipped and in saving them from a fall into the stream, he jerked both of their
bodies sharply. Gasping in pain, he squeezed his eyes shut a second, opening
them to find she'd passed out. Clamping his jaw, his arms trembling with
fatigue, he lifted her as high as he could toward Cort's straining arms. Cort
managed to get a grip on her at last and with Maximus pushing from below, pulled
her up beside him.
Maximus needed to sit down again but the little place he'd sat while holding her
had crumbled into the water and he was left with nothing to do but stand
thigh-deep in it, leaning his back against the bank, his chin resting on his
chest. After a couple of minutes, he sucked in several deep breaths. Now he,
too, had to make it up the bank. He turned, looking up at Cort's concerned face
staring back.
"Do you think...," Cort began.
"It must be done," he said. He struggled up about four feet, then the ground
gave way and he fell backwards into the stream. Unable to gain his feet
immediately he was swept sideways along in the furious current. With a
shuddering jar his left hip impacted an uprooted tree and he grasped at it,
leaning over it finally, not able to move for a time as the waters swirled
around him. He felt his fingers sliding, losing their grip on the wet bark, and
he gritted his teeth, determined he would not be swept further from Joimus.
A large branch banged against his lower back, held there a second by the
current, then dragged away, curving around the top of the fallen tree.
Cort had run along the top of the bank and where Maximus was now, some fifty
feet further downstream, there was a dip in the height of it, taking it down a
mere two feet above the water. He slid down it on his boot heels, wading out to
where Maximus was and grabbing him under his arms, not at all sure he had the
strength to help the General from his position. Maximus, though, shoved himself
up, then steadied by Cort made it to the bank where the two of them fell over
together, sprawling in the mud.
It took about five minutes before either of them could move, then supporting one
another, they staggered the fifty feet back to where Joimus lay on her back in
the muddied grass. Maximus fell to his knees beside her, touching her face,
assuring himself that she still lived. Lifting his head, he whistled, and Legion
immediately moved toward him, followed by Buttermilk and Cort's horse, when Cort,
too, whistled. Neither man needed to say it. They had to get her back to the
house and that meant getting her up on Legion so Maximus could hold her. Talking
at this point took too much effort. Cort led Legion close to Maximus, who stood,
resting his forearms across the saddle a moment, his head down, gathering
himself to mount. He slid his left boot in the stirrup and when his weight went
on that leg, it began to tremble, but nothing was going to keep him from getting
up on his horse.
When he had his seat, Cort lifted Joimus up so Maximus could take her in his
arms. Cort stood there a moment, his hand against Maximus' side as the General
swayed, blinked, then shook his head. Going then to his own horse, Cort heaved
himself into the saddle, gathered up Buttermilk's reins, and the bedraggled
little procession headed carefully down the ridge toward the path that led
through the wheat.
Joimus roused somewhere halfway through the second terrace, finding herself in
his arms again. "Where...?"
"Home," he said, bending to kiss her face.
She sighed, leaning her cheek against his wet shirt, closing her eyes, letting
herself drift off because he had her and she was safe.
The fields were sodden, huge puddles of water lying everywhere. Much of the
wheat would be lost he knew, but didn't really care. She was in his arms and he
had not lost her. Anything else could be replaced. As they descended to the
third terrace, he vaguely
noticed that a section of the jury-rigged dam had given way and when they
skirted the edge of the main pasture below, about two-thirds of it was
underwater. The stables, though, were high enough that the pond had not reached
them, but the ground all around
was so saturated from the rain that their horses' hooves sank deeply into it.
He reined Legion just outside the stables, aware that East, Paul, and Mac had
all come to its entrance and were staring at him. He had no idea, really, of the
picture he presented, entirely wet, covered with mud, his shoulders curved with
fatigue, his head hanging
down as though it were too heavy for his neck, his wife lying limply in his
arms.
"East," he croaked, having to clear his throat before he could add, "I am going
to ride Legion up closer to the gate by the house. Will you follow me and take
the horses back to the stables?" He turned the horse's head and rode
slowly up the hill, swaying once in the saddle.
…continued
